The Dragonprince's Heir (34 page)

She gave a tight shake of her head. "He's a prisoner in the Halls of Justice. With...some elf."

When I remembered how Laelia had kept my father prisoner, something like shame burned in my face. I saw color in Mother's pale cheeks, too, before I looked away.

"Father was a prisoner against his will," I said. "And Uncle Themmichus was...well, a sort of prisoner, too."

She smoothed down my hair and pulled me into a hug. "I'm sorry, Taryn. For everything you had to do, for everything you had to...to go through." She trailed off, miserable and helpless.

I put my arms around her, and she squeezed me tight.

"I saw the world," I whispered in her ear.

She pulled away, puzzled, and I gave her a smile. "I saw the whole Ardain, Mother. I met two great lords and a pack of brigands, a handful of wizards and an elf. I had an adventure. While you were stuck on some old boat, I...I found my father. I found a way to be reunited with my father."

She tried to hide it, but fear glowed in her eyes like the madness that had burned in his. She bit her lip, searching for the words. I waited. At last she stammered, "Seriphenes said...and he claimed Themm and...the elf both agreed...Daven's dangerous."

"That's what everyone is so afraid of," I said. "Even Father. Especially Father. But it's not always true."

She sagged, disappointed. "Not
always
?"

"No!" I said fiercely. "And that's better than nothing. It's better than dead, Mother."

She gasped, but before she could voice a rebuke, I set my shoulders and said, "Everyone is ready to give up on him, Mother. Even Caleb. Even Father himself. But he's not a monster. Not in his heart. And he can be talked around."

She dipped her head into a sympathetic shrug. "I want to believe that as much as you do."

"And you should. You have to. Because you're the key."

"What key?"

"You bring him back. Uncle Themm said it happened once before. I've seen it happen twice in the last day. All he needs is you."

She pressed her lips tight while tears traced shimmering paths across her pale cheeks. "He was so afraid of hurting me."

"He can't," I said. "I've seen it in his eyes. Whatever monster lives inside him, it wants to burn the whole world down. But when it comes to you—-"

"And you," she said, trying to comfort me. "He didn't hurt you."

I showed her a grateful smile, but it wasn't the same. She was the one he really needed. For that matter, he was the one she needed. If they could find happiness together, that was good enough for me.

"Father may not believe it—Haven knows Laelia won't—but if you are at his side, he'll be safe enough."

I didn't notice how still she'd gone until I heard the cutting edge in her voice. "Tell me about Laelia."

"Mother—"

"Taryn! Please. Do you have any idea what King Timmon might do to your father? I need to know everything."

"Laelia's an elf. She has a kind of magic. She can get inside your head and give you dreams. She made Father dream of you. Of a trip you took together once to Gath. That's how she kept him safe."

My mother frowned. "Seriphenes spoke of her like some kind of oracle."

I sighed. "Laelia thinks she can see futures, but she's wrong."

"It's not uncommon among the elves."

"She's wrong!" I said. "She can't account for Father's will. He's stronger than she thinks."

Pity warm and tender swelled in Mother's eyes. "Oh, Taryn. What did she say?"

"It doesn't matter! She's wrong."

"Taryn?"

"She's wrong!"

I tried to look away, but Mother's expression held me trapped. I could not defy it. At last my shoulders slumped. "Laelia said you should be a slave here. She said Father should spend the rest of his life trapped in that memory."

"It would not be such an awful life," she said.

"It would not be life at all! I've seen it. She just...just banks him like a hearthfire. Smolder without flames."

Mother squeezed my hands. "And you? What would become of you?"

"It doesn't matter. It's not an answer! She said we have to satisfy this wretched king and sacrifice ourselves—"

"She told you to go home." It was a guess. I could tell by her voice. A total guess, but spoken with perfect certainty.

"She wants me to pretend to be a happy little lord."

"Of course."

I shook my head. "How can you say that? How can you agree with her?"

"I don't." Something soft in her voice made me meet her eyes. She looked utterly vulnerable. "I don't agree with her. She agrees with me."

"What?"

