“A mistake? Your crazy assassin slit his throat. That’s a mistake?”
“Absolutely. A terrible mistake. Had I realized who you were, I’d have left him alive in our dungeons as insurance on your good behavior. He would have been useful. I even tried to persuade the priests of Thaena to Return him, but he must have been running on the last sands in his hourglass: they said it was his time.”
“What about the girl?” Kihrin asked.
Darzin looked bemused. “The girl?”
“You said the priests of Thaena wouldn’t Return him because it was his time, but what about the girl killed with him? Did they say it was her time too?”
“Yes, I’m afraid so.” Darzin’s voice was smooth.
Kihrin knew he was lying. Darzin hadn’t cared what happened to a dead slave girl. He hadn’t asked for her Return. He hadn’t bothered to even check.
While Kihrin fumed, Darzin helped himself to a cup of coffee, added coconut milk, and stirred. “A pity about both. I find I have many questions, just as I will have many questions for Ola Nathera when we track her down.”
“But—” Kihrin looked around. He realized none of the servants were within hearing. “Your assassin said she was going to kill her.”
Darzin shook his head. “I’m afraid all the commotion over you probably alerted Ola to what had happened. She’s fled.” Darzin smiled. “Just as well, as some of my servants can be overzealous, and I want answers. I want to know how Surdyeh fits into all this and who was paying him. Someone must have been. I think I know Ola’s involvement well enough: she was one of my father’s favorite slaves for years, and she was very close to your mother before Ola bought her own freedom. I can well imagine that when Lily ran away with you, Ola would have been the first person she would have gone to for shelter. Foolishly, it seems.”
“Lily?”
“Hmm, yes. Lily. Your mother, Lyrilyn. She was quite a woman. I loved her very much.”
All the air froze in Kihrin’s lungs. He blinked and shook his head. “No. Absolutely not. No fucking way. Not you! Anyone but you.”
“Watch your language, son.”
“You’re not my father.”
“On the contrary,” Darzin said, “I very much am your father. I don’t take your reaction personally, you know. I don’t really like my father either, and I understand Therin’s hatred for his father could only be described as epic. Why, your enmity is practically upholding a family tradition.”
“This is insane!”
“It all must be a bit of a shock, I admit. You should sit down and eat something. Aren’t you hungry?”
Kihrin glared at him. As he did, a wave of weakness washed over him, and he realized despite Lorgrin’s healing and whatever else they’d done to him while he was unconscious, he possessed a ravenous hunger. He looked at the food on the table for the first time. Marinated steak, first of all. Then cherry tomatoes in a broth of herbs and spices, and a flaky pastry containing bits of meat and white cheese. Sag flatbread smeared with a thick paste he didn’t recognize. He stared at the food and tried to ignore the way his mouth watered.
“Go on,” Darzin urged. “Eat.” He sighed, exasperated. “If I wanted you dead, I had five days while you were recovering to do the deed. Here.” Darzin tore off some sag and ate a little of each dish with a showy wave of his hand. He drank a gulp of water from each crystal goblet and washed it all down with the coffee. “There. If it’s poisoned, we both die. Eat.”
Kihrin sat and ate quickly, without manners. It all tasted wonderful. Kihrin watched Darzin while he ate, as if the noble were a snake who might bite if the young man turned away from him for even a second.
When Kihrin couldn’t eat any more, he shoved the tray away and leaned forward in his chair, his arms resting on the table, his finger brushing up against a sharp steak knife. Kihrin glared at Darzin a little more.
“Let me tell you a story, Kihrin,” the Heir of House D’Mon began.
The young man scowled.
Darzin stared at Kihrin, then sighed. When he realized the young man’s expression wasn’t going to soften, Darzin continued anyway. “When I was little more than a boy, I fell in love with one of my great-uncle Pedron’s slaves, Lyrilyn. She was extraordinarily beautiful. Dallying with the slaves is far from forbidden, but she wasn’t my slave. I took it too far. It was a time of great chaos. I didn’t think anyone would notice or care—after all, it’s not like my father was in any danger of inheriting. But Therin inconveniently managed to do exactly that and became High Lord, and suddenly I was Lord Heir. My father decided Lyrilyn was an embarrassment. The easiest way to deal with the embarrassment was to eliminate its source. Lyrilyn, being a little sharper than I in such matters, realized her life was in danger.”
Darzin paused while he refreshed his coffee, added more coconut milk.
“What happened?” Kihrin finally asked, not able to override the sinking feeling in his stomach.
“She ran away,” Darzin explained. “Only afterward did she realize she was pregnant. Lyrilyn sent word to me, but by the time I reached her it was too late. She was strangled in Arena Park during the ascension of Emperor Sandus. The baby was never found. That was fifteen years ago. You’re fifteen years old, aren’t you?”
“There’s no way—”
“Kihrin,” Darzin said, “I believed Lyrilyn had lost her baby. But she had a token of my love, a particular kind of vané necklace. This one was prized because it’s in our House colors: a blue stone wrapped in gold. I wasn’t sure when we met at Qoran’s house. It was possible that you were a velvet boy who had paid the Temple of Caless to change the color of your eyes. However, when I found you at that brothel and saw the necklace, I knew you were Lyrilyn’s missing son. My missing son.”
“Why didn’t you just take the damn stone? Why didn’t you just take it and kill me?”
“The necklace is but a symbol of my love, boy. You are my son. You are the one who matters to me.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“I think a part of you does, Kihrin. Why didn’t you tell General Milligreest I was the one who summoned Xaltorath?”
Kihrin stared at him, the blood draining from his face. He knew.
Darzin smiled at his son. “Oh yes, I’m quite aware that you’re the one who burgled the house of a certain merchant down in the Copper Quarter, and therefore know I summoned that demon. By the way, who told you that house would be empty?”
Kihrin swallowed bile. “Butterbelly. I don’t know who told him. He wouldn’t say.”
“Hmm.” Darzin frowned. “This little adventure has been full of sloppy mistakes, hasn’t it? Pity someone killed him too quickly.”
“You’re the one who killed him—”
“Seems like quite the coincidence, don’t you think? That you’d be given a lead on the same house that we were using for our little question-and-answer session?”
Kihrin couldn’t stop himself from snorting.
Darzin grinned. “My thoughts exactly. Someone set us up, you and I. I wonder if it was an enemy or a friend?”