No doubt it was the blood loss that had led to such a grave error in judgment. Not to mention that the Nenavarene court in general was playing havoc with his senses, this gaudy world where it was growing increasingly difficult to separate pretense from reality. A world where the grubby, hot-headed soldier who had been his nemesis waltzed into his room in an elegant gown, spouting apologies, promising cooperation.
Talasyn had clearly been following her wily grandmother’s orders. It seemed that Urduja was training his little Lightweaver to become quite the politician.
His?
Alaric bolted upright in bed, a frustrated snarl escaping from his lips as the covers slid down to his bare waist. He didn’t know how long he sat there in the gloom of his quarters, its curtains drawn against the radiance of the seven moons, but eventually he felt it. Now that the sariman cages had been removed, a stern demand for entrance tugged and scratched at the corners of his magic like clawed fingers, a call that he was powerless to ignore.
You are the Night Emperor, a part of him mulishly insisted. You shouldn’t have to answer to anyone.
He shuddered. He took a deep, meditative breath, adopting a blank, calm facade right before he opened the Shadowgate. Right before he dove into the aether, where Gaheris was waiting.
The world shivered at the edges as Alaric walked into the In-Between. “Father.” He was already speaking as he approached the throne. Gaheris was no doubt displeased by the lengthy communications blackout, and he would be even more displeased by the identity of the Nenavarene Lachis’ka. Alaric was anxious to get it over with, so he explained the situation as quickly and as succinctly as possible. Gaheris’s eyes flickered, but his expression remained impassive for the most part. The only time it showed anything resembling genuine interest was when Alaric mentioned the upcoming Night of the World-Eater.
“I must admit to some . . . bewilderment,” Gaheris finally said, “regarding your failure to insist that you be able to contact me. Did you forget that we’ve had the upper hand all this time? When it turned out that your magic was crucial to saving them, did you not use this to your advantage?”
“The Nenavarene see me as the Night Empire’s figurehead, Father, and they would have questioned my authority to negotiate—”
“So it was your pride that got in the way,” Gaheris silkily interrupted. “Perhaps you did not want to lose face in front of the Lightweaver? Or perhaps you were afraid that I would disapprove of the union?”
Alaric remained silent. There was no defense left to him, not when Gaheris was talking in that deceptively gentle manner of his that almost always indicated a taste of pain in the near future. The air in the In-Between grew thinner, dark magic crackling in corners that did not exist in the material realm, strange shapes lurking in the shadows.
“Once again you have let the girl cloud your common sense,” the Regent growled. “A revelation of this magnitude—you know that you should have informed me right away, and yet you didn’t. You hid behind these sariman cages, a flimsy excuse, keeping it secret from me that you are marrying the Lightweaver that you should have killed months ago.”
“It’s better that I didn’t succeed in killing her, surely?” Alaric couldn’t stop himself from asking. “This treaty would never have been possible without her. The Night Empire would never have been able to stop the Voidfell once it reached our shores.”
His father stared at him for a long time, a searching, knowing gaze that left Alaric feeling small, fear and resentment and guilt hollowing out the inside of his chest.
“I am not so certain that you are up to this, boy,” Gaheris sneered. “The Nenavar Dominion will draw you in and they will strike at the first sign of weakness. That is their style and Urduja Silim has mastered it. How else do you think she has held on to her throne for so long? There is no doubt in my mind that she is training her granddaughter likewise. The Lightweaver will never return this bizarre infatuation that you have for her, but she will in time learn to wield it against you if you don’t nip it in the bud.”
“I’m not infatuated—” Alaric began to protest, but Gaheris interrupted him with a bitter laugh that echoed off the In-Between’s shivering boundaries.
“Shall we call it obsession, then?” the Regent demanded. “Shall we call it the fanciful notions of a weakling whom I have been entirely too lenient with? Who is in the end his mother’s son?”
Alaric looked down at his feet, humiliated. To hear someone else put it into words made him feel so unbearably stupid—and angry—that he’d let Talasyn get too close.
“Don’t think that I’ve forgotten,” Gaheris continued, “all those months ago, when she was still a nameless little Sardovian rat, how you put forward the notion that she be allowed to live. You told me that you were curious about the light-and-shadow barrier. But it wasn’t just curiosity, was it?”
“It was,” Alaric tersely insisted. He would never reveal to Gaheris the words that left his lips as he faced Talasyn beneath Lasthaven’s shattered skies. You could come with me. We can study it. Together. That had been nothing short of treason. “But are you truly not curious, Lord Regent? It’s a new thing, this merging of magic. There could be other useful applications.”
As far as attempts to distract his father from his shortcomings went, this proved to be a success. A familiar old revulsion twisted Gaheris’s skeletal features. “I will not allow the Lightweave to taint the Shadowgate any more than is necessary,” he spat. “Create the barriers with her until the Voidfell is driven back, but, afterwards, I expect you to lay this part of the alliance to rest. The Lightweave is a plague on the world. On our family. Kesath does not need it to thrive. Is that clear?”
Alaric nodded.
“For your insolence and your abysmal handling of this situation, you will be punished upon your return to Kesath,” Gaheris decreed. “For now, we must discuss what is to be done about the Nenavar Dominion and the Sardovians.”
“The Sardovians?”
Gaheris lost his temper then, slamming a withered fist on the throne’s armrest so suddenly and viciously that it took all of Alaric’s control not to flinch. “You imbecile!” In contrast to its previous mildness, his father’s voice now roared like thunder, filling the In-Between. “Had you been thinking with your brain, you might have seen what was in front of your very eyes! If the Lightweaver truly doesn’t know where the Sardovian fleet is hiding, what’s left of them will certainly attempt to find her one of these days. They might even be successful. You will have to be ever vigilant. Perhaps even try to extract their location from her if she does know it—after the wedding, once she has let her guard down a little.”
Alaric frowned. “You mean for me to go through with this?”
“Regardless of the Lachis’ka’s identity, the advantages of marrying her still stand,” said Gaheris. “Here is how you must deal with the Nenavarene from now on . . .”
The negotiations wrapped up in the early afternoon of the following day. The Kesathese delegation was firm and brusque, the Dominion uncharacteristically acquiescent. It seemed to Talasyn that they had lost more ground on this last day than they’d gained over the past sennight, but Queen Urduja obviously wanted to avoid adding fuel to Alaric’s ire. He was in the blackest mood that Talasyn had ever seen, forfeiting all trace of politeness in favor of a sullen menace which made it clear that it would take only one more misstep on the Nenavarene’s part for him to rain down the wrath of his lurking fleet on their heads.