Chapter Fourteen

E ron waited in his cell. Would Cap appear tonight, bringing food? The moldy bread the guards brought tasted awful, but Eron ate anyway. He'd need his strength. What he wouldn't give for a bowl of rabbit stew.

Shuffling sounded outside his doorway. A ball of mage light appeared, painting the old mage's beard a soft blue.

Zetuna's tits! Or should Eron still swear by the Goddess of Commoners? He took a few even breaths to calm his racing heart. There are no good mages, he heard in Kene's voice.

Keep practicing your magic. Had Kene included herself in that declaration?

"Good evening. I am Miisov, chief mage of King Bain." Miisov's white hair, beard, and eyebrows, plus his rather largish nose, bore no likeness to Kene's fairness. "Rest assured, I am shielding this conversation. You may speak freely. Not even the rats will hear."

Good, because Eron had been cursing the ever-present rodents all day, and they likely needed a rest. "Pleasant evening," Eron responded automatically before remembering this man could be here to kill him. "As I understand matters, I'm here at your bidding. Why?"

Miisov lifted his brows, a nearly magical feat based on their size. "Did you hear nothing while you eavesdropped at Baroness Kennestone's estate?"

So much for being sneaky. "Only that Kene referred to you as Father." Eron would take the rest of his illicitly gleaned knowledge to his grave. Feigning ignorance usually got people to speak freely, a handy tool. "Is it true Kene knew Prince Dafron?"

Miisov inclined his head. "Yes, I suppose I am Kene's father, though she'd be quick to add ‘in name only.' About Prince Dafron. It is an interesting story. You see, when Kene lived here, she and your brother grew quite fond of each other. So fond that Dafron actually vowed to abdicate so they could be together."

Why had Kene never mentioned the closeness in all the time Eron had been her ward? "So, you sent Kene away. Why don't I know this?"

"You were around five summers at the time. Hardly your brother's confidante. While I considered King Lothan a kind man and admirable king, he had greater plans for his heir than a mage's daughter. Also, if my daughter married the crown prince, rumors would say I bewitched him since the nobility considered her station far below his. Then there was the whole highwayman debacle."

"Highwayman debacle?" Wow. How eloquent. And to think Kene paid good money for a tutor to teach Eron the art of conversation—in several languages.

"My great-grandfather was the first Lord Night, my grandmother the second, my father the third, and my uncle the fourth. I was the fifth, and my uncle and I taught my daughter to be the sixth, though usually it wasn't Hisar citizens in need of help. By that time, I'd put my magical skills to use. I couldn't have anyone looking too closely at my family."

Eron took a moment to visualize a younger version of Kene with an older version of himself—light and dark. She and Dafron would have been beautiful together—and a force to be reckoned with. "Anyone who truly knew her wouldn't believe she'd had to bewitch anyone. I never understood why suitors weren't lined up at her door. She is a noblewoman, after all, with an immense fortune. Wait. How did she go from highwayman's daughter to noblewoman?"

"I won the heart of a baron's daughter in my lawless younger days, who'd been betrothed to another. Her father threatened to kill our child for standing in the way of his ambitions. I took Elzabai with me and accepted the position of King's mage at Hisar Castle." Miisov let out a world-weary sigh. "When I was forced to send my daughter away, I found out her mother had inherited and never married. Elzabai returned to her as heir. Dillane custom allows women to inherit."

Women deserved equal rights, regardless of whether they had brothers. No man, no matter how great, could compare to Kene. "You taught her to hunt?"

"Ah, yes." Miisov rubbed his hands together. "Her hunting. She honed her skills with me and that wayward uncle no one talked about in polite society. Never in Hisar, though. I held your father in high regard. My willful child has some magical talent, as I'm sure you know. Never wanted to follow in my footsteps as a mage, though, only in highway robbery."

The ball of light rose and fell as though carried on a gentle breeze. Kene sometimes created mage light, though she never talked of having much magic. Closer, mage, closer, Eron willed Miisov.

Miisov stepped closer to the bars.

Eron struck lightning fast, grabbed the collar of Miisov's robe, and yanked, pulling the mage into the bars. "You brought me here to murder my sister? Her sons? I will not touch them. If you don't want me to do everything in my power to save them, you'd best kill me now, old man."

Miisov answered calmly. "I have no intention of you murdering Lessa or her sons. That's not why you're here."

Eron relaxed his grip but didn't let go. "Then why am I here?"

"Remember what I told you in the throne room? That someone of King Lothan's line will replace King Bain?"

"I remember." It was the only dialogue Miisov had uttered during the exchange. However, he'd told Kene that Eron's place was on the throne.

"That someone is you. The common folk are counting on you, though they do not know you still exist. They need Bain's foot removed from their throats in order to feed their families rather than have Bain take more and more from them to entertain his friends and provide lavish gifts for his mistresses. The people deserve a fair king."

Something icy cold formed in the pit of Eron's stomach. "I'm no king."

"Not yet, but you will be."

"Why bring me in as a highwayman?"

"I persuaded Bain that you are from Estia, which works well with your accent. As he's been seeking a war with Estia, having an Estian kill Queen Lessa accomplishes two of his goals. A servant or soldier couldn't get near enough to her or Bain for what is needed. It took some… convincing … to get him to agree."

"Convincing like a magical knock-out fog?" Eron might never forgive Miisov for that.

