The Dragonprince's Heir (28 page)

A bitter brew of fear and fury had long been brewing in my stomach. Now it churned to a boil, and I asked through clenched teeth, "How long, uncle?"

He wouldn't meet my eyes. "Taryn...her power works on me. You have to understand. If I even try to confront her, she turns me away."

"How long has my father been your prisoner here?"

"Not my prisoner. His own. He begged me to find some way to restrain him."

"For ten years?"

The blood drained from my uncle's face, but he raised his eyes to mine. He nodded once. "Daven made me promise—"

"Why? Why have you told no one?"

Laelia answered. "I would not allow him to." She stood framed within the gateway, looking small now. Her hands were folded, her head was bowed. "The world is safer with the Dragonprince forgotten."

I stomped toward her. "You took him from me!"

She nodded. My face contorted painfully with all the rage I felt; angry accusations piled on my tongue, too many to give voice to. I spun on Uncle Themm, then back to the fox-faced lady, ready to do violence on both.

And then at last I managed to speak again. "My father is alive?" They were not the words I'd meant to say. "My father is alive?" It was not the rage I'd meant to bellow. To my own ears, it was a tiny child's voice.

Themmichus squeezed my shoulder. I blinked past tears and tried to brace myself against hope that swelled like a killing flood and fear that came behind like sucking sinkholes. I swayed, and only the wizard's bony grip kept me upright.

At last I caught a breath, and I screamed at Laelia. "Is this some cruel trick of yours?"

She answered with a quiet, "No."

I tried to catch my breath again. "No?"

"If it were in my power, I would see that you forget. I would see that you do not believe. But I cannot deceive your mind at all. I do not understand."

My uncle sent me forward with the slightest pressure on my shoulder. I drew myself up before the lady. "Show me to my father."

She bared her teeth. "It is unwise."

"Show me to him."

"He wants to be alone."

"For ten years?" My voice came with a cutting edge, and she retreated.

She raised her hands before her face. "There is some fractured sanity somewhere within, but he cannot control the depths of his great powers."

"Uncle," I said coldly, "hand me my sword."

The lady gasped. I heard the wizard begin to move, but Laelia whispered a word of command and he fell still.

"You insist on fighting me?" I demanded.

"I would die for him."

"And you'll make this his destiny?" I asked. "He made himself from nothing. He survived monsters and kings. He built a bulwark against cataclysm, and you'll have him spend eternity a prisoner in your dream? That's your reward?"

"It is the only way he's safe."

I shook my head. "I don't believe it. There was always a dragon aspect to his power, but he learned control—"

She shook her head, a sad smile in her eyes. "That is the nature of Man. He always thinks he's found a way to master Chaos. And yet there always is a price."

"But..." I searched my memory for stories. "No. He found a way in Mother. She was his...his talisman. She brought him home."

The lady blushed and would not meet my eyes. "I know."

"He will find the same restraint for my sake. I am his son. Show me to him."

"It is not safe."

An animal snarl tore out of me. I spun around to my uncle who held the sheathed sword stretched out toward me. I grabbed the hilt and spun, slinging the sheath away, and turned back to her with the blade naked in my hand. "You are not free to choose when my father leaves this place. Not anymore. Show me to him or stand aside, but I will not be stopped."

She wilted like a flower in the sun. She turned in place and slunk away along the path. I stopped for a moment at my uncle's side. Once more, a touch on his shoulder was enough to bring him from his reverie. I chewed my thumbnail. "I've won us entry, but if you come you must keep contact with me, or—"

His cheeks went red. "No. She doesn't understand your power. She doesn't know it can be shared. I've no desire to draw that to her attention. But it's as well, for I have other work to do. Bring your father here, and I will have a portal waiting."

"To where?"

"The Tower," he said, smiling. "Did I not promise? I believe Daven's best hope of recovery lies within his stronghold, with...you or Isabelle nearby."

I threw a nervous glance toward the garden's heart. I swallowed hard. "What will I say to him?"

My uncle smiled and clapped his hand on my arm. "Speak your heart and speak your mind. You are both good men. Good will come of this."

