Chapter 17

Chapter

Seventeen

Z ev clenched and unclenched his hands as he walked swiftly down the stairs, trying to regain his composure. He would need it for the confrontation that was coming.

As expected, his family awaited him in the kitchen, three pairs of eyes fixed tensely on him. In a move Zev considered optimistic, his mother had laid out a simple supper. He doubted there would be much eating. She was seated, but his father stood on the far side of the table, and Azai was leaning against the kitchen counter with his arms crossed.

"You all look very somber," Zev commented, lowering himself into a chair across from where his mother sat. He took the chance to swipe some bread, his stomach eager. "Did someone die?"

"This isn't a joking matter, Zevadiah." His father's use of his full name told Zev that he was in for a proper scolding. "Do you not understand the risk you take by bringing her back here?"

Zev took a moment to demolish the bread before he answered, unsure how much chance he'd get to eat once they really got stuck into him .

"I understand the risk," he said at last, keeping his voice even. "With respect, Father, I think it's you who doesn't fully understand what it is you're afraid of."

Azai made an angry noise in his throat. "So now you're wiser and more knowledgeable than Father, are you?"

"I didn't say that." Zev frowned at him. "But none of us know everything. Father is wise enough to know that."

"I am," the older man acknowledged. He rested one fist lightly on the decorative top of the nearest chair. "But my judgment isn't affected the way yours is in this instance, Zev."

"No, it's affected in other ways," Zev challenged.

"Enough of this." Azai pushed away from the counter, impatient. "What have you told Marieke, Zev? Did you tell her who we are?"

"No, I didn't." Zev scowled. "You know I didn't."

"How could we know?" Azai challenged. "I don't even know if I believe you."

"Your brother is no liar," said their mother sternly. "I believe him. Marieke clearly didn't understand why we all disapprove so much of her being a singer. If she knew our full history, she would understand."

Zev turned to his mother, frowning. "About that, Mother, you spoke out of turn."

"I believe I was doing her a kindness." Narelle shrugged. "Pretending things are different from how they are won't help anyone."

"I'm not pretending anything," Zev said, beginning to feel agitated. Part of him wanted to make clear to his family just how real were his feelings for Marieke, but it would only make them angrier. Besides which it was none of their business.

"Then why did you bring her here?" Azai demanded.

"Because she needed help, and we were close by!" Zev kept his voice from becoming a shout with difficulty. None of them wanted Marieke to overhear this conversion from her room. "This is my home, too, Azai. We'd barely escaped in one piece, we were both exhausted, and we were quite possibly still in danger. Where should I have taken her?"

"Let her go to her own people for help," Azai insisted. "It's too dangerous to keep dragging us into it."

"What are you suggesting, Azai?" Zev demanded. "That I just left her by the side of the road, like you wanted to the first time we met her? Even though this time she could barely walk from the energy she'd spent saving my life as well as hers?"

Azai just shrugged, obviously having no real answer.

"Let me make one thing very clear." Zev's voice quavered slightly with tension. "I haven't ever forgotten my loyalty to this family, and I never will. That loyalty made me walk away from Marieke before, even though I hated myself for doing it. But that was when she was safe and in her own country. No loyalty will make me turn my back on her and desert her when she's alone, injured, and in our land. Where would my honor be?"

"Relax, Zev, no one is actually saying you should have abandoned her by the highway," his father said. "But you have to agree that the whole situation is regrettable."

"I don't have to agree anything." Zev could hear the surly note in his voice.

"Let's stop arguing about things that are already done," his mother interjected. "Why don't you tell us what happened while you were gone? You made it into Sundering Canyon, I take it?"

Zev deflated, flopping back in his chair in a gesture of defeat. "Yes," he said. "We did."

"Marieke said things got strange," his mother prompted .

Zev nodded slowly, still struggling to believe all they'd seen. "That's an understatement. And the monarchists were the least of it."