"She has been so long pretending to be me." Tears shone in her eyes. "And now she sees the world the way I see it."

For a moment I just shook my head, mute. "No."

She nodded.

"No!" I almost begged. "You
want
to stay here? You want him to go back?"

"If Daven could be happy, Taryn? Do you have any idea how much he ached with the fear of losing control? If she could take that from him...if you could keep the Tower in peace...yes. Yes. I wouldn't even have to consider. I would stay here and kiss the king's boots every morning and every night if it gained me that."

I had to catch my breath before I could answer. "Don't think like that. Wind and rain! You're as bad as the rest of them!"

She cupped my cheek in a tender hand like I was still a little boy. "The world is full of tragedies. When you've lived as long as I have, you'll learn there are just some things—"

"No! No, not you! You found the last dragon in all Ardain and bonded it without even a second watching vigil. You joined the king in his own carriage so you could find your husband a decade after everyone said he was dead. And now that you've found him, you're ready to give up?"

My mother set her jaw and stared hard for a moment. Then she cleared her throat. "I was searching for the man my husband was. Not the monster he's become."

"But he's not! It's a passing thing. He can overcome it."

She had to clear her throat before she could answer. "Well when he does—"

"Not when, Mother. Now. It's been too long. You have to fix this now!"

She brushed my hair back from my face. "I know what you're wishing for, Taryn. I know just how much you want it. I do. But it's not real."

"We could make it real."

"No. Not anymore. As you said, it's been too long."

I took her hands in mine and caught her eyes. "You're wrong. I know. I spoke with Father not an hour ago.
Him
. The real him, not the madness. And all he really wants is to go home. With you."

"But it's too dangerous. If something should go wrong, at least the elf can—"

"She can't. She can't do anything more than pretend she's you. Poorly."

Mother giggled at that, pent-up tension finding an escape.

I squeezed her fingertips. "
You
are what he needs. And you have something even the elf doesn't."

She cocked her head. "Oh?"

"The dragon. If something should wrong, could the dragon do to him what...whatever she did to the king's army train?"

"Just put him to sleep?"

I nodded. "It would buy us time, at least. Until we figured something out."

She hesitated, searching for some new objection.

"It would be no worse than living in the elf's hallucination," I said. "And you could be together."

At last, almost reluctant, she said, "It could work."

"It could. Where's your dragon now?"

"Somewhere east of Dorion. But coming back here fast."

"Good," I said. "Father needs the Tower, just as the Tower needs him. But...but we'll have to get him from the king."

She straightened her spine and looked like a woman prepared to go to battle. "We will go and take him."

I took up my sword, never doubting I would need it. "Lead the way."

Even as we turned toward the door, it slammed open. My Green Eagle guards and my knights alike jumped away, hands darting to their weapons, but none of them dared draw against the man framed in the doorway.

The Grand Marshall glared around the room. He'd had time to change into his full uniform, his hair slicked down now and heavy swords strapped on his hip and back.

He looked me up and down, eyes lingering on the scabbard in my hands, then rounded on the guards with a contemptuous wave to my knights. "You let all your prisoners go armed these days?"

They both went pale. One stammered, "His Majesty allowed—"

"His charity abounds," the Grand Marshall snarled. "But you have a responsibility to watch for danger. Did you not notice you are now outnumbered?"

The guard colored, and though he lowered his voice I heard him quite clearly. "But he is just a boy, and we have another six on guard out in the corridor."

The Grand Marshall glowered. "The boy was trained by Caleb Drake himself. And these two were as well. They'd have you spitted before you could even shout."

Jen nearly preened beneath the praise, but the Grand Marshall treated her and Toman to a sneer like he might give a rabid dog. Then at least he turned to me again. "But it doesn't matter. We'll be done of them soon."

Mother stiffened beside me, and in her most regal voice she demanded, "What do you mean by that?"

"I've come to give you escort to the hall. The king will see you now."

Mother raised her chin. "That suits us well enough."