Then he nodded past me, encouraging, and I turned to follow the lady into her bower. Laelia waited in the darker shade beneath the trees. Her frame seemed smaller now, the night colder. She watched me carefully as I approached, but she would not meet my eyes. She panted, short and sharp, and her teeth gleamed in tiny pinpoints.

She was afraid to take me to him. Despite what she had done, I felt a pang of pity. "Has my father become so terrible as that?"

"No. He is good and kind, but he cannot control the fires in his heart."

"He did for Mother."

The elf looked at me, then quickly looked away. "There was a time when he could find control for Isabelle. Now...he doesn't have the strength within."

I sighed. "You know I cannot trust your word. You've already told me I should leave."

"And many hearts will wish you had, your own among them. But I can see enough to know that I will not sway you. This destiny was written when you took up your father's sword."

"Then why are you afraid?"

She met my eyes. "Your mother's is not the only heart that hurts for him."

I clamped my teeth against a flash of anger. "My mother never made him her prisoner."

She hung her head, but she did not yet turn away. "I cannot compel your heart, but I would offer you one warning. Whatever comes, you must not let him see his bride in peril from the king."

"Oh? Then you will let my father leave?"

"Who am I? I'm just a flower by the way." Head bowed, she turned and led me deeper into darkness. "But do not let him see her suffer. He will not come back from that madness. It would be kinder far to kill him by your hand."

The words seemed to hang in the air; they clung to me like spiderwebs as I followed down the path. Time within that place was strange. I might have covered ten paces, but it felt like long, dark miles. A strange uncertainty and sapping fear rattled in my breast. My steps went slower and slower while the lady's dark portents echoed in my head. Was she manipulating my mind again, planting doubts? Or was my own heart so weak?

No matter the answer, my solution was the same. I gripped the sword my father had made me, taking comfort from its weight, and broke into a run. Laelia turned my way, eyes opened wide in shock, but I only had a moment to see them. I sprinted past her, pounding down the path, and no more than ten paces brought me from the trees into a wide, well-tended park. The grass was lush and low and green, running right up to a gentle beach along the curving lake.

And he was there, alone.

The Dragonprince stood at the water's edge, where little waves lapped at his bare feet. His back was to me, his loose hair playing on the wind. His clothes were simple cotton, lightly worn, and he was smaller than I'd expected. He looked fragile and forgotten, trapped and tired.

All those impressions registered in the instant I first saw him. One heartbeat later my momentum carried me off the path and onto the soft grass, and the figure on the sand reacted. He could not have heard me, could not have seen my motion, but from a perfect stillness, he spun.

The night congealed around him as he moved, solid shadows swirling like a cloak. An uneven ember glow flashed and danced within the darkness and reflected in his eyes. He wore no weapons on his belt, but as he turned the sand beneath his feet swirled up into a cloud and then collapsed into a blade in his right hand.

Fire blossomed in his left, licking hungrily at the air. It writhed like a living serpent and uncoiled into a javelin of flame. He snarled like a rabid dog and flung the spear. It burned the air with a forgefire roar as it arched toward my heart. I hadn't time to think, but Caleb's training saved my life. I turned my body, set my feet, and raised my sword to block the thrust.

Elemental fire hot enough to sear a stone struck the strange, blond blade, and to my surprise the fire split against the flawless edge. Two tongues of fire curled away to either side, dissolving in the cool air. The spear of flame had stretched out paces long as it flew, but when it fell against my sword the fire died.

My eyes sought out my adversary's—more of Caleb's training—to track what he intended. I found a face so like my own, only carved with harder planes and sharper edges. But in his eyes I saw a raging conflagration. I saw the death of worlds. He raised the empty hand again, and in his eyes I saw my obliteration.

Then the lady stood between us. She was thin and sickly to my eyes, frail and wavering, but she threw herself into his line of sight, and he recoiled. His feet kicked up lake water. He threw the sword away, and it melted as it left his hand. It was just a spray of sand as it pelted the rippling waters.

