Margie sighed. “No.”
“How has he gotten away with it? And his father? And his father before him?”
“I asked this question of a narminoi, soon after my daughter was taken from me. It took months for Vicer to locate her.” She slid Vicer a fond look. He picked up her hand and squeezed it.
Lorian had mentioned a narminoi. “Would it be possible for me to talk to her?”
Vicer shrugged. “If she’s feeling sane that day.”
It seemed as if narminoi succumbed to the same insanity seers eventually did.
Tibris frowned. I knew what he was thinking. Was that how people would have eventually spoken about Mama?
Vicer seemed to have realized what he’d said, because he gave us an apologetic look and gestured for Margie to speak.
She took a sip of water. “According to the narminoi, this all began when the gods were arguing among themselves. They were anticipating the time when alliances between the kingdoms would snap and they would turn on one another—as creatures with sentience eventually do. Each of the gods had a theory about which kingdom would survive such a war. The gods argued about this for centuries until, finally, they agreed to a test.”
Tibris grimaced at me, and I nodded back. What were we but entertainment for the gods?
Margie gave us a faint smile. “Faric, god of knowledge, gave an artifact to the humans. Tronin, god of strength, gave the fae three artifacts. And Bretis, god of protection, had become reluctantly intrigued by the hybrid kingdom to the west. The people who had somehow thrived—even after separating from the fae. Bretis donated something that held such power, Tronin and Faric immediately grew jealous.”
“What did the gods give each kingdom?” I asked.
“The narminoi couldn’t tell me.” She nodded at my plate. “Eat.”
I took a bite. Margie’s chicken was tender and flavorful. But I could barely taste it. “What happened next?”
“The humans used their power not to look into their own lands and determine the health and wellness of their subjects. No, they began to look to their neighbors. And they grew envious. Why had the fae been given so much more magic than the humans? Why were the hybrids more powerful and longer-lived? Eventually, the human king became obsessed with these questions. His name was Regner.
“King Regner ignored the faes’ weaknesses—such as their ancient grudges and low fertility—and focused only on their great power and long lives. The jealous king decided he would take what he hadn’t been given, ensuring that his kingdom prospered.”
Tibris made a small noise. Obviously, he’d never heard this story either. Margie sighed, and she turned toward me.
“During this time, Regner’s son Crotopos died. Died from an injury that no healer in his kingdom could fix. Any fae visitors had already fled the human kingdom, their seers warning them of the king’s evil heart. The hybrids were already wary of both fae and humans—and had closed their borders decades before. And so, the prince died—while his wife was pregnant with their unborn child—and King Regner knew that if his son had been fae or hybrid, he would have lived.”
I couldn’t imagine what it had been like for Regner to watch his son die, knowing he could have been saved. Knowing the wound would have healed if he were anything but human.
It must have been torture.
“It was enough to drive the king to madness,” Margie said, nodding at whatever she saw on my face. “And yet Regner wasn’t mad when he ordered his people to invade the fae lands. He was sane when he ordered the slaughter of a peaceful group of fae nymphs in the forest close to his border. He was sane when he planned how he would make the fae king pay. And he was sane when he turned his attention to the hybrids, because they had something he wanted.”
No matter what had happened to his son, it didn’t excuse Regner from what he’d done to the hybrids. I wanted to weep for my people. To rage. I wanted vengeance.
Tibris reached out and peeled my hand off the side of the table. I’d been clenching it, white-knuckled, as Margie told her story. “What did the hybrids have that Regner wanted?”
She sighed. “The narminoi couldn’t tell me. It was only after several visits that I put this much together.”
“Why do people believe Sabium’s lies and those of his line? How have they gotten away with it for so long?”
Margie shrugged, but her expression was bleak. “How do you control a population? You keep the people poor and uneducated. Tell them the same lie for centuries, and tie that lie to religion. Those people will believe you even when the truth is dancing naked in front of them. Because to believe otherwise would mean their entire world has always been a lie. And that realization is too difficult for most people to take.”