The Half King

20

Cerise didn’t have to worry about anyone questioning where she and Kian had been. When they returned to camp, each tent was still tightly closed, their occupants too exhausted to wake with the dawn. Not even Blue padded outside to meet her.

“It’s still early,” Kian whispered, glancing at the sun, which was barely aglow behind the mountain range. “Let them sleep.”

They divided the morning tasks between them, and while Kian dressed, stoked a fire, and set a kettle to boil, Cerise fed the horses. She had just dispensed the last of the day’s feed when Kian pressed a warm mug of tea into her palm. But it wasn’t her usual blend. The liquid was several shades too dark, and it smelled less fragrant and more earthy than she liked.

“What is this?” she asked.

“It’s medicinal,” he told her.

Cerise sniffed at the tea. She didn’t care for the scent, but she took a sip anyway. A horrible flavor crossed her tongue, a taste more bitter than unripe berries.

“Oh, that’s awful,” she said, making a face.

“Yes, it is utterly vile,” Kian agreed. “But trust me, you need this. I’m afraid you have to finish all of it.”

She didn’t want to drink any more of his terrible tea, but she had tasted far worse. So she tipped back the mug and forced down every last gulp.

She shivered in revulsion. “What was that?”

“Crone’s weed,” he said.

“And why did I have to drink it?”

“Because, my lady of the temple,” he began, and then he leaned down, lowering his voice to a whisper, “after what we did this morning, we don’t want my seed taking root in your fertile ground, do we?”

“Oh,” she said. She hadn’t thought of that. But as she glanced into her empty mug, she wondered if she agreed with him. These were unusual times—desperate times. Kian was the last of his dynasty. Only a few moons remained to break the noble curses, and if they failed, he would disappear forever into the shadows and leave no one to control the priests. But if she could give him a firstborn, even an illegitimate one, his child would not only ensure the survival of the Mortara bloodline but also prevent the Order from taking the throne.

She peered up at him and asked, “Or do we?”

Kian blinked once, twice. His eyebrows shot up, and he drew back as though she had physically slapped him. “No,” he answered in a cold, hard tone that felt like a slap in return. “We certainly do not.”

“Just hear me out.”

“I don’t need to.”

“Please listen,” she said, lowering her voice to a whisper so as not to wake the others. “I know it’s not ideal…”

“Not ideal?” he hissed. “Have you lost your mind?”

“I understand that a child should be born out of love,” she said, “not brought into the world to serve a purpose. But the world needs protection from the Order. Right now, that protection is you. What if we can’t break the curse? You’ve seen what the priests do when your back is turned. Now imagine them without a master. Imagine them as the master. You can’t let that happen. Our child could be a fail-safe.”

“You talk as if we’ve already lost,” Kian said. “Why are you giving up so soon? We have the sunset runes. The goddess obviously favors you. We don’t need a fail-safe.”

“The runes will only lead us to the blade,” she reminded him. “Nero said that to win it, I have to face a test I know nothing about. And the goddess’s favor changes every day. Her wrathful eye sees as clearly as her merciful one.”

“You asked me to have faith in you,” Kian said. “And I did. Now it’s your turn to have faith in yourself. There will be no fail-safe. Either we break this curse, or it ends with me. I won’t keep passing it on like the plague that it is.”

“But that’s not fair,” she whispered. “The threat of the Order is bigger than a plague. It’s bigger than you or me or any of the noble firstborns. You have to think of others. It would be selfish to let your bloodline die out on purpose.”

Kian went unnaturally still. His gaze remained locked onto hers, unblinking as his stare quickly transformed from fire and fury into the coldest, blackest of ice. Cerise felt a dropping sensation. She’d pushed him too far.

“How dare you say that to me?” he breathed.

“I didn’t mean it like—”

“How dare you,” he cut in, his eyes narrowing to slits, “tell me to think of others when you’ve seen where I go at night. You’ve witnessed that hell. You’ve watched what your goddess has done to the souls trapped in her purgatory. And after all the nights that I’ve spent crouched in the corners of that cold labyrinth, you think I haven’t considered anyone but myself?”

Anger flashed in his eyes, mingled with a hurt and betrayal that made her long to take back her careless words.

“I assure you that I have thought of others,” he said. “I wouldn’t send my worst enemy to live in the shadows. So if you truly believe that I would condemn my own child to spend an eternity there, then you don’t know me at all. In this case, my lady, you’re the selfish one.”

Cerise dropped her gaze while her cheeks burned with shame. She fidgeted with her mug, twisting it in her grasp and wishing she could disappear inside it. She hated that she had hurt him. And she hated even more the way he looked at her now, as though she were a dust storm on the horizon instead of the only star in his sky. She wanted more than anything to repair what she had damaged so they could go back to loving each other, but she didn’t know how.

She started with an apology. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t tell me you’re sorry,” he snapped. “Tell me you understand.”

“I understand,” she repeated. “I really do. I should have thought it through. I just wanted to consider all the options.”