Even so, we left the room escorted on all side by armed guards, not in the display of determination we'd shown a moment before. And when Jen and Toman tried to follow us, the Grand Marshall looked them up and down and said, "Only if they leave their weapons."

Jen agreed. Toman didn't. He accepted Jen's sword and waited in my room. I held out mine toward him, too, but the Grand Marshall closed a massive hand around my wrist. "That one comes before the king. His Majesty's orders."

I'd never felt such nervous fear as I did in that march. Not in the cells beneath Tirah, not tied down while a building burned around me, not even trapped beneath the dragon's claw. Everything before had threatened me, but now we went to determine my father's fate, and with it my mother's. My fingers found the edge of Mother's hand, and she squeezed mine in a show of comfort. Her eyes were fixed straight ahead, her tread was steady, but I felt a trembling in her arms. I felt it in my arms, too.

I had to find her a fate worth living. Whatever happened next, I had to safeguard her future. Caleb was in chains and my father on the headsman's block, so this was up to me. I held her cold fingers in my right hand and gripped the threaded hilt of Father's sword in my left.

Our guards threw wide the throne room doors, and the Grand Marshall went to cry out like our herald, "The Lady Eliade and child Taryn."

His words boomed in the huge hall. Rows and rows of benches stood empty, and the wide, cleared circle around the foot of the throne held only half a dozen men. Two of them bore pikes and two crossbows, and two wore the long black robes of wizards. Seriphenes and the Justice Antinus, and on the ground between them was my father. Still unconscious.

I almost ran to him, but hands like iron caught my shoulders and restrained me. Mother, too, let out a cry of "Daven!" but the Grand Marshall himself caught her with one massive arm around her waist and hauled her bodily away. She screamed and clawed at his arm, but he just squeezed until she groaned and relented.

A growl tore from my heart, full of all the animal hate I had heard from the dragon of Terrailles. I slung aside the leather sheath and turned on the Grand Marshall, ready to kill him, but the grip on my shoulder prevented me.

Jen stepped up between us, hands raised in warning. "Put that away or they will kill us all."

"He has my mother!" I threw a demanding glance down the long aisle of crimson carpet and over my father's prone form to meet the amused gaze of the king on his throne. "Tell your hound to put her down!"

The king raised his eyebrows in surprise, then turned to the Grand Marshall. His feeble voice barely reached across the hall. "Dear Othin! Bring her to my side as I commanded. Taryn, do come too. The little girl may wait outside."

Before I could object, Jen shook her head and retreated. Then I turned back to settle the Grand Marshall, but he was already ten paces down the aisle, my mother thrown across his shoulder like a bag of meal. I chased after them, but the Grand Marshall darted up onto the dais, half a pace behind the throne, while the pikemen standing watch over Father lowered their pikes to block my way.

Irritated, I batted one aside and ducked between them, my eyes still fixed on Mother. The soldier reversed his weapon and drove its butt into my stomach. Pain exploded and I folded up around it, falling backward to a seat on the aisle.

On the throne, the king clucked in mild dismay. "Now, now. He is our guest of honor here. Show the child some gentleness."

I groaned and staggered to my feet. I had to ground the sword's perfect point in the expensive carpet and use it like a cane to hold my balance. The guards withdrew again to aim their pikes at Father's still form, but they watched me with no gentleness at all.

And well they did, because in his place behind the king, the Grand Marshall had apparently grown tired of Mother's struggles. He had her on her knees beside him now, a heavy-bladed dagger pressed so close against her throat that it paled the skin beneath its edge. She stared from me to Father, eyes strained wide, and barely seemed to breathe.

I looked to the king for some redress, but he was watching my expression with amusement. "Will you truly allow this brutality?" I asked.

The king leaned forward. "It is unfortunate, but Othin is...an honest man. He does not go in for subtleties. And this brutality is, I fear, completely necessary."

"What has she ever done to deserve such treatment?"

"She defied my written law. She wed herself to a murderer and allied herself with sedition. She collected false taxes and spent them in maintenance of an unlawful fortification. And she brought arms against me in my own palace. And if I understand correctly, she may be consort to a dragon."