In the Wake of the Ruined (The Siren Mage, #2)(49)

I shrugged, lost in my story. “The rest of them, though—Panos of Varya, my mother, Ligea, Milton of Della—they raised kingdoms up very willingly.”

“And what of magic?” Halla asked. Her voice had changed, and I wondered suddenly if this was what she’d wanted all along. To learn more about Eusia.

“What of it?” A new song began, this one more boisterous. I spoke louder to be heard. “Magic is…” I disliked the twinge of empathy I felt for Eusia. She didn’t deserve it. “I suppose Eusia’s creation of spell work was just one more attempt to strike some balance in a very imbalanced world. She was not imbued with power, so she made some herself.”

Halla looked almost feverish now, eyes glassy and distant, as if she were combing through her memories. “I’d been taught that Eusia was Ligea’s sister, but that during her creation she’d been forsaken.”

My brow creased. “Forsaken?”

“Yes.” Halla’s swell of emotion thickened her accent. She spoke nearly too quickly to be understood. “Eusia had been looked over and was only given the same power that the rest of the Sirens were given—a voice that lures, and meager influence over the water and wind. She was created by the same spirit as Ligea. She deserved equal greatness.”

An unsettling prickle moved across my skin. “Even if I’d been forsaken,” I said in a hard voice, “I could never be as cruel as Eusia has been simply to make my lot evenhanded.”

Halla scowled, lashes fluttering as she cut her attention to her goblet. “I expect you cannot understand. You possess every power your realm has to offer.”

“Do I?”

The fog seemed to grow denser now, curling over the table. “You are a Goddess, a queen, and a Mage Seer at once.” She gave me a very serious look, chin low, eyes wide. “It is cruel to speak of evenhandedness yet disparage Eusia’s desperation when you have everything she has ever wanted. All without trying.”

A warning pealed through me. One I couldn’t fully grasp, but my body felt it. I wasn’t certain that Halla could ever unlearn all she’d been raised to believe. I lifted my goblet to my lips, not wishing for Halla, or anyone at this table, to know that I felt like a pretender to every one of my titles. My power felt as sturdy and reliable as a shadow did. I took a gulp, then set my cup down carefully. “I expect that Eusia could possess everything I do, and still, she would want for more.”

After a long moment, all that Halla offered me in response was a curt nod. Markis had gone through two goblets of wine, but Aleka’s attention had been fixed on Halla and me. She didn’t break it until the music changed. Now the tune turned floating, tranquil, the soft notes reminiscent of a lullaby. Without a word, she stood and left.

I was ready to leave too. I pushed back my chair when Halla set a hand to her stomach as if to settle a new bout of seasickness. “I have one more question. Please.”

“What?”

“Did your father…” Halla started to say, then stopped herself. “Forgive me for asking. It’s rather personal. I wonder if having a mortal father lessened you in any way?”

I did my best not to jolt at the question. Lachlan’s finger began to drum the table.

Yes, having Nemea as a father lessened me in every way.

But I knew she was asking after the power I’d inherited from my mother. I took a wedge of orange from the plate before me, took a bite, and mulled over my answer. Eusia had stolen my mother and had made a votary of my deplorable father, but I’d never known them as they’d been before. Had there been goodness in Nemea once? Had the spirit truly blessed me with the same potency it had my mother? And had my mother’s vast power made her terrible? A heaviness filled my chest, but I managed an easy gesture. “I suppose I’ll never know.”

Halla’s brow puckered in frustration. She stood quickly. “Commander, Steward, I’d like a word alone with Queen Imogen.”

Markis seemed happy to be dismissed, but Lachlan lingered until I gave him a reassuring nod. He glowered at Halla, not bothering to hide his mistrust. “I’ll be just beyond the helm.”

Halla lowered herself to the edge of the table, so I had to look up to meet her eye. “You see…” She stopped and worried her bottom lip with her teeth. “I am concerned that my being mortal will weaken our child.”

The air in my lungs went thin. “Your… child…” I remembered that vision of Eusia being appalled by Halla’s ordinary blood.

“I might interfere with the power of your Gods. My mother said my concerns were null, that I was being silly. But I am not of Leucosian lineage, like Nemea was. What if the power of your Gods can only be passed down through—”

My stomach had knotted so terribly that I couldn’t form words. I held up a hand, begging her to stop. “I can’t… Do not ask me.”

“I have no one else, and I thought—”

I had hoped to breach our divide, but I could not stretch myself this far. “The king’s marshal seems wise and well informed,” I said, harshly, as I rose from my seat. Theodore’s assurances against his pact with Halla had not been enough to prevent this conversation from stinging like nettle against soft skin. “Ask her.”

I turned for the open deck. A strong wind had finally started up, drawing the fog across the deck like a sheer curtain. The music was dwindling, the dancers slowing.