Page 82 of Omen of ice
“I was forced to flee my homeland several years before the war. Anything I elaborated on would be nothing more than speculation.” He leans back and scowls. The expression is so much like Valen’s that it’s haunting. “Besides, it’s ancient history.”
“It doesn’t seem like ancient history. If she wasn’t the person we think she was—who was she?”
Delkin’s brows lift, his posture stiffening just a bit. “Aphelian was so blindly in love with Servis that it clouded her judgment.”
“Judgment about what?”
He smiles, but it’s not genuine. “Many, many things.”
Another thing he and Valen have in common: the ability to talk in riddles. I know there’s no point in pushing it. He’s not going to tell me, and really, do I want to know? Aphelian was the hero of our people—and Valen’s. What’s in the past is in the past. I hesitate, then say, “Please don’t tell him his magic is hurting me.”
Delkin quirks a brow.
“If there’s something wrong with me as a result of Valen’s magic, it shouldn’t affect him, right?”
He frowns, and it’s impossible not to see the resemblance between him and his son. “No. Despite the link, the magic is Valen’s, and he should suffer no ill effects.”
I nod. “Good. Then I would appreciate keeping this between us.”
“Daroose knows as well.”
“I’ll handle Daroose. Do I have your word?” Maybe it isn’t fair to ask him to keep this from his son, but I don’t want Valen to find out. I know him. If he discovers the truth, he’ll undoubtedly do something reckless to try to “save” me—and we can’t afford that right now.
“I won’t tell him if that’s what you wish—but I think you should.”
“I will. Eventually.” I slip from the bed, and when I wobble a bit, Delkin is there to steady me. “We need to go. We’re on our way to see my high priestess in Ventin Peaks. She can sever the link between us. I sent word of our progress to her a few hours ago.”
“Days, you mean.”
“What?” The air chills, and the bottom drops out from my stomach.
“You’ve both been asleep for four days now. We were starting to worry.”
“Damn it!” I push past him and step into the sunshine. Across the way, Valen also appears. We stare at each other for a minute, and I’m not sure when I start moving, but soon I find myself in the center of the platform, face to face with him.
His brow furrows, lips twisting downward. “What Delkin was saying about Orbik…about my mother. I was so angry.”
“I know.”
His hand twitches like he intends to reach for me, but it stills. “I didn’t mean for you to get hurt. Are you going to be okay?”
There’s pain in his voice so deep that it steals my breath. How am I supposed to tell him that there’s a chance he’s hurting me each time the magic inside him flares? It’s not something he can control. Maybe deep down, a part of him already knows. Maybe that’s why I feel such strong spikes of guilt through the link sometimes. How can I confess to something that will make that worse?
I’m not sure if it’s his desire to wrap his arms around me, or mine to him, but I’m suddenly cold from lack of contact. I shake it off and take a step back, slugging him hard in the arm. “Of course! You’re a big baby. If I got hurt, you’d get hurt. Then I’d have to listen to you whine about it for days.”
He fights a grin. “I’m glad you’re—”
A commotion behind us is followed by a familiar voice shouting, “My druid!” Daroose flings himself across the platform and throws his arms around me. “I was so lost without you!”
I untangle myself from him and step away. “I trust you’ve stayed out of trouble?”
Delkin snickers. “Daroose will find trouble even when there’s none to be found.”
“How do you know each other?” Valen probably hoped we’d managed to ditch the kelpie, but I’m oddly happy to see him. I’m starting to realize how small my life in Lunal was, how constricted. There’s so much more to Derriga than I imagined, and the individuals I’ve met along the way have kept me on my toes.
“We’re old friends,” Daroose says with a wink.
“Well, say goodbye.” I gesture toward the floor. “We need to move. We’ve been asleep for four days.”
