Page 130 of The Ragpicker King
“And is this what you want?” Lin whispered. She thought of the King, crying out to her in Malgasi:They are trying to prevent me from becoming what I am.
I?The King’s inner voice was soft.There is no Markus now. I do not think I will ever be Markus again. But yes, a part of me longs for a great, cleansing fire. I dream of the open sky in which I might have the power of flight. I am no longer needed to rule Castellane. My son could take the throne. I could be free.
The ache of longing in his voice hurt. But something else hurt more. Lin said, “But Conor told me you agreed, when he was very young, that he would marry the Malgasi Princess. Why? Why let them touch your child?”
Because if I had not, they would not have let him live. They cannot kill me; I am the phoenix itself. But thanks to me, Conor also bears its blood in his veins. It is a power he knows nothing of—and a power the Malgasi will always believe belongs to them. I always knew he was in danger. It is why I provided for him theKirálar.The Sword Catcher.
Lin exhaled sharply. “But Kel cannot protect him from such a force.”
There is more to the bond between a Prince and his Sword Catcherthan you know. The Malgasi fear it. And as long as they thought they would have Conor one day, that the Belmany line would not lose all the power the blood of the fire-bird has given it...
“But they know now they will not have Conor. Not through marriage.”
My son is too clever by half. Too clever for his own safety.The voice in Lin’s mind was colder now. The way it spoke of Conor—there was a possessiveness there, but none of the warmth of love. And was it the King’s possessiveness, or that of the phoenix for its own blood?
Lin thought of Conor healing from the whipping, how it had left no scars. She had thought it was her own power. But perhaps it had been his.
And then he brought you to me,said the King—or perhaps it was the phoenix who was speaking now.An Ashkar physician. The great fear of the Malgasi—an Ashkar woman of great power. One who could become the Goddess.
Lin thought of the Exilarch.You must understand the power of legends, Lin. The Goddess is a Goddess if her people believe she is.
“But they still have magic,” she protested. “Elsabet Belmany can wield fire with her hands—”
You know of the Source-Stones. You possess one. The Belmany have a few they keep in their treasury, still charged with the power of the phoenix, but they cannot last forever. Soon enough they will be gone.
The King opened his hands. His palms were a map of a volcanic land, glassy with onyx-black stone, crossed with veins of bloody fire.
In her mind, his voice was a hissing whisper.
Daughter of Sorah,he said.You, like me, are becoming. I need you to become what you are destined to be—for should the Malgasi win Castellane for themselves, they will possess the phoenix again. Only another power that existed before the Sundering can tear their armies apart. They know of the prophecy of the Goddess. It is why they will wipe every Ashkar off the face of the earth, if they have their way. Should the Goddess be reborn, she could destroy them forever.
Lin remembered Aron’s tale of the son of House Belmany who fell in love with an Ashkar woman and learned the legend of the Goddess.
“Is that why you summoned me here with that dream?” Lin said. “Because my trial is today? I cannot promise—”
Hush. I can do something for you, and you can do something for me.Lin could feel the heat that rose from the King’s hands, as if they were burning sticks in the desert.When my blood touched you, I saw into your mind, as you saw mine. I saw the trial that you must face, and I saw your fears. I can give you power, child. Power through my blood that will make your stone glow brighter than any in the Belmany treasury.
Lin lifted her face to his. “But what could I do in return? For you?”
His hands came up; she felt his talons on either side of her face, wands of fire and thorns. Claws scraped her skin gently. Her stomach thumped, half with revulsion, half with desire—not for the King, but for the power promised by his touch.The Malgasi will come. They cannot be held back without great power. You will be that power. You will protect Castellane. You will protect your people. For without the Goddess, all are doomed.
He dropped his hands, his blank eyes fixing on her face. And for the first time he spoke, not in her mind, but aloud, his voice cracking and rusty but still the voice of a King.
“The Malgasi fear a legend,” he said. “Claim your power. Give them something true to fear.”
Kel raced out of the bright sunlight and up the steps of the Castel Mitat, his mind awhirl. However firmly he had told Andreyen that he was unafraid of Conor’s anger, of his sense of betrayal, the words rang hollow to him now. He and Conor had so rarely fought, nor could he remember a time when Conor had been truly disappointed in him. The thought of it—
Was brushed quickly from his mind as he looked up and saw Conor jogging down the stairs. He was clearly in a hurry, his expression distracted, a sheaf of vellum papers under his arm.
They reached each other halfway up the stairs. Conor started at the sight of Kel before casting him a distracted smile. He looked much as he had this morning, though he had thrown on a deep-red cloak, made for ceremonial occasions, with gold Aurelian roses embroidered on the sleeves. Binding his forehead was a heavy gold circlet.
“On your way to the Dial Chamber?” Kel asked.
Conor nodded and shifted the papers he was carrying. “Succession documents for the dye Charter,” he said. “Beatris will be taking over from Ciprian. Not that she’s in much of a state to sign paperwork, but the Law makes no allowances for grief.”
Kel thought of Beatris Cabrol, the way she tended to always find her brother at any party or ball, the way she stood beside him as if reveling in his protection. At least, he thought, Ciprian would not go into the gray lands unmissed.
“I suppose not. What of the tea Charter...?”