“Then let’s not speak of this again.”

She snuck a peek at him, hoping he would extend his arms to her in forgiveness. But he didn’t. Instead, he turned on his heel and strode to their tent to begin dismantling it. While he pulled the first wooden stake from the ground, she stood alone in front of the fire and wondered how it was possible that only moments earlier, they had been as close as two people could be. Now an invisible barrier divided them, and she didn’t know how Kian could stand it. To her, the rift felt like a living thing, a parasite that squirmed beneath her skin and made her want to crawl out of her own body.

She did her best to busy herself while Kian burned off his anger. Gradually, the camp came to life. Blue awoke first, followed by General Petros and Nero, then Daerick and Father Padron. Cerise kept her gaze turned down as she handed each man an oatcake and a mug of tea. There was a hot pressure building behind her eyes, and even with Blue nuzzling her in comfort, she didn’t know how long she could hold back her tears.

Then Father Padron called her name, and she reflexively glanced at him. He must have noticed the moisture welling in her eyes, because his gaze widened in concern. Oddly, it was the look of sympathy from him that broke the floodgate holding back her tears, and before she knew it, she was openly sobbing.

“Oh, my child,” Father Padron said. He strode to her and gripped her upper arms. “You didn’t receive the Sight, did you?”

She had already forgotten it was her Claiming Day, but she let him assume that her tears were of disappointment.

“I’m sorry, Cerise,” Father Padron told her, and to his credit, he sounded sincere. He didn’t gloat or lecture or make any reference to his warning about her love for the king and what it might cost her. At least not yet. The chiding would doubtlessly come later. For now, he only shook his head. “I was so certain,” he said, more to himself than to anyone else. “I sensed something in you… I still do. And I’m so rarely wrong.”

General Petros cleared his throat. “I’m sorry, my girl.”

“So am I,” Daerick added. “But you don’t have to be an oracle to change the world. You told me that once.”

She nodded and dabbed her face with her shirtsleeve. She had said that.

The only members of the group who didn’t offer their condolences were Kian and Nero, who each stood with their arms folded, their heads tilted at a nearly identical angle as they studied her with matching expressions that were impossible to read.

“Yes, well,” Kian began, and then he turned to Nero and changed the subject. “We should discuss our provisions before we break down the camp any further. It might be a good idea to take the day to hunt and forage. We lost a lot of supplies when we left behind the wagon. I know the Petros Blade will move again at the next full moon, but we won’t find it if we starve to death first.”

“I was thinking the same thing,” Nero said. “It’s best to hunt in the hour before dawn, when the deer are active. But we should be able to track one or two.” He nodded at Blue. “If we take the ugly hound with us.”

Blue whined. Cerise rubbed behind his ears to assure him that he was the most beautiful pup in her world. She didn’t trust herself to speak, so she nodded to give her permission. Blue needed to hunt anyway.

“We can smoke the meat over the fire,” Nero went on. “It will take all night, but by tomorrow morning, we could have enough jerky to last us a week.”

“Then it’s decided,” Kian announced. “We’ll stay here for one more night. Nero and the general will lead the hunt. Blue will go with them. Father Padron, I want you to ride along as well to protect the kill. We can’t have the scent of fresh blood drawing any unwanted attention from predators.”

Father Padron pursed his lips in displeasure, but he bowed his head. “As His Majesty commands.”

“As for the rest of us,” Kian said, “we’ll reassemble the tents and then go foraging for sand melon and whatever else we can find.” He clapped once. “Let’s get to it.”

As half of the group prepared for a hunt, no one questioned the king’s motives. But Cerise knew what he was really doing—sending them away so she could talk with Daerick in private about what had happened at the boulder. In the wake of her fight with Kian, she had nearly forgotten about that, too.

As she watched Blue lead the hunting party to the west, she almost wished she could go with them. She wasn’t in the mood for talking, not even to Daerick, who now sat cross-legged on the other side of the fire and sipped his tea, patiently waiting for someone to inform him of why the group had been divided. As brilliant as Daerick was, he had to know there was a reason Kian had told him to stay behind.

“Well?” Daerick asked Kian.

Instead of answering him, Kian held up an index finger and then slowly made his way around the campfire to where Cerise stood. He stopped in front of her, leaving an arm’s length of distance between them.

“Are you really upset about your Claiming Day?” He took a step forward and used his thumb to brush a tear from her cheek. “Or is this because we argued?”

Cerise stared into the distance and folded her arms tightly across her chest. The writhing inside her had died. Now she felt like her ribs might spring open, and it was all she could do to hold her body together.

“Ah, I see.” Kian released a sigh. “We had a lovers’ quarrel, Cerise. The first of many, I’m sure. Conflict is an inevitable part of life. There’s no avoiding it.” He tried to tilt her chin to face him. “Will you look at me?”

She jerked free of his grasp.

“Enough of this,” he said, his temper flaring. “We don’t have time for games. The others won’t stay gone forever, and we have bigger problems than a squabble. You have to talk to me so we can move on. Tell me what you’re thinking.”

