Finley takes his hand. She’s impossibly gentle as she strokes the back of his hand with her slender, graceful fingers. “Your Majesty, there must be a part of you that can tell right from wrong, because otherwise, you wouldn’t have cared to confess your darkest sins to Corvan. It counts for something, even if you lacked the courage to do right when it mattered.”
A shadow flits across father’s face. It’s as if two different sides are waging war inside him.
In the face of his despair, Finley’s unshakeable. “For you and I, this is both an introduction and a farewell. You can indeed take credit for delivering me to Corvan. I just want you to know that I will never stray from his side. I will protect him just as he protects me, and our love will always be freely given, never falsified or forced. As for forgiveness, it isn’t mine to give. When you pass into Hecoa’s domain, you should seek the ones you’ve wronged and beg their forgiveness.”
A tear slips down father’s cheek. He turns to me. “Corvan, forgive me.”
My heart is encased in walls of steel. And yet it beats steadily in response to Finley’s presence beside me. “For what you did to my mother, I can’t. For what you’ve done to the people of Rahava, you’ll have to beg them yourself. I can only give you my gratitude for sending Finley to me. That is all.”
My throat tightens. My heart feels like it’s being squeezed in a vice.
I want to be away from here.
I still want to kill him.
His tight expression softens just a fraction. He closes his eyes and lets out a faint sigh. “It’s all I can hope for. All the knowledge and secrets contained within the walls of this palace b-belong to you now. A-and I kn-know you will put them… to good use. Ch-check in the m-middle of the p-pond…”
Finley lets go of his hand, gently placing it on his chest.
Father doesn’t say anything more. His chest rises and falls in a steady rhythm, his breaths becoming slower and deeper, until so much time passes between each one that I wonder whether he’s breathing at all.
And each breath becomes labored, grating against my ears. From deep within his throat comes a faint rattle that grows louder and louder.
Finley reaches for my hand. I can hear her heartbeat, strong and vital. I can hear father’s heartbeat, fading away.
It’s obvious he isn’t going to speak anymore.
Right before our eyes, an era is passing. News of my father’s death is going to shake the entire continent. Perhaps that’s why he locked himself away here and kept his presence so tightly guarded right up until the end. As far as I can see, not one of his advisors or clerics or attendants has been here.
He kept his true condition a secret from everyone. Only the Elite Guard, who swore an oath of blood loyalty, were permitted to know of his illness, and they’ve protected him without uttering a word.
And he’s spent the very last of his life-force telling me all these damned truths.
Why do I suddenly feel so bereft? If Finley wasn’t here with me, I don’t know what I might have done.
She’s both gentle and mightily formidable. Even when the Emperor of Rahava begged for her forgiveness, she didn’t yield.
And now, my father is slipping into Hecoa’s embrace.
The Goddess of Death and Darkness, who denied me entry to her realm, will take him. She won’t deny him.
I should be feeling something right now—rage, vindictiveness, satisfaction, regret, sadness…
But I’m just numb.
The rattle in father’s throat grows slower and louder. Finley squeezes my hand and leans closer, leaning her head against my shoulder. “I think that in his dying moments, he really wanted to do the right thing by you, Corvan.”
“Death is the great equalizer,” I say softly as at last, he stops breathing. His heart stops.
For a moment, we just stand there, staring at the once mighty and and feared Tyrant of Rahava.
The man that sired me, and left me this mess for me.
I feel nothing.
I’m not even angry anymore.
I reach for the edge of the silk sheet, gently pulling it over his face.
For the first time in a very long time, I feel lost. It happened so fast; so unexpectedly, and the truths he left behind have shattered me.
I step away from the bed, pulling Finley with me. “At least I have you,” I murmur, burying my nose in her hair, planting a soft kiss on her head. “It was inevitable, I suppose.”
She looks up at me, tears welling in her depthless brown eyes. “Corvan, I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.” I lead her away, back into the antechamber. Things are going to have to be sorted out, matters of the emperor’s death dealt with. The empire will be thrust into chaos and infighting if I don’t take control.
But all of that can wait.
I stare out the window at the pond, teeming with golden fish.
My father’s last words ring in my head.
Check in the middle of the pond…
Come to think of it, there’s something there, under the water. I can’t make it out clearly, because it’s half-hidden beneath a swathe of floating winterlilies.
I see a rectangular shadow.
It looks like a metal chest of some sort…
Hiding in plain sight. How had I not noticed it before?
“Corvan.” But all of a sudden, Finley is saying my name, her stern tone, cutting through the noise of my thoughts. “Hold on for a moment. Before you go saving the world, look at me.”
She reaches up and wipes something away from my cheek with the pad of her thumb.
A tear.
“Hells.” I shake my head in surprise.
She gives me a smile; a wry, secret, understanding little smile. “Don’t cry, do you?”
“No,” I growl. “I don’t.” I look up at the bronze statue of my mother; at her beautiful, otherworldly features. I can only cling fiercely to my memories of her.
Suddenly, it makes sense that father had her likeness captured like this—like a goddess.
In death, she’s perfection.
It’s so twisted I can barely make sense of it.
He was like that, too.
A walking contradiction.
If only things had turned out differently…
I’d rather have her alive and imperfect than dead and immortalized. Every year, on the first day of spring, there’s a national day to honor her.
I feel sick from the hypocrisy of it all.
“Corvan.”
And then Finley’s there, drawing me into her embrace, pulling me back from the madness of it all.
My tears are flowing again. They feel strange; viscous. I’d almost forgotten what this feels like. But it doesn’t matter, because she’s kissing me, and somehow, she knows exactly what I need right now.
She always does.
52
FINLEY
Corvan’s tears are startling.
He didn’t even realize he was crying, did he? But that’s to be expected, for he’s a man who isn’t used to shedding tears. His inner walls are stronger and thicker than the walls of Tyron Castle itself.
And he’s carried so much on his shoulders, for so long.
The air around him feels thick with anger and sorrow. It isn’t my imagination. I can actually feel his aura.
Ever since that damn tree put its heart-seed inside me, breaking the magical seal that’s kept me hidden since birth, I’ve been extra-sensitive to everything around me. Sounds. Smells. Energies. Auras.