Chapter 8
ay’s the one who goes to let William in.
It’s better than letting him run off into the High Hold with all hisK questions festering.
Meanwhile, Jonas attempts to jam some of the larger shards of glass back into the window like a jagged puzzle, packing the gaps with whatever fabric and cushions he can.
We have six other reception rooms in this house, not including the study and the library, and moving to one of those would be the easiest thing for us to do. But if Jonas wants to slice his hand open with a foolish endeavour, then who am I to stop him? He probably wants to feel useful, which he is assuredly not.
As William enters the sitting room and stands only feet away from me, I struggle to know what to say to this fifteen-year-old boy – nearly a man. Up until a day ago, William was nothing more than Artur’s ward, and now he is my brother.
My brother, whom the king condemned to death. And yet here he stands, his heart still beating, every breath an act of treason, and one I am so, so grateful for.
Even if I can’t find the words to say it.
And I am not alone in my muteness.
Rather than taking a seat, William stands frozen, his gaze flicking between me and Kay as if he’s trying to reconcile two versions of the world at once. His face is pale, his mouth slightly open, breath fogging faintly in the chilled air. He doesn’t look angry. He looks stunned. Lost.
The silence stretches, brittle as the ice I recklessly wield.
‘You were eavesdropping,’ I say finally, just to say something. ‘I was following Jonas,’ he replies, not admitting or denying the eavesdropping accusation. ‘I was worried this morning. I could tell something was up at breakfast because he was acting oddly. And he got home so late last night.’ ‘So you followed him here and listened in on our conversation?’ I finish for him.
He glowers in a manner that is remarkably similar to Kay’s glares. Would I have noticed the similarities if I hadn’t known? There is no way to tell.
Everything in William now seems to scream family at me.
Brother. ‘I’m glad I did.’ He continues to pout. ‘Would you ever have told me who I am if I hadn’t?’ I chew my lip. ‘I don’t know the answer to that,’ I lie.
I do.
I would have kept it from him for his own sake. For all of our sakes. The more people who know, the more danger he’s in. As much as I hate to admit it, Jonas was right about that. But then, there’s not telling people generally, and not telling his sisters. That’s a big fucking difference.
William lets out a short, disbelieving laugh. There is no humour in it at all. Nothing but pain. ‘So this is it, then? My entire life is a lie? And I only learned about it because I was stupid enough to worry about a person I thought actually cared about me?’ ‘William—’ Jonas starts, but William holds up a hand without looking at him. ‘No. Just … don’t. I need them to explain this.’ His eyes flick between Kay and me. ‘Both of you. I need to understand. I don’t understand. I can’t …’ He drags a hand through his hair, pacing a short, restless circle on the rug. ‘My family are in Rowell. That’s what I believed. But you’re telling me that they’re not. That I’m from here. From Wrohelm. And yet, I was hidden here?
It makes no sense.’ ‘I know it’s a lot to take in. I get that. I’m not even close to comprehending it myself. Believe me.’ I edge towards him, but he flinches like he’s a scared animal. Not wanting to spook him any more than he already is, I shift back. ‘We just want to help you, William,’ I say softly. ‘We want to keep you safe. But you need to realise, we’re only just getting our heads
around this ourselves.’ He stares at each of us in turn, nostrils flaring as his breathing quickens.
Then he shakes his head in a rapid flurry. ‘It’s not possible. Florian Kultavaris died. Everyone knows that. The king ordered it.’ His voice falters as understanding dawns slowly, painfully. ‘My whole life,’ he murmurs quietly, as if to himself, ‘Artur told me I was lucky.
Lucky to have been given a future here.’ His laugh is hollow. ‘Turns out I was stolen.’ ‘You weren’t stolen,’ Kay says quickly. ‘You were saved. This is a miracle, William. I promise you.’ He looks at me again, a sheen glistening in his eyes. ‘Do you know what
the worst part is?’ I shake my head. ‘I believed it.’ His voice drops. ‘Every word. I built myself on the lie my father … the lie Artur told me.’ He presses a fist to his chest. ‘If I’m not who I thought I was … then who am I?’ ‘You’re still the same person,’ I hasten to reassure him. ‘You are. It’s just your history that’s changed.’ ‘My heritage,’ he corrects. ‘How can I know who I am if I don’t even know where I come from?’ Finally, he stops his pacing and sinks onto the edge of a chair, elbows braced on his knees, staring at the floor. ‘I have sisters,’ he says again, softer this time, as though testing the shape of the words. ‘I have a family.’ His voice hardens as he finally looks up. ‘And you weren’t going to tell me.’ Guilt ripples through me, so I give him the truth he deserves. ‘William, do you know the story of our mother?’ I ask, taking a seat on another of the chairs, still a distance away from him. ‘Do you know the tale of the Queenkiller?’ His mouth opens as he looks at me warily, but he doesn’t answer. ‘This isn’t a test, I promise,’ I assure him. ‘There’s no right or wrong answer here.’ ‘I know a little,’ he admits. ‘By the time I was old enough to learn of the rumours, they’d died down. But they started up again recently.’ ‘Since I entered the Retterheld,’ I reply.
