I only looked up when I heard Tyentso speak. “I’ve made up my mind. I’d like to join the Brotherhood.”
Khaemezra regarded her. “You were unsure just a short while ago.”
“Ah, but someone really needs to teach Scamp here some magic. If nothing else, some fireproofing spells wouldn’t go amiss. Something tells me he’s going to need them.”
I leaned forward. “Wait, magic? You’re going to teach me magic?”
“Someone damn well better,” Tyentso said. “If Mother will let me.” Tyentso raised an eyebrow. “Will you?”
Khaemezra scoffed, although the sound managed to be more affectionate than dismissive. “Yes, I believe I will.”
“I’m trapped here,” I whispered.
“For now,” Khaemezra agreed. “If I have learned one lesson in all my years, it is that no situation lasts forever. In the meantime, what do you want to do?”
“I want to leave,” I said, my voice rising.
“I know you do, but problems are opportunities with thorns attached,” she explained again. “Let’s use your stay here to better prepare you to tackle those problems successfully. What do you want?”
I had a hard time thinking past the “I’m trapped here” part of our conversation. All I could think about were the invisible bars to my island cage, my jailer a giant fire-breathing dragon. Taja had said I could leave, but she hadn’t mentioned the cost. I was trapped.
Tyentso put a hand on my shoulder and squeezed. “Perhaps you’d like to send a message to your family?”
I blinked and focused on the two women. “Can you? Can you tell Lady Miya I’m alive?”
“Yes. Anything else?”
I breathed deep, still trying to calm down. “Do you have anyone on the island who’s good with swords? I was learning swordplay, and I’d like to continue.”
“A sword isn’t much use against a dragon,” Khaemezra pointed out, although I was alert enough by that point to notice she hadn’t refused.
“I know that. The sword is for killing Darzin.”
Khaemezra smiled. “Then I believe I know just the man.”
34: PROMISES
(Talon’s story)
The door handle jiggled.
“Go away!” Kihrin shouted at the door.
The door opened an inch before it caught on the chair Kihrin had wedged under the handle.
Lady Miya said, “Please, Kihrin. This is unseemly and does not serve your cause. Why are you hiding in your room?”
“I don’t want to see any of you!” he shouted back. Kihrin lay on his rumpled bed, which was in the same state as his clothes. He hadn’t changed, or done much in the way of hygiene, since Miya had shown him these rooms.
He’d been impressed at first. Rather than the room where he’d originally woken, Lady Miya had taken him to the family’s private wing—the Hall of Princes where the High Lord, his sons, and direct heirs kept their quarters. Kihrin’s new suite of rooms was a palace in and of itself, an amazing confection of jeweled walls and plants that made the place resemble a garden as much as a living area. The centerpiece was a lavish bed crafted from the interlaced boughs of four living trees.
Then Kihrin saw the trap.
The ornate lattices covering the balcony openings were gilt-covered iron. The flowering vines hid nasty thorns. The main door locked from the outside as did the side door connecting his suite to whoever lived next door.
Whoever had used these rooms before him had also been a prisoner.
That’s when the enormity of Kihrin’s situation rolled down on him. Darzin could do anything. Darzin could kill him, maim him, sell him as a slave; all of it would be legal. Parents had absolute power over their children. Legally, Kihrin was Darzin’s child. Surdyeh couldn’t do anything about it because Surdyeh was dead. Ola? Ola was probably dead too.
He couldn’t close his eyes without seeing Morea’s slashed throat, without hearing the sound of a demon’s laughter. He couldn’t sleep for the nightmares.
A taste of pain to prepare him for the feast of suffering.
Kihrin had jury-rigged a chair barricade and lain back on his bed to sulk. He had been there, still sulking, for several days.
* * *
Yes, you were sulking. Don’t interrupt, Kihrin.
* * *
As I was saying, when Lady Miya asked Kihrin to open the door for her, he refused, yelled at her, and assumed she would go away.
A scraping noise made him look up. The chair unhooked itself from under the door handle and slid to the side, all without being touched. That same door then swung open, revealing Lady Miya, arms crossed over her chest, eyes full of fury. Kihrin sat up in bed, startled.
“I should have realized when you healed me,” Kihrin said. “You’re a witch, aren’t you?”
Lady Miya walked into the room and the door slammed shut behind her, again, without her touching it. “Do you know what a witch is?”
Kihrin ground his teeth. “Of course I do. A witch is someone who isn’t licensed by one of the precious Royal Houses.”
“And do you think I am not licensed by one of the Royal Houses?”
Kihrin’s gaze hardened into something icy and unfriendly. He shrugged and laid his head back against a tree trunk, crossing an ankle over a knee. “I guess that makes you the one who taught him how to summon demons?”
Lady Miya paused. “Excuse me? Taught who?”
“Darzin.” Then Kihrin sniggered. “Humph. Darzin D’Mon dabbles with dastardly demons. There’s a dirty ditty in there somewhere.”
The vané crossed over to him, her step angry. Miya frowned as she took in the dirty linens, the unchanged clothes. Kihrin hadn’t even bothered to replace the shirt that Darzin had ripped open to whip him over breakfast several days before.
“Why do you believe he summoned a demon?”
He tilted his head and stared at her. “Because I saw him do it. Well, okay, I didn’t see him do it, but I’m sure he did. He admitted as much. I wouldn’t be here if I hadn’t broken into the place where he’d summoned it.” Kihrin massaged his temples. “Taja! If I’d just gone away. It wasn’t any of my business anyway, and now…” He shook his head. “They’re dead. I can’t believe they’re dead.”
Kihrin slid out of bed, angry and fast, launching himself away from her. “What do you care anyway? You don’t know me and you don’t give a damn about me. I’m just another D’Mon and you don’t serve this family by choice. Did my ‘father’ tell you to look in on me? My ‘grandfather’?”
“No,” she said, her voice quiet. “Lyrilyn was my handmaiden.”
Startled, Kihrin turned back.
“Not originally,” Miya clarified. “Lyrilyn was one of the harem slaves of High Lord Pedron, a maniac who nearly destroyed this House. After Therin killed Pedron and became the new High Lord, he allowed me to pick whoever I wished to be my assistant. I chose Lyrilyn.”
His throat felt like it was closing in on itself, but he choked out a question. “You knew my mother?”