State of Sorrow (Untitled #1)(68)

“No,” Irris said instantly. “What? No. No, it’s him and Vespus in this together, we know that.”

“Do we?” Luvian said, dragging a hand through his hair, answering before Sorrow could. “I have to confess, it’s crossed my mind before now, too. What if he believes he is the lost child? What if he believes what Vespus has told him, because he truly lived that life he told you about?”

“Think about it,” Sorrow said to Irris, who was shaking her head. “All the times he’s defended me, the times he’s saved me. Last night he told me to run while he held them off. And he’s always so obnoxiously nice…”

“It would make sense,” Luvian said, leaning across the table. “More sense to raise a child into a story than to get an actor to learn a script later. If he’d only joined Vespus in the last two years, there would be Rhannish people who would know him. Parents, friends, neighbours even. It would be too risky.”

“So what?” Irris’s expression was thoughtful as she worked through their case. “He was stolen as a child, and given to this Beliss woman to raise, waiting for the right moment to bring him back? You said yourself, Vespus wanted the war to continue for his land, and then he tried to petition your father. Oh – what if he took advantage of Mael’s fall and created a backup plan? A boy he could hide in Rhylla in case he needed him?”

Luvian nodded. “He’d be too young to remember where he really came from, and enough time has passed to make him unrecognizable to his real parents here. His appearance could have been altered to give him the birthmark – he could have been tattooed, or perhaps someone with a cosmetic ability added it?”

“Abilities can only manipulate things that already exist,” Sorrow reminded him. “Ras could only get rid of pain that existed at that moment. Vespus can only work with plants if he has plant material to hand.”

“Maybe Vespus found a kid with a mole on his neck?” Luvian suggested. “That would be something that existed. He could have had someone manipulate that.”

Irris looked at Sorrow, who shrugged. It was the most likely explanation for it, barring the tiny possibility the birthmark was real…

“So what do we do?” Irris said. “Because whether he knows it or not, he’s still almost definitely an imposter.”

“I’m already working on it,” Luvian said. “I sent for the reports of every child that went missing, or is thought to have died, but no body recovered, during the three years before, and three years after, your brother was lost. That’s what was in the package that arrived last week. I’ve been going through them. We’ll also need to take advantage of our time in Rhylla to see what we can find there. Ideally, we find Beliss, though I expect Vespus will have hidden her away. But there are other avenues to explore. I have a plan.” Luvian reached for the coffee pot again. “So eat up. It’s going to be a long day.”





Unmasking

The plan, Luvian informed her as he rushed her to finish her breakfast, was to leave for Rhylla within the hour. They’d take a carriage to the bridge, and on the other side a Rhyllian carriage would collect them, to bring them to the capital city. But on the way they would stop overnight in an inn.

“Where is the inn?” Sorrow asked.

“Ah.” For the first time since he’d entered the room, a spark lit Luvian’s eyes. “We’re staying overnight in a place called Ceridog. It’s a small village, tiny school, a clay mine, the inn. Oh, but the clay mine is … unusual. It’s what they call a Rainbow Clay Mine, very rare. In fact, it’s the only one in Rhylla.” He paused, reaching forward for a pear from the bowl on the table. “Ceridog is a very popular place for artists to live and work.”

Sorrow understood then. “The artist who painted Mael’s portraits is Rhyllian. You found him?”

“No.” He looked momentarily chagrined. “But, seeing as we’re passing that way – and it’s such a hub for artists – who are we to turn down the chance to visit? If we happen to find the artist, and therefore discover who commissioned the portraits, and, if that person happens to be Lord Vespus, well … that would be a bonus.” He was sounding more and more like himself each moment, his expression brightening. “Obviously the primary reason for going is because I myself am an art lover; everyone knows it.”

And despite herself, and everything that had happened the night before, Sorrow found herself smiling at him.

Luvian took a bite of his pear with a satisfied crunch.


The journey to the bridge was uneventful, though Sorrow’s heart had hammered the whole way, expecting at any moment for more quickfire to be thrown, or the carriage to be ambushed. She was almost grateful for Dain’s silent, hulking presence beside her. When she saw the bridge on the horizon, the white stone blinding in the morning sun, she relaxed. They’d be over the border soon.

It was too easy. As the carriage drew to a halt, she looked out of the window to see two of the Decorum Ward scrubbing at something on the ancient, mythical bridge.

Luvian’s face tightened.

“What is that?” She turned to Luvian. But then she saw it.

Sons of Rhannon. In tall, red letters like blood. Like the tunic she’d worn the night before.

Luvian was out of the carriage at once, Sorrow following a split second later, with Dain hopping down from her seat beside the driver to join them.