‘Yes.’ ‘So what have you heard?’ I press.
His lips twist. ‘I heard that she was jealous of the queen. That she thought
she’d find a place beside the king if she let his wife and child die. And that’s why she did it.’ Great Goddess, that’s horrible. My jaw drops and I lean forward to him. ‘She would never … never.’ The thought alone is enough to choke me. ‘She loved our father with her whole heart. She adored him.’ ‘Our father,’ William murmurs. His jaw tightens. ‘I heard that he was an illegitimate bastard.’ ‘Bastard or not, he was a lord,’ I fire back instantly. ‘He was also one of the strongest wind weavers the Morathkians have ever known. And as for this rumour of Mother wanting to leave him for the king … it’s nonsense. Mother loved Father and stayed with him even when he lost his mind to drink because he couldn’t bear the pain of the death of his son – a son he adored.’ William winces at the words and I curse my thoughtlessness.
This is hard. Harder than I could ever have imagined. Not that I ever dared to imagine this moment.
Even when it came to my gifting, I knew that the Goddess could not bring back those whose power had already been returned to Mortidem.
I truly thought Florian was dead and gone.
This last part of the Goddess’s gift is a miracle I never dared to dream of.
Even if Kay and I knowing of William puts him in greater danger.
I draw in a lungful of air, which I exhale with a shudder. ‘I don’t know the details, William,’ I tell him truthfully. ‘All I know is that Florian Kultavaris didn’t die the way we were all led to believe. That the king’s order to put him to death was somehow ignored, and a couple of years later he – you – were returned to Wrohelm and given to Artur Lorathin to raise. The only thing I know for sure is that you are alive, and it is a miracle.’ A surge of love, of pure joy I hadn’t allowed myself to feel in years, floods me, but it falters at the sight of my brother swallowing nervously, his
hands opening and closing. ‘A treasonous miracle.’ Despite his obvious devastation, I’m pleased that he grasps the severity of the situation.
William may not have evaded the king’s order by himself – or even known that such an evasion had happened – but if Korvane found out, he would certainly correct the mistake and see my brother put to death. This time for real. ‘Yes,’ I reply simply. The word tastes like ash in my mouth, but I cannot
soften this for him. He needs to know the danger he faces now. Only then can he guard himself as he must.
William turns to Jonas. ‘Is all this true?’ he asks, eyes wide. ‘Tell me it’s not. Tell me this is some sick joke?’ he pleads.
Jonas lowers his head ever so slightly. ‘It’s no joke. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,’ he says. ‘I should have as soon as I knew, but I couldn’t put you at risk. If you had told anyone – the wrong friend, a mentor you believed you could trust – you would have been killed, William. Please understand that all I wanted was to protect you.’ William’s lips disappear as he presses them together into a tight line. ‘And how long have you known, brother?’ The way he leans on the word causes Jonas to flinch. ‘A … a while.’ William’s jaw clenches as a waft of unnatural air rushes in from behind the open door, hissing as it escapes through the cracks in the broken window.
I shiver as the air rushes against my skin, realising that William has
cyclone powers, just like our father. ‘How long?’ he repeats.
The wind is a quiet threat, and Jonas knows it. He pales. ‘I was fifteen or sixteen. Little more than a kid myself.’ The pain on William’s face is so raw I fear for the rest of our windows. ‘Over half my life …’ His words come out as a near sob. ‘And all that time you called me brother, knowing I was actually theirs!’ Jonas swallows. ‘I did what I thought was right,’ he offers quietly.
With another scoff, William turns back to me. ‘You only found out at the gifting?’ he asks. ‘Even later than that,’ I tell him. ‘Compelled by the Goddess, Jonas told me the truth after the ball the night before last.’ I feel no qualms about throwing Jonas even further under the carriage. After all, if the Goddess hadn’t insisted, then who knows how long it would have been before we learned the truth? If indeed we ever would have. ‘Well, brother.’ William uses the same inflection again, his tone sharp as glass. ‘You may leave us now. I wish to speak to my sisters alone.’ Rather than responding to William, Jonas’s eyes fall to me, as if seeking my approval. But Kay is the one who replies. ‘It is fine, husband,’ she says firmly. ‘You can leave us.’ With one last glance back at William, Jonas exits the room, leaving Kay
and me alone with our brother.
Our brother.
I can hardly think the words without a complex mix of sheer joy, utter disbelief, and unrelenting fear binding me.
From outside comes the constant drumming of rain, yet I don’t even care what colour the clouds are now. All I care about is William.
