Bound by Blood and Sand (17 page)

Elan didn't want to watch, but he couldn't close his eyes to the sight, either. Tal stood in the corner, the hank of his hair in his bloody hand, the knife in his other. The blade gleamed, wisps of hair sticking to it. It was nothing, Tal was barely hurt, his hair shouldn't matter. But his free will…

Elan was sick to his stomach. He knew Jae had been violated by Rannith, but that had been almost too much to think about. What Rannith had done was its own kind of evil, something Elan had thought was separate. It had happened because Rannith had been wrong in the head, not because Jae was a Closest. But
this
—the look of terror on Tal's face, the silent plea in his eyes that he could never speak out loud, and the crushing, heavy knowledge that he was helpless. His death would be nothing to Elthis, but Tal himself wouldn't be able to beg for his life, to say goodbye to Jae, to fight back. It was—it was horrific.

It was all the more so because Elan had never seen his father like this before. He'd never seen his father caught off guard, never seen his father let slip any hint of emotion he didn't want the world to know about. His rage at Jae's accusations was beyond anger at any insult. It had lasted only a heartbeat, but Elan had never seen his father look so murderous.

And his father had lied about the earthquake. If Elan hadn't seen the truth with his own eyes, he'd have believed everything his father had said. He understood why his father had done it—keeping order was vital—but it had seemed to come to his father so easily. He'd been so convincing. Jae had said the Highest were all liars, and his father
was
. For the greater good, yes, but…

Cursing the Closest had been for the greater good, too, and Jae believed the Highest had lied about that. And the War, and the Well, and everything else. For just a moment, with his father losing control and lying so easily, Elan thought maybe she was right.

But that was impossible.

“See that you don't forget,” Elthis snarled at Jae, and Elan forced himself to push those impossible thoughts aside as much as he could.

He swallowed, his throat as dry as the air outside, despite the mug of water he'd just downed. Still, he forced himself to try to ease the tension in the room. “Father, that wasn't…that won't be…it won't be necessary.”

His father fixed a knife-edge glare on him. “Saving the peace is necessary. No Closest's life is worth more than that. And you
will not
question me.”

Elan's protest died in his throat. He didn't know what else he'd have said, anyway. Jae knew a secret that his father wanted kept. She was a threat—to Elthis, to all of the Highest, to the order and peace they protected. Neither her life nor Tal's meant anything to Elthis, compared to that.

“You said you will use the Well to save Aredann—and that means you think you can control the Well,” Elthis said to Jae. “And I know my son was planning to use your magic to find it in the desert. Can you do that?”

Jae nodded, not looking up or meeting his gaze.

“Good. Then you will. Accompanied by Elan and several of my guards,” Elthis continued. He glanced at Elan, who didn't meet his gaze, either. Yes, he'd wanted Jae to help him find the Well. But not like this.

“Aredann must still be abandoned—too much has happened here. I will return to Danardae with your brother.” He turned his attention back to Jae. “And I'll expect you all to return with the Well's location, and a way to control it, within six months. If you don't come back, your brother's life is forfeit. Do you understand?”

Jae nodded stiltedly, her jaw trembling. But across the table, Shirrad gasped.

It took Elan a moment, and then he understood what his father had said, too. Jae was to return with a way to control the Well—which meant Elthis
didn't
have that. And if he had no control over the Well, then…then Jae
had
been telling the truth all along.

The Well, the War, the Curse. Everything Elan knew about them, all of it, was a lie. His father commanded such loyalty and fear that he wasn't afraid of this group knowing. There was no way any of them would speak up, speak out. Tal couldn't, Desinn and Shirrad would never even think to, and Elan had already learned his lesson once. If he dared question his father ever again, he'd be disavowed. Given the secret he now knew, he might even be killed.

Elan swallowed, sick to his stomach. He said, “Then that's…that's settled, and it's enough for tonight.”

Not that it would matter what Elan said, unless his father agreed. Jae didn't bother moving until Elthis said, “Indeed. You two may go”—he waved his hand at Jae and Shirrad—“wherever. And you”—to Tal—“will stay with Lord Desinn until you are told otherwise. And that knife—you'll keep it with you. Just in case.”

Tal nodded too, but since Desinn made no move to leave, he couldn't, either. Lady Shirrad's eyes were damp, and she strode out quickly. Jae gave Tal one last look before she fled, and it made Elan ache. He had hoped his father would triumph, bring Jae back under his control somehow, yes, but he'd thought his father and Jae would come to some kind of agreement—that Elan could help them do it.

His father was right. He
was
a fool. Elthis would never, never agree to anything less than total command and control, and Elan hadn't wanted to admit that, because he hadn't wanted to think of what it would do to Jae. Even before she'd freed herself, she'd always been so angry, defiant, but now she looked weak and scared.

It shouldn't have mattered to Elan at all. None of it should have. But Jae had been fighting for a reason, she'd been
right,
and he couldn't stand the sight of her looking so hopeless.

Elan wasn't sure he'd ever be able to look his father in the eye again, now that he knew the truth. And Aredann…Aredann would still be abandoned, even though Jae had the power to save it. Dozens of Closest would be left to die, just to keep a secret.