Even if she wanted to tell him, she couldn’t put her thoughts into words…at least not words that she was willing to say out loud. She didn’t want to admit how she truly felt: weak and pathetic, half mad with the fear of losing him. But then an odd sensation came over her, a disconnect between her body and mind, as though she were a puppet with an invisible hand inside her chest. Before she knew what was happening, she whispered, “I’m scared that you’ll never see me the same way again. That I let you down so badly this might be the beginning of the end for us.”

Oh, goddess , she shouldn’t have said any of that!

She didn’t know what had come over her, but she clapped a hand over her mouth to stop any more words from slipping out. Silence filled the air, interrupted only by the occasional crackle from the fire. She glanced at Kian to find his face frozen in shock.

“What?” he breathed. “How could you think that?”

She shook her head. She didn’t trust herself to speak.

“How?” he repeated, pulling her hand away from her mouth. “Tell me how you could think that.”

She swallowed hard. “It was the way you looked at me. And then it was the way you wouldn’t look at me. I thought…”

“That I no longer want you?” he asked in a tone that implied she had lost all touch with her senses. He dragged a hand over his face. “Gods be damned. I sometimes forget how sheltered you’ve been.” He pinched the bridge of his nose and drew a deep breath. “Have you never had an argument before?”

“Not really,” she said. “Not like this.” The bickering with other children at the temple didn’t count. Those spats hadn’t made her feel anything as terrible as she felt now. She had never had a lovers’ quarrel, because until this day, she’d never had a lover.

“Tell me this, my lady of the temple,” he said. “Do you care for me?”

“Yes.”

“And do I sometimes frustrate you?” he asked. “Be honest.”

“You frustrate me often,” she admitted. “Nearly every day.”

In the background, Daerick sniggered.

“All right, then,” Kian said dryly. “Every day. And in those frequent moments when I vex you to no end, do you stop caring for me?”

“No,” she told him.

“Then why would you expect me to be any different? I’m capable of feeling more than one emotion at a time. Even when I’m upset with you, I never doubt that my spirit is yours. And there’s nothing you could do to change that. Nothing at all.” He unsheathed his dagger and offered it to her. “You could take this blade and drive it through the heart of every man in existence—my own included—and I would love you no less.”

Daerick interjected, “I beg your pardon? Every man?”

“Barring Lord Calatris,” Kian added. “He’s still a boy.”

Cerise bit her lip against a smile.

“Do you want proof?” he asked, nodding at the blade.

“Not today,” she told him. “Today, the men are safe.”

Kian sheathed his dagger and then took her face roughly between his hands. “Listen to me, and listen well,” he whispered. “Our time is over when I take my last breath. Not one moment before. Do you understand?”

“I understand,” she told him, relief flowing through her.

Kian kissed her while Daerick made a retching noise.

“Cheers to true love,” Daerick called, lifting his mug of tea in a mock toast. “Now that the two of you have settled your differences, perhaps you can tell me the reason you sent everyone else away while I was forced to stay here and watch you kiss and make up.”

“My apologies, Lord Calatris,” Kian said to him. “I hope the experience hasn’t scarred you beyond repair.”

“Yes, well, you should be sorry.” Daerick pointed back and forth between them. “That was painfully awkward for me, you know.”

Cerise hadn’t enjoyed it, either. “I hope you didn’t overhear too much.”

“Only enough to make me wish this were ale,” he said into his mug. “Now will you tell me why I’m here?”

Kian led Cerise back to the fire, and the two of them settled cross-legged on the ground beside Daerick, close enough that they could speak in low voices. Even with Father Padron gone, sound carried on the wind.

“Our lady’s Claiming Day,” Kian began, squeezing Cerise’s hand. “It was more eventful than she led you to believe.”

“Oh, really?” Daerick asked. “How so?”

“While the rest of you were sleeping, we took a walk to the east,” Kian said. “So we could…watch the sunrise.”

“So you could watch the sunrise?” Daerick repeated flatly.

Kian glared at him. “The story will take longer if you interrupt me.”

Daerick made a buttoning motion across his mouth.

“As I said,” Kian went on, “we walked to the east until we reached the boulder at the head of the trail. We stopped there to watch the sunrise, and without warning, magic split the boulder in half and a spring opened up in the ground.”

“How do you know it was magic and not an act of nature?” Daerick asked. “Perhaps the boulder was already damaged and you just happened to be there to see it fall.”

“Because I tasted energy,” Cerise said. “I felt it, too. It came up from the ground and passed through me. And the spring was enchanted somehow. The water had special properties. Everywhere it touched, flowers grew—the same lavender flower that I sacrificed at the Blighted Shrine.”

“So the magic simply appeared out of nowhere, without a reason?” Daerick wrinkled his forehead. “Nothing happened to trigger it?”

“Oh…well.” Cerise looked to Kian, her shoulders stiffening. “I wouldn’t say nothing happened. I was…uh…I was…”