How will he respond when the truth has had time to sink in? How will he feel about me after all I’ve been through – all I’ve done? Kay certainly hasn’t approved of my actions and makes no bones about showing it.
I also wonder what Kay is thinking. After all, she knows William far better than I do. Maybe she can tell what his carefully blank expression means? Because I can’t read a thing into it.
Not for the first time, I wish I had Benny’s powers to see to the heart of things. Nervousness, anger, fear. I’m sure it’s all there, whirring around within William, even if I’m not able to pick up on it.
Only when my eyes dart to the broken window do my brother’s lips finally part ever so slightly. ‘Sorry about your window,’ he says quietly. ‘I’ll see it fixed.’ My heart balloons within my chest, and something eases. His first words aren’t angry accusations. Not calling us liars. Not refusing to believe us.
Tears prick my eyes. ‘Windows can be replaced,’ I tell him. ‘Brothers, on the other hand …’ My voice wobbles despite my best efforts to keep it steady.
A smile flickers on his lips before disappearing. ‘It makes sense,’ he whispers. ‘Artur was always so vague about my birth parents. About what they did, their magic, why they thought it was best for me to be here with him. When I was seven or eight, I noticed some inconsistencies in what he was saying, but when I challenged him on it, Artur got serious … and honestly? A little scary. He told me I was lucky that he had taken me in, that I was lucky I wasn’t dead, and that if I knew what was good for me, I’d stay quiet. I never dared raise it again, but I made a note of things, like conversations where he introduced me and shared my history with people, memorising the contradictions, trying to see if there was a pattern – a way for me to work out what the actual truth was. I’ll be honest, I thought I was his son. A bastard. That is why I have always referred to Jonas as my brother and Artur as my father. Because I believed they were. But now, knowing what your parents – our parents – did —’
‘They did nothing!’ The anger unexpectedly surges through me. ‘Kyor was a broken child who had lost his mother and lied because he needed somebody to blame. He’ll tell you as much now if you ask him.’ Even as the words spill from me, I doubt them. Will Kyor tell my brother the truth? A knot twists in my gut.
I believed so deeply that Kyor would tell his father the truth, but when the moment came, he didn’t even try. But William … surely he’d tell him what actually happened? But that would mean trusting Kyor with this secret, and there’s no way in hell I can do that. Not when the consequences would be so much worse than just a broken heart.
William offers only the smallest nod in response. I can’t tell if it’s a genuine sign of agreement or simply designed to mollify me. Either way, my bitterness does not fade entirely.
The fact that he ever thought badly of our mother, even for a tiny fraction of time, breaks my heart. She didn’t deserve that.
I try not to find his quietness unnerving. It is so different from either of the outcomes I envisioned after Jonas’s confession. I imagined either angry accusations of lying or overwhelming gratitude at being united.
Instead, he is almost silent, contemplative. ‘This news will take time to adjust to,’ Kay says with an insight that startles me. ‘But that is fine. We have time.’ ‘So what now?’ William asks, interrupting my stream of thoughts. ‘Do I go back to Artur’s? Confront him?’ ‘No. No!’ I reply instantly. ‘He can’t find out that you know,’ I say urgently. ‘Not until we are certain of who took you and concealed you and why. We can’t be rash. Not when there are so many things to consider. And there are other matters at play that Artur will likely be upset about. Jonas and Kay’s marriage for one.’ I let out a sigh.
As overwhelmed with joy as I am to have William alive and with us, it doesn’t change the constant buzz of anxiety that this new development has caused. ‘Do you have friends you can stay with for a couple of days?’ I ask. ‘Friends you can pretend you’re just spending time with after the ball?’ ‘Yes.’ He nods. ‘Good friends. People I trust. And Artur won’t think it
odd as I do it regularly enough.’ ‘Good. That’s good.’ I lean forward and take his hands. Tears throb behind my eyes. This is the first time I have held my brother’s hands in fourteen years. But I swallow the
emotions down. I need him to listen carefully to my next words. ‘No matter how much you trust your friends, you cannot tell them this. Do you understand? Not yet. It is for your safety.’ Rather than responding immediately, his eyes shift ever so slightly. ‘Please, William,’ I beg. ‘It’s not just your life at stake here. It’s ours, too.’ His lips tighten in displeasure, but he drops his chin in a nod. ‘I won’t tell anyone,’ he says finally. Thankfully, I believe him. ‘May I ask you something?’ he queries, looking at me. ‘Of course.’ ‘That magic that you did earlier.’ He drops his voice. ‘I saw the windows coated with ice. Is that from our parents? Something they could do?’ Of all the questions he could have asked, this is probably the one I wanted the least. ‘No,’ I admit, wanting to start the relationship with whatever truths I can offer. ‘I am truly not sure what it is. But I intend to find out.’
