The Queen's Rising (Untitled Trilogy #1)(88)

“Did you tell him that you hail from his House?” Jourdain asked, his voice hollow.

“No, no, I told him nothing,” I stammered, and that’s when I realized it. How on earth would Allenach know to claim me?

This cannot be. . . .

Jourdain nodded, reading my painful trail of thoughts. “He is your father. How else would he know?”

“No, no,” I whispered, my throat closing. “It cannot be him.”

But even as I denied it, the threads of my life began to pull together. Why would my grandfather be so adamant to hide me? To keep my father’s name from me? Because my father was a powerful, dangerous lord of Maevana.

But perhaps, more than anything . . . how did Allenach know who I was?

I stared at Jourdain. Jourdain stared at me.

“Do you want to know why I hate Brendan Allenach?” he whispered. “Because Brendan Allenach was the lord to betray us twenty-five years ago. Brendan Allenach was the one who plunged his sword into my wife. He stole her from me. And now he will steal you from me as well.”

Jourdain rose. I remained on the floor, sitting on the backs of my heels. I listened to him retreat to his bedchamber, slam and lock the door.

I was still holding the letter. I shredded it, let it fall around me as snow. And then I stood.

My gaze strayed to Luc. He was staring at the mess on the floor, but he lifted his eyes to mine when I approached him.

“I am going to prove that this is a lie,” I said, my heart pounding. “I will ride with d’Aramitz to Mistwood.”

“Amadine,” Luc whispered, cradling my face. He wanted to say more to me, but the words turned to dust between us. He gently kissed my forehead in farewell.

I hardly felt the ground beneath me as I left that house, as I stepped out into the afternoon rain. There was the coach that Allenach had promised, waiting to cart me back to Damhan. I walked to it, my hair and my dress drenched by the time I sat on the cushioned bench.

As the rain pounded the roof and the coach bumped along the road, I began to think of what I should say to him.

Lord Allenach believed that I was his illegitimate daughter.

I did not believe such, yet the lingering doubt was worse than the blade Rian had pierced me with. Most likely, the lord was taunting his old enemy and using me to do it. So I would walk into his hall tonight and let him believe that I was pleased with his claim on me. And when I asked for proof, which he would be powerless to give, I would deny his claim.

It took me ten miles, but by the time I arrived to Damhan’s courtyard, I was ready to face him.

I stepped out into the rain, lightning flickering overhead, splitting the night sky in two. As am I, I thought, walking into the castle corridor. I am Brienna, two in one.

I followed the music, Merei’s music, to the light and warmth of the hall. The Valenians were gathered at their tables for dinner. The fire was roaring, the heraldic stags gleaming from their carved places in the walls. And so I walked the aisle of the great hall, my dress dragging along the glazed tiles, leaving a trail of rain behind me.

I heard the men go quiet, the laughter ease as the Valenians noticed my entrance. I heard the music painfully end, Merei’s strings clang as her bow jerked. I felt Cartier’s gaze, like sunlight, but I did not respond. I felt all of them watching me, but my eyes were only for the lord who sat on the dais.

Allenach noticed me the moment I had entered. He had been waiting for me; he watched me approach him, setting his chalice down, the ruby on his forefinger glittering.

I walked all the way to the dais stairs, and there I came to rest, standing directly before him. I opened my palms, felt the rain drip from my hair.

“Hello, Father,” I said to him, my voice soaring like a bird up to the highest rafters.

Brendan Allenach smiled. “Welcome home, Daughter.”





TWENTY-EIGHT


A DIVIDED HEART



“Rian? Give my daughter her rightful seat.”

I watched Rian jerk, astounded by his father’s request. I watched Rian’s face contort in rage, rage toward me, for his greatest fear had just been cloaked in flesh and blood.

The lost daughter had come to take back her inheritance.

I let him rise, just to see if he would do it. And then I lifted my hand and said, “Rian may keep his seat, for now. I would like to talk privately with you, Father.”

Allenach’s eyes—a pale shade of blue, like deceptive ice on a pond—flickered with curiosity. But he must have been expecting I would say such, because he stood without qualm, extended his right hand to me.

I ascended the dais, walked around the table, and set my fingers in his. He escorted me from the hall, up the stairs, down a corridor I had not ventured yet. He took me to his private wing, a vast connection of chambers that were lavishly furnished.

The first chamber was something I would call a parlor, a place to sit with guests and close friends. There was a large hearth, alight with a roaring fire, and several chairs overlaid with sheepskin. On one wall was a grand tapestry of a white stag, leaping with arrows lodged in his chest, and so many mounted animal heads that I felt as if they were all watching me, the firelight licking their glassy eyes.

“Sit, daughter, and tell me what I can get you to drink,” Allenach said, dropping my fingers so he could walk to a bureau that sparkled with bottles of wine, ceramic pitchers of ale, and a family of golden chalices.