He told them everything he and Marieke had experienced, from the elves to Svetlana's attempt to hold them captive, to their impossible escape up the cliff face. He had the satisfaction of seeing the anger fade from even Azai's eyes, all three of his listeners too astonished by the tale to maintain disapproval.

"The worst of it is," he finished, shoving a slice of apple into his mouth, "they destroyed my best sword."

"I wonder what exactly happened with the magic of the canyon," his father mused. "It troubles me that these elves seemed to take an interest in you as well as Marieke."

"Hold on," protested Azai. "Back up. I'm still caught on the fact that elves are real! They were really like the miniature men from the fables?"

"They were miniature," Zev said. "But they weren't much like the stories otherwise. Except for the bargaining thing. That seemed to be true." He studied his father's face. "You truly didn't know they were real?"

"Of course not," his father said, looking slightly hurt. "Everything I know, I've told you."

"But how could we have such a big hole in our knowledge of the past?" Zev pressed.

His father shrugged. "Our ancestor was only a child when he escaped from the slaughter at Port Taran. And he only survived because his mother gave him to his nursemaid just before she was killed, and the nursemaid got him to safety. He had nothing but the clothes on his back and the documents the queen slid into his tunic."

"The ancestry records, I know." Zev nodded absently. He'd seen those very documents, hidden in their library room .

"Precisely," his father continued. "They were obviously intending to take them when they fled to the continent of Providore, so they could prove their claim to the stolen throne. They would hardly have filled their pockets with documents detailing every aspect of daily life in Aeltas. Most of what we know about life back then was passed down orally, from the nursemaid to the prince, from him to his own children, and so forth. If the elves disappeared after the coup, it's not hard to believe that over time their existence could have become a bedtime story in our family just like it did for everyone else."

"So what you're saying is that we can't fully trust our own version of history any more than we can trust the one taught by the Council of Singers," Zev challenged.

"Of course I'm not saying that." His father sounded shocked. "We have documents detailing our lineage all the way back to the first king of Aeltas, Zevadiah. We know who we are. And the prince wrote his own record of what happened the day of the coup, based on his own memories and on the account of the nursemaid, who was present. Do you really doubt these documents?"

"No," Zev assured him quickly. "I don't doubt either of those things. My point is just that all the other details may have been warped in the telling. Influenced by our own prejudices."

"And you talk about loyalty to our family," Azai said, disgusted. "You're basically siding with the singers now."

"I'm not," said Zev angrily. "But if we're not open to learning that we might have been wrong about things, we're no better than they are. And in fact we're much worse than Marieke. I've seen how much it's cost her to accept that what she thought she knew was actually wrong. But she hasn't shied away from it, or tried to make excuses."

"You think very highly of her, don't you? "

His mother's voice was quiet, the softness of the question cutting through the tense atmosphere more effectively than a raised voice would have done. Zev turned to her.

"I do. She's repeatedly shown me the strength of her character. I wish you could see what I see."

"You care deeply for her. Very deeply." This time it wasn't a question, and Zev didn't offer an answer. His mother sighed. "I wish I could see a way forward, Zev, but I can't. Your heart might be changing, but nothing else has changed."

"She's right, Zevadiah," his father said firmly.

Zev's mother leaned forward, searching his eyes. "It's obvious she cares for you as well. How much does she care? Enough to make sacrifices for you?"

"What does that mean?" Zev asked uneasily. He didn't like where the conversation was going. He hadn't planned on discussing his or Marieke's feelings, and the room felt suddenly much too hot.

"What if she were willing to denounce her songcraft?" his mother pressed on. "To put it aside and embrace a different way of life?"

Both of her sons made noises of protest, although no doubt for different reasons. But it was Zev's father who spoke.