Elan found his voice again, against his better judgment. “If you think Jae can control the Well, why not allow her to save Aredann's Closest?”

His father's shoulders went stiff, his back straight. He glanced at Desinn. “I'd like to speak with my son in private.”

“Yes, of course, Highest.” Desinn hurried toward the door, and Tal followed him, stiff and awkward, as if he were pulled along by an invisible cord. Elthis shut the door firmly after them and turned back to Elan.

“It is not your place to question me,” he repeated, voice low and angry. “You've taken vows of loyalty to me, and you are my
son.
I will not allow you to undermine me.”

Vows. Elan could only nod dumbly. He'd made vows, and he'd meant them. As his father's warden—grand warden, because he was from one of the Highest families—Elan held a position of honor and power. That had always meant everything to him. He searched his father's face for a modicum of mercy or understanding, empathy for the people he'd consigned to death, for Elan for trying to help them. Maybe his father had always been a liar, but it wasn't as if he'd started all this. Elthis knew the Closest weren't the traitors everyone believed them to be.

But his father said, “I told the Avowed that the Well's magic will cause more destruction at Aredann, and I won't have that questioned. If the girl really can do everything she claims—
you
claim—then at least this will be the last estate to be abandoned.”

“But…” Elan trailed off. Nothing he could say would change his father's mind, and he was skirting close to disloyalty. “I'm sorry. It's just—it's all so messy. And Tal has never done anything wrong at all.”

“Only because he's never had the chance. He's a Closest, with traitors' blood. Do not be squeamish when it comes to your vows—or your duty. I will not have a warden who won't do his job.”

“Yes, sir.” As a warden, he'd sworn to uphold his father's will, which in turn protected the world. Nothing else was supposed to matter. Not even the truth. And it was better that the unrest end here and now, with his father controlling Jae and the Well both, for the good of everyone.

Everyone except the Closest, because they were schemers and liars. Traitors, just like their ancestors had been.

Just like
his
ancestors had been.

He hung his head, not able to look at his father anymore, bowed over by the weight of history and lies and vows.

Elthis, his stewards, Lady Shirrad and her Avowed advisors, and Elan all met in the larger study midmorning the next day to discuss preparations for the trek to the Well and for Aredann's abandonment. Elan sat near his father at the head of the table. One of the stewards was taking careful notes, listing everything they'd need for the trip into the desert, as all Shirrad's advisors offered their expertise. Shirrad herself sat at the other end of the table, nearly silent, her painted lips pulled down at the corners.

She knew the truth, too. And she must have realized what Elan had, that Jae could save Aredann—her home. But instead Lady Shirrad would be forced to leave it behind, sent away to live on someone else's estate. At Aredann, she was the most important Avowed, its guardian, the highest authority outside of Elthis and Elan himself. Soon she'd be just another member of someone's court, holding no particular power or respect, too young to be taken seriously but old enough to be seen as a failure.

Desinn was at Elthis's other side, which meant Tal sat shadowed in a corner, still, silent, and alone. His hair was wild around his face, too short for him to bind anymore, and when Elan glanced at him, he wondered if that was what Jae would look like if she allowed her hair to grow out. Their features were similar enough, after all, with high cheekbones and sharp noses, and now that Tal was no longer smiling, the resemblance was even more obvious.

Jae herself wasn't there. She hadn't left the master room since the previous night, and though she'd let that other Closest girl in with food and clean clothes, no one else had checked on her. Elan knew he should, but he couldn't stand the thought of how she'd look at him, knowing he knew the truth but wouldn't do anything about it.

Elan shivered, something cold building in his core as he thought about leaving Aredann to turn to dust. Not just for the sake of the Closest who'd die, but because if there was any proof of the truth, it had to be here. If there were any more mysteries in the estate's mosaics and garden, no one would ever discover them. If there was any more magic…

Jae's magic and her history were all tied up together, and tied to this place. Jae and her magic, Aredann and the Well, were all a tangled rope that was now starting to fray, one his father would never allow to come undone. It was the rope that tied their world together.

As the afternoon hour grew later, Elthis finally seemed satisfied with their plans, and dismissed most of the observers to go on with their evening. He motioned to Desinn as he stood. “I'll be in the private study, preparing letters to send to the other Highest. Elan, you will keep an eye on…” He nodded sideways at Tal's corner. “And do not flinch from your duty.”

“Yes, Father,” Elan agreed, still not able to look directly at Elthis as he spoke.

Elthis and Desinn strode out, which left Elan alone with Shirrad and Tal. She stood and wiped her face. When she dropped her hand, a black smear covered her cheek, and her eyes were rimmed with red.

“Lady,” Elan murmured. “I'm so sorry about Aredann. About—everything.”

She took an audible breath. “I'm grateful for your father's kindness and his wisdom.”

He met her gaze. She was even more helpless than he was. “I know,” Elan said. “But I'm still sorry. You worked hard to keep Aredann alive for so long, and I…I can't imagine losing my home, or…”

She started to answer, but pressed her hand to her mouth instead as fat tears began to fall. She sank back onto her cushion, turning away from him, her breath coming in gasps and pants. “I'll lose everything,” she finally managed. “Everything.”