State of Sorrow (Sorrow #1)(86)

I’ll know who he really is, Sorrow thought. I’ll know.

His eyes moved again to her reports. “And then what? What if you find a child in there, right place, right time? What will you do? Go to the parents and tell them you believe their son is alive but thinks he’s the son of the chancellor?”

Sorrow couldn’t understand why he seemed so angry. “Yes, of course. It might help us prove he’s an imposter. If he looks like one of them, or they recognize him…”

“Your father recognized him,” Charon said sharply. “Your father was convinced he was his child. What parent wouldn’t want to believe it? They’ll see what they want to, as Harun did. And you’ll be accused of trying to sabotage his attempts to win the election.”

“I’m doing this for the election. If I can find him—”

“You should be focusing on winning it,” Charon snapped.

They were Luvian’s words too, the same old message, but right now they sounded like an attack. An accusation. Sorrow couldn’t think of a response.

“Perhaps I should go,” Charon said.

Sorrow’s jaw dropped. “You’re leaving?”

“I’m tired, from the journey, and in some pain.” He nodded to his legs. “It’s making me ill-tempered.” He tried for a smile, but Sorrow couldn’t return it.

He snapped the brakes off and turned the chair. “I’ll rest for an hour or two and see you at the Naming this afternoon.”

Sorrow scrambled to stand, to walk him out, but he shook his head.

“No, you stay there. But I’d advise you to give up that foolishness.” He nodded to the abandoned reports. “And I’ll be having a word with Luvian Fen about it too. Focus on your campaign.”

With that he gripped the wheels of his chair and propelled himself out, leaving Sorrow staring after him.

She’d never seen him that flustered before, never seen him falter; not when her grandmother died, not when Alyssa overdosed. Not when Mael appeared, or even when Harun had passed. For the first time in her life, she doubted her mentor, the man who’d truly been a father to her, who’d raised her and taught her and protected her.

Because she didn’t believe him. He wasn’t in pain, or tired. Or if he was, that wasn’t what was behind his behaviour.

Sorrow wasn’t proud that she was an accomplished liar, but it had left her with the ability to know when others were being dishonest too.

In that moment, Sorrow was certain Charon was hiding something from her. And that he was afraid.





Blessings and Curses

But Sorrow had no time to try to understand why. Within moments of Charon leaving, Fain Darcia and Lady Skae returned, ruddy-cheeked and beaming from the morning’s ride.

Darcia sat beside Sorrow, who barely managed to get the papers out of the way as she did.

“Ah, Sorrow… It was magnificent.” Darcia took her drink from the butler’s hands and sat back. “Almost as good as the hunts back home.”

“Not quite, though,” Lady Skae agreed.

“No. Horses are not as good as alces for riding,” Darcia said.

“Alces?” Sorrow asked.

“Like a deer, but bigger. Much bigger. Faster,” Darcia said. “We use them to hunt wild rangifer, pinnipeds, alba bears, you name it.”

Sorrow allowed herself to be drawn into a conversation about how the northern women hunted, happy to let the two tell her about their traditions, the beasts they killed for food and skins and bones, trying to distract herself from what had happened with Charon. She didn’t want to doubt him, didn’t want to think of him as someone calculating, or with secrets. There were too many secrets going around these days, and too few people she could trust.

The distraction worked, though Sorrow only realized how well when Irris rushed into the room, apologizing for taking her time.

Sorrow squealed when she saw her – she’d missed her, despite last seeing her three days ago. Irris held her tightly, and the two hugged each other.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” Sorrow said fiercely in her friend’s ear. “Are you all right? Charon said there was a breakin at the house, and you were there.”

“I’m fine. Totally fine. What about you? What news do you have?”

Sorrow knew Irris was not just asking about the Sons of Rhannon, and what had happened at the bridge, but about Rasmus too, and what she and Luvian had found in Ceridog.

“I’ll tell you everything. And you can tell me more about—”

Darcia cleared her throat in amusement.

“Sorry,” Sorrow said, releasing Irris, muttering, “Later,” again in her ear as she did.

Sorrow introduced her friend to the foreign women, and all three began to tell Irris what she’d missed, only stopping when Luvian appeared in the doorway, already dressed in a peacock-blue frock coat, frantically reminding them all they had to be ready to leave in half an hour for the Naming ceremony.


The Naming was being held on the outskirts of the complex, in a building that to Sorrow’s eye could have used a little cleaning, hypocritical as that made her. It looked like the wild and disobedient sister of every other building she’d seen in Rhylla, the grey stone worn and crumbling, ivy running rampant over it, instead of falling in manicured curtains. Parts of it were clearly falling down, roped off to keep people from climbing on them. It was only when they got closer that she realized what it was, and why it was significant.