“I know.” I opened my senses to Valyn and brushed up against what reminded me of a Rise. The urge to find the cracks I knew had to be in his shields hit me again. Reaching for the pouch at my hip instead of the ring, I squeezed the toy horse and pushed past the need. “If you’re here to try to convince me not to go to Carsodonia, I…I appreciate your concern—more than you probably realize,” I admitted. “But I have to do this.”
“I wish there was something I could say that would change your mind, but you’re stubborn. Like my son. Like both my sons.” He touched the back of a chair. “Do you mind if I sit?”
“Of course, not.” I moved to the seat across from him and sat in the thick, upholstered chair.
“Thank you.” The armor creaked as he lowered, stretching out his right leg. “I know I can’t change your mind, but I’m worried. A lot can happen. A lot can go wrong. If we lose you in addition to them—”
“They’re not lost. We know where they are. I’m going to find them,” I told him. “And maybe Malik is—” I drew in a deep breath, squeezing the horse again. “Maybe Malik is lost to us. But Casteel isn’t. I will get him back, and I will do as you asked before if necessary.”
A ragged breath left him, and he appeared to take a few moments to collect himself.
Slowly, I extended my left hand and showed him my palm—my marriage imprint. “He’s alive. Sometimes, I need to be reminded of that,” I whispered. “He lives.”
Valyn stared at my hand for what felt like a small eternity, then his eyes briefly closed. I’d kept my senses open, and for a moment, I picked up on something from him—something that reminded me of the sour green mangos that Tawny had enjoyed with breakfast every so often. Was it guilt? Shame? It was too brief to know for sure.
“With everything that has been happening, there hasn’t been a lot of time, but there’s something we need to talk about. And I have walked this realm long enough to know there’s not always a later,” he said, and my chest clenched. I knew anything could happen, but I didn’t want to think about that happening to him. “I know what you discussed with my wife upon your return to Evaemon,” he announced.
Every muscle in my body tensed, but my grip on the toy horse loosened.
He leaned back in the chair, rubbing his knee. “I know that you were angry with her.”
“I still am.” I slid my hand from the pouch before I did something stupid, like accidentally set it on fire. “That is not in the past.”
“And you have every right to be. As does Casteel and Malik if he…” He exhaled roughly. “I’m not here to speak for Eloana, only for myself. I’m sure you’ve wondered if I knew the truth about the Blood Queen.”
I flattened my hands on my thighs. “I have. It’s one of the things I think about when I can’t sleep at night,” I shared. “Did you know? I’m willing to bet Alastir did.”
“He did,” Valyn confirmed, and if Alastir hadn’t already been ripped to pieces and most likely consumed by the wolven, I would’ve dug up his body just so I could stab him again. Repeatedly. “He knew before I did.”
Surprise flickered through me, but I didn’t trust my reaction. “Really?”
“I had assumed that she died, either before the war or during it. I believed that for many years,” he said, and I kept myself quiet and still. “Eloana never spoke of her or Malec, and I let it be because I knew it was difficult for her. That a part of her loved him, although he wasn’t deserving of such a gift. That a part of her would always love him, even though she loves me.”
Now that did surprise me. Valyn knew what Eloana had admitted to me, and I didn’t think for a moment that knowledge lessened how much Valyn loved her. A measure of respect grew in me for the man. Because if Casteel felt that way for Shea, I would be consumed by irrational jealousy.
“It wasn’t until she took Casteel the first time that Eloana told me what she had learned about the Queen of Solis,” he continued, the muscle under his temple ticking again. “I was…” A dry laugh left him. “Furious doesn’t quite capture what I felt then. If I had known the truth, I never would’ve retreated. I would’ve known that we couldn’t end the war that way. That there was too much personal history for there to ever be an end, and maybe that’s why she kept it a secret for so long. Or maybe it was because the lie had somehow become an unbreakable truth that held things together. I don’t know, but what I do know is that I need to tell the truth now. I didn’t know from the beginning, but I knew the truth about her for long enough. The whole situation is…hard and complicated.”