"It's not enough, Narelle," he said. "Singing is still in her blood. Royal blood and singing blood were never mixed, even before the coup. They were fastidious about it, and with good reason. It would concentrate too much power. There's no way that—"

"Enough," Zev cut him off. "Just stop, both of you. We're not talking about this." Discussing his feelings was bad enough. Talking about mingling his and Marieke's bloodlines was way beyond what he was willing to discuss.

"I was only trying to offer a solution," his mother said .

"That's not a solution." Zev's voice was firm. "You don't understand what you're saying. You may as well suggest asking her to cut off her right hand. Never ever would I dream of asking her to put aside her craft. It's an inextricable part of who she is."

"I agree," said Azai, his tone making it clear that his agreement was nothing for Zev to be excited about. "It's the core of who she is, and it tells me all I need to know about her." His eyes bored into Zev's, his brow lowered. "You would have agreed once, Zev."

Zev shook his head. "Then I would have been wrong, just like you are now, Azai." His gaze encompassed all three of his family members. "We've been wrong about singing. I've seen the beauty of magic. I've felt its power for good."

Azai clenched his fists over the chair in front of him, his eyes furious as he let out a growl. "How can you betray your family like this, Zev? How can you betray your history?"

"Azai." Their father's tone, rarely used, brought both brothers to silence. "Hear him out."

"But Father!" Azai spluttered. "How can you—?"

"Because this is Zev speaking, not a stranger," their father cut him off. "I trust his judgment."

"His judgment is clouded by what he feels for this girl," Azai insisted. "We can all see that!"

"Maybe." His father's calm voice made Azai's bluster seem ridiculous. "But maybe not. I want to hear what he has to say."

"Are you finished speaking of me like I'm not in the room?" Zev asked dryly.

"Yes, for now." His father was unabashed. "So go ahead."

Zev drew a deep breath, keeping his eyes determinedly away from Azai's scowl. He was angry enough with his brother not to care what Azai thought. It was his parents he wanted to convince .

"My perspective may have changed," he said, trying to speak evenly. "But my judgment has never been clearer. I'm not questioning what happened in the past. I'm just questioning the conclusions we've drawn from it regarding all songcraft. What the singers did back then was evil, no question. But the problem was never magic. It was how they chose to use that magic. You all mistrust Marieke just because she's a singer, but she would never use her magic for evil like they did back then."

"So you think we should just forgive and forget, pretend the slaughter never happened?" Azai asked sarcastically.

"Of course not." Zev shook his head. "The country will always be fractured while our way of life is built on lies. The rewriting of history is almost as bad as the initial crime. But that doesn't mean all singers are complicit. Marieke had no idea of the truth—I doubt the rest of the singers who go through the academy know either. She shouldn't be held accountable for lies told by others—ever since she realized she was lied to, she's been determined to uncover the truth, even though she has nothing to gain from that and everything to lose."

His eyes passed between his parents' faces, willing them to see the truth of his words. "It feels wrong to not care about what's happening to Oleand. Even if it is a result of what was done to their monarchs, how does it benefit anyone for the land to remain cursed?"

"But Oleand has nothing to do with us," his father said.

"It has something to do with Marieke," Zev replied simply. "And that's enough for me to care. I know it's probably not enough for you to care, and I don't blame you. But we're lying to ourselves if we think we can just cut ourselves off from Oleand and be unaffected by its fate. Do you really think there will be no impact on Aeltas if Oleand becomes so barren it can no longer sustain its inhabitants? "

His father didn't look happy, but he didn't contradict Zev's point.

"And it's not just the deteriorating land," Zev pushed on. "There are more disasters happening. Floods and fires and storms. Our neighbor is under attack, and it could very well have something to do with the secret we've been keeping. I want to help make it right."

"How could disasters in Oleand have anything to do with the secret of our ancestry?" Azai protested.

"Not our ancestry," Zev said. "I'm talking about the slaughter of the royals."

"It's the Council of Singers who've been keeping that secret," Azai said. "Both councils."

"We've been keeping it just as surely as they have," Zev said. "We play our part in this mess."

