The Shadow Throne (The Ascendance Trilogy, #3)(68)

Roden mumbled in agreement, then turned his attention to Imogen. “If they do take us, then without Jaron, they’ll have no reason to keep you here. So once you’re free, will you do me a favor?”

“Of course.”

“I have only the one name for my gravestone, like a servant or an orphan would. But I’m more than that now, and I don’t want to be remembered only as Roden.”

“You may have any name you wish,” I offered. “Including that of my own house.”

Roden gave his thanks, but he already seemed to have another name in mind. He said, “When I was a baby, an old Avenian woman was my caretaker. But it was a brutal winter and she became sick. Before she died, she left me with a midwife and told her my mother had been named Havanila. She mentioned no other family, and the midwife eventually gave me to an orphanage. I’d like to use my mother’s name on my gravestone, Roden of the house of Havanila.”

Havanila. The name echoed in my ears.

“Why have you never told me this story?” I breathed out the words, barely able to use my voice.

He shrugged as if none of that mattered. “There was nothing to tell. Obviously my parents were dead, which is how I came into that old woman’s care. Why?”

I closed my eyes and shook my head. Roden’s mother had a name I’d never heard anywhere before, except from one other man. Roden was Harlowe’s younger son, the infant who had been taken in an attempt to extract a ransom from Harlowe. But before the exchange could be made, the Avenian woman who had taken him died. Unaware of his noble birth, the midwife sent Roden to an orphanage, where he remained until Conner brought him to Farthenwood. Roden was chosen because he looked a little like me, and I’d often been told that I looked somewhat like Harlowe’s other son and Roden’s brother, Mathis.

Except they were family, and I was not.

Roden had a father. Who would be in attendance tomorrow as Roden and I were hanged at the gallows. Roden deserved to know that, to look Harlowe directly in the eyes for a final farewell.

And yet I couldn’t force the words out. From the moment of our meeting, Harlowe had been as a father to me. Once Harlowe knew his son not only lived, but had been so close for all these weeks, his heart would naturally leave me and go to Roden. It may have been greedy on my part — I knew that it was — and yet I felt desperate for any sort of family. I did not want to give Roden this gift. Not yet anyway. I wanted a father.

With that, I scowled inwardly, berating myself for my unforgivable selfishness. I already had a father. Not alive, but I had his name and history, and memories I could hold on to. Some of them were better than others, but the failures were my fault as much as his. Once again, I recalled the image of having stood before him in the great hall as he accused me of being a thief. I should have explained then why I had taken the coins, and made him understand me. Or better yet, I should have tried to understand him. If I had, I knew now that my father would have helped that widow.

Whether we understood or agreed with each other, I had now come through enough war to accept that even if he and I would make different choices, he did have reasons for the choices he made. And wherever in the afterlife he wandered, I believed that my father was watching me, and knew I had my own reasons too.

I had to tell Roden.

And I started to say the words, because I knew he needed to be told. But I wondered if it would be cruel to give Roden the knowledge of his father before I knew whether we would survive. Perhaps it would only add to his pain as the noose was tightened around his neck, knowing he had come so close to the one thing he most desired.

“You do have a plan, right?”

Roden had continued in conversation with Imogen, though I had drifted into my own thoughts. I turned to him. “What?”

Roden rolled his eyes. “A plan for us to escape.”

“Oh.” I shrugged. “Not really.”

His jaw fell open as I spoke, which I thought was rather bold. He might not have spent much time in chains and dungeons recently, but I certainly had. And Farthenwood was now filled with soldiers who’d consider it a personal honor to kill any of us in an escape attempt. Working through those challenges wasn’t exactly as easy as, say, planning an evening menu. For now, my entire plan came down to four small words: try not to die.

“Not really?” Roden asked. “Jaron, night is passing quickly. In only a few short hours, they’ll come for us. You must have something.”

I closed my eyes, and then opened them to look at Imogen. “When Roden and I are taken away, we’ll make a big fuss with the guards. Enough that any vigils nearby will have to come and get control of us. That will be your chance to escape. You know where to go until this is over, correct?”

“The hidden passages.” She had been a servant here and probably knew the secret entrances as well as anyone could.

“Conner obviously knows about them too, but I doubt anyone will consider it worth the effort to look for you, even if they remember you’re missing. Just stay in there, hidden as well as you can until you know it’s safe to come out.”

Roden wasn’t convinced. “How big of a fuss will this require?”

I grinned. “Catastrophic levels of bad behavior. Trust me, it’ll be fun.”

“You have a sick idea of fun.” Roden’s cool expression seemed less than enthusiastic. “When we do this, will they hurt us?”