"Similar, though less theatrical."

"How am I supposed to overthrow Bain? Who I'd gladly kill, by the way, on general principle."

"Four neighboring monarchies will provide soldiers and back the legitimate heir of King Lothan to get avaricious Bain off their borders. Not to mention the loyal guards who will serve you until their dying breath."

"Where are these loyal guards?" Eron could sure use their help to escape this cell.

"They will be here when you have need of them. The time is not yet right." Miisov spoke so calmly, like he hadn't a care. Easy for him. He wasn't locked in a cell, wondering what came next.

Eron's patience neared an end. "This makes no sense. I left here at ten and don't have all my memories. I barely remember being King Lothan's son, and only recently recalled that information. I'm not the one you should pin your hopes on."

"You're exactly the one I need to pin my hopes on. You must defeat the king, defeat Duke Crau, and, most of all, protect Lessa and her boys. No one else can save them." How long had they known each other? Already, Miisov knew how to motivate Eron.

"Can I ask about Lessa? I don't remember much about her." What Eron remembered made his heart break for the lost time they hadn't been together. He'd never seen his nephews or even knew of their existence.

"I'll answer if I can."

Eron released Miisov's robes and stepped back. "Is she happy? Does she have a good life?"

Miisov stared off at nothing for a moment. "She has no love for her husband, King Selin of Anilitk, nor he for her, but he's mostly left her alone after she presented him with two heirs. She loves her sons dearly and would die to protect them. I doubt she'd trouble herself overly much if Selin suddenly drowned."

Eron had felt so alone all this time. Now, he discovered that not only did he have a sister, but he might meet her soon. "Does she know I live?" He'd concern himself with his brother-by-marriage later.

"She does not. I'm sorry, but it wasn't prudent to tell her. Nor did I have a way to contact her. Her husband keeps her under constant watch."

"Bain wants to kill her and her sons. Wouldn't Lessa's husband retaliate?"

Miisov let out a long exhale. "No. He'd bury her in state, as is her due. She is queen, and his subjects would have it no other way. He does not know Bain plans to leave him without heirs. There is a certain countess who believes he'll wed her. He won't. There's nothing to be gained by marrying beneath his station. He'll choose a bride who can bring lands, status, or gold. Possibly all three. I wouldn't mourn his loss, either."

Eron's heart fell. He barely remembered his sister, but no one deserved such disregard. "Why don't I have more memories of my time here? It's your doing, right?"

"I helped some. You were young. Sometimes, our minds try to protect us by hiding the truth. Your memories are not truly gone. I believe you've been remembering since arriving in the castle."

"Maybe even before." Eron couldn't say anything for sure at the moment except that he wanted out of this cell where he couldn't do anyone any good.

"Although I cannot openly defy the king, know that you're not alone. Bain has sent me here to cast a spell. You won't be able to leave the premises without my knowledge, but in order for you to have access to your intended victims, you must have the freedom to move about the castle. Crau suggested disguising you as a servant, but that wouldn't do. Instead, you will be a minor noble from Estia."

Eron's eyes widened. That explained the mention of Estia earlier.

"Yes, I realize Kene has taught you their customs and dialect, and Estian nobles visit her home. This means you'll be convincing, as you know the local gossip and notable families from the many who frequent her estate. As before, anyone who intends you harm will not recognize you for who you are."

"What about the ones who recognize me?" Eron asked in guttural Estian.

Miisov answered in the same language. "They will simply think you bear a striking resemblance to someone they know. I am sorry. Spells require a lot of energy. As a young man, I could've hidden you from all eyes. After the battle that claimed your father, I spent all the energy I had at the time to ensure your safety and plan for your return."

Eron switched back to the language common to the nobility of many countries. "How much energy?"

Miisov switched as well. "How old would you say that I am?"

Eron learned long ago not to comment on ages. Some people were extremely sensitive to mentions of the passage of time. "I'd rather not say."

Miisov shrugged his narrow shoulders. "Many believe me to be nearing my one-hundredth summer, which isn't as unusual for a mage as for a non-magical human."

"How old are you, then?"

"I was a young man at Kene's birth nearly forty summers ago. I've seen seventy summers."

"What?" The facial lines, the shuffling gait—Eron would have guessed one hundred, too.

One side of Miisov's mouth quirked upward in a bittersweet smile. "That's the price I paid then and would gladly pay again now."

"So, you're still using your magic. Won't that cost you?"

"Kind of you to worry about me. You always were a thoughtful child. You've grown into a fine man. Your parents are proud of you."

"What do you mean are ? They're both—"

"For reasons I cannot go into, I can sometimes get impressions from the dearly departed. Your father's spirit hovers between this world and the next. Until this matter of succession is resolved to his satisfaction and his family avenged, he cannot truly rejoin your mother, who lingers just beyond the veil, awaiting his arrival."

Was Eron's father still here? Able to see him? Hear him? How many times throughout his life he'd wished for loving parents. Kene said his parents loved him very much but wouldn't say more. "I wish I could tell my parents how much I loved them, but I don't remember."

"Not yet, but you will. And they already know. Now come. I'll take you to my workshop, cast a spell, and turn you into a nobleman. Or rather, convince Bain that I have. No one comes more noble than you." Miisov winked and turned away from the bars. "Guards!"