Stormcaster (Shattered Realms #3)(48)

“Prince Adrian” hit Ash’s ear wrong. It had been a long time since anyone had called him that. Besides, he’d never really thought of himself as a prince—just the son of a queen, and the brother of the heir to the throne. He’d used so many names since he left home that none of them seemed quite right.

Byrne turned to the queen. “I’ll give the two of you some privacy. Is there anything else you need?”

In a way, Adrian dreaded the idea of privacy, terrified as he was of a heart-to-heart. He had no defense to offer, no excuse for what he’d done, and now he was getting ready to lie about it again.

“What about Lyss?” he said, asking what seemed an obvious question. “She should be here. I need to apologize to her. I made her a promise, and I’ve really let her down.”

“Lyss is at Chalk Cliffs,” his mother said, and bit her lip. She turned back to Byrne. “Tell the others that we’ll have a small reception after the council meeting tomorrow.”

Byrne cocked his head. “Will there be a council meeting tomorrow? I thought all meetings were cancelled this week.”

“That was before I began to believe in miracles again,” the queen said. “I’m sure we’ll have lots to discuss tomorrow.”

After Byrne saluted and left, Ash used flash to rekindle the fire on the hearth, spending considerably more time on it than the task required.

“Is that your father’s amulet?” she said finally, to his back.

Ash swung around to face her, his cheeks burning. “You’ve probably been wondering what happened to it. Da gave it to me that day in Ragmarket. I’ll understand if you want it back.”

The queen shook her head. “If he gave it to you, keep it. It suits you.” She motioned to two chairs under the window. “That will do, Adrian. Let’s sit.”

Ash sat. His mother sat across from him. He had too much to say, and no clue as to how to begin. He’d hoped she might begin spitting out questions, but she just kept looking at him as if memorizing every new detail.

Finally, she breathed deeply and said, “You smell of the road—sweat and horses and leather, meadowsweet and pine.” She put up a hand when he tried to apologize. “No. I like it. My father was a clan trader, and he always came home smelling like faraway places. It reminds me of something your father said once.” She closed her eyes, remembering. “He said, ‘I want to breathe you in for the rest of my life.’”

Ash swallowed hard, guilt rising in him. “Mother, I—”

“We are wolves, Adrian. For us, scent is the seat of memory. It is how wolves recognize family, friends, and enemies.” She paused. “I miss the road. Wolves run free. Do you know that I have not been out of the queendom since the war began?” She smiled wistfully. “My children have gone much farther afield.”

Right, Ash thought. Your daughter Hanalea went into the borderlands, and was murdered. Your son went south, and became a murderer. And Lyss—

“Speaking of traveling, what’s Lyss doing in Chalk Cliffs?” The Chalk Cliffs he remembered was little more than a gritty port with a military barracks, bars and clicket-houses, and a stone keep. What business would his sister have in such a place?

That question must have shown on his face, because his mother said, “Alyssa has changed since you last saw her. And I’m afraid that she’s angry with me right now.”

Ash was mystified. “Angry? I can understand if she’s angry with me, but why would she—?”

“Soon after you . . . disappeared . . . I found out you were alive, and I didn’t tell her.”

“So you did know,” he said. “Lila told me that you did.”

His mother nodded. “I knew. I decided—I decided that after Hanalea’s and Han’s murders, maybe you were safer there, under an assumed name, than here at court. I didn’t tell Alyssa, though.”

She fingered the wolf ring that always hung from a chain around her neck. “We’d already had your funeral, and she was just beginning to recover from that. I thought it was too dangerous a secret to tell an eleven-year-old. Knowing your sister, she would have insisted on going to Oden’s Ford and bringing you back. If agents from Arden had found out where you were, they would have murdered you.”

“Well,” he said. “They tried.”

“As I found out, a few days ago, when the team I sent to Oden’s Ford to fetch you home returned with the news of the attack on your dormitory and your apparent death.” Tears welled up, and spilled over once again. “I blamed myself.”

“I’m the one who ran away,” Ash said. It hadn’t occurred to him that his mother would hear about the attack, because, for all intents and purposes, he was already dead. He hadn’t known that Taliesin had ratted him out.

“Why did you decide to bring me home now, after four years?”

“There was an assassination attempt on your sister.”

That punch to the gut nearly folded him in two. “Wait—what? The bastards went after Lyss? They’re targeting children now? Is she . . . what did she—”

His mother raised an eyebrow. “She’s not a child. She’s just two years younger than you, and she’s grown up fast,” she said. “That’s what happens when you go away. You think time stops at home while you grow and change.” She paused, in case he wanted to argue, but he didn’t.