My father stretched his hand toward the elf, his dark eyes pleading, and his cloaking shadows broke apart to drift off with the breeze.

Eyes bright with tears, he stared at Laelia. "Forgive me, Isabelle. I didn't see you there."

I gaped.

She stepped closer, shoulders heaving, and her voice almost broke. "I forgive you, Daven. I forgive you."

Relief twitched across his face, replaced again by dark suspicion. He nodded past the lady's shoulder. "Who is this?"

The lady answered quickly, "He is a guest who hoped to speak with you."

I stepped closer, fighting down my fear to speak with all the kindness I could muster. "I am your son."

The lady frowned at me. My father only narrowed his eyes for a moment, otherwise impassive, then shook his head. "I can't guess what you're playing at, but I have no son."

I gasped. The lady whispered fiercely, "Taryn!" but I was in no mood to hear her.

"You
are
my father, and Isabelle Eliade my mother."

He threw his head back and laughed. It was not a wholesome sound. As he came up out of the water, he moved with an animal's predatory prowl, eyes fixed on mine.

"Is this some joke of Lareth's? If so, it's poorly done. Wind and rain, you're
grown
. You couldn't be my child."

"Lareth's dead." The words came automatically, and they sounded just as numb as I felt inside. "He's ten years dead. You buried him before you left the Tower."

He frowned at me. Then he looked to Laelia for some explanation.

But that was all the answer I needed. Laelia. I turned to her. "This is how you keep him here? How much of his life have you stolen?"

He growled something behind me, but my attention was all on her. She met my gaze with defiance. "I had to isolate an anchor of stability."

My father came closer. "Who is this, Isabelle? What have I missed?"

She caught my shoulder and turned me to face him. "This is an honored guest. I hoped you could explain to him—"

I slapped her hand away. "I would not take part in your lies!"

But the words were barely spoken before I felt the cold, sharp tip of a blade just beneath my chin. I only moved my eyes, glancing down the glassy black length of a newly summoned sword in Father's hand.

Perhaps the sword he'd given me could cut through this as easily as it had his fire. I couldn't guess, and I would not have time to learn. He would have me spitted if my shoulder even twitched. I saw it in his eyes.

His nostrils flared. "Stranger, consider how harshly you would treat my bride."

I stood on tiptoe, and still the sword's point pressed painfully beneath my jawbone. I could barely speak, but I hissed desperately, "She is not your bride."

"Taryn," the lady began, a note of warning in her voice.

I shook my head as much as I dared, still holding my father's gaze. "She is an elf with power over your mind."

He laughed, dark and bitter. "I know my mind. Like no one you have ever met. And I know everyone who trespasses in it."

Behind me, the lady shuddered. That only made me angrier. "She hides you from what you've become. She says you asked it of her. She is not Isabelle."

He didn't answer me. For a long moment he just stared at me. He took a calming breath and then another, and then he seemed to stare
through
me. He turned that penetrating gaze to Laelia, and once more she shuddered. The blade beneath my throat withdrew enough that I could breathe again, and I gulped gratefully at the cool night air.

Father stared at the elf. "Who are you?"

"You know me, my prince," she protested weakly, but I silenced her with a vicious glare.

"Show him who you are."

"She doesn't have to," Father said, embers crackling in his voice. "I can see her."

She frowned at me, closed her eyes, and spoke as in a dream. "Daven Dragonprince, remember who you were when you were still strong enough to stand alone. When you came to this place in peace. Remember Isabelle beside you and forget this child."

My father's eyes fixed on something far away, and he fell into a trance much as Themmichus had done. The sword fell from his hand, whispering to dust long before it touched the ground.

His hand began to fall to his side again, and I almost caught it. I almost broke the spell she'd draped across his mind, but I remembered my uncle's warning. We didn't want to reveal that power until we were ready, and I had questions still for Laelia.

"You brought me here," I said. "Why would you not let me speak to my father?"

"Openly reveal the truth? No. The world would burn."

"So you...you keep him like this? All the time?"

"Not always like this," she said. "I like to leave him free to touch the sand and sky, but you were indiscreet."