"Our part is to stay in Aeltas," his father said firmly. "Our presence carries a blessing that helps our land to thrive. We're doing right by Aeltas, and that's our duty. We owe nothing to Oleand, and we don't have the power to help it anyway. We have no heartsong there. They killed it when they killed their royal family."

"Maybe so," Zev said. "And I know we can't change the past, or bring the Oleandan monarchs back. But the people of Oleand don't deserve to suffer any more than the people of Aeltas do. It's pure luck for the Aeltans of today that our ancestor escaped."

"I don't understand," his mother cut in. "Are you saying you think that the absence of the Oleandan monarchs is contributing to these disasters? Because how can that be? Their monarchs were killed centuries ago."

"I don't have that answer," said Zev. "And I don't think I have the understanding of magic to figure it out. But others do, and maybe if we were honest about the past, it would be possible to find a solution to whatever is happening. Marieke was smart enough to make a connection between Oleand's sufferings and the true history as soon as she found out she'd been lied to. I want to help her find out the truth of whoever or whatever is behind the disasters. She's convinced they're connected to the land's deterioration, and I think she's right."

"I wish her every success in finding the problem and solving it," his mother said simply. "I just don't want to give my firstborn son to the cause."

Zev felt his face soften a little as he saw the genuine fear behind his mother's calm expression.

"You're not going to lose me, Mother. I'm pretty tough, and I have every intention of surviving whatever misadventure I embark on." He searched her eyes. "And you're not in danger of losing me in any other way, either. Not unless you cut me off."

"That we would never do," his father assured him. "But I feel as uneasy about all this as your mother does." He exchanged a look with his wife. "There's a great deal to think about. We can talk more tomorrow."

With a nod, Zev's mother rose. The pair of them bid their sons goodnight and made their way from the room. Zev doubted they would be sleeping any time soon. They were just moving to another room so they could switch from talking to him to talking about him.

He stared at the empty doorway for a long moment after they left, trying to muster the energy to deal with the most difficult member of the family. But his brother couldn't be avoided forever. Zev turned slowly back to see that Azai hadn't moved. His arms were still crossed, and his eyes bored into Zev's. Zev realized all at once that while his brother's words might be aggressive, his posture was defensive. He was afraid, afraid of what Marieke's presence might do to their family. Maybe even afraid of losing his brother .

"Azai…" Zev started, trying to force his voice not to be combative.

But Azai was having none of it.

"You didn't even ask about things here," he said. "You left a mess behind, and you don't even care."

Zev frowned. "What do you mean?"

"I mean that we're under scrutiny from the council. Someone came by here not long after you left for your little rendezvous with your sweetheart."

Annoyance flickered in Zev, but he pushed it aside, knowing he wouldn't get answers from his brother if he started a fight. "Who came by here?"

"Someone from the Council of Singers. Wanting to know more about us, and more about our property. Apparently," Azai's voice was like acid, "it was a very intentional decision for the survey to focus on our area first. And they were mystified and intrigued that of all the properties in the region, ours was the only one it failed to gather information about."

Zev let out a breath. "That's unlucky."

"Luck had nothing to do with it!" Azai protested. "It was your actions, Zev, yours and that girl's. If you'd left well enough alone, we wouldn't be at more risk of exposure than we have been in two centuries."

"Azai," said Zev impatiently. "You're quick to complain, but you don't have any actual solutions to—"

"Here's a solution," said Azai darkly. He pushed himself up from the counter. "You should have left her dangling from that cliff."

Anger flared in Zev, then abated as Azai swept past him and out of the room. He didn't try to stop his brother, either to placate or to fight with him. What was the point?

Putting his elbows on the table, he rested his face in his hands, staring unseeingly at the barely touched food his mother had prepared for her family. A family that had once been happy and uncomplicated.

Uncomplicated.

It was a word that seemed to no longer apply to any part of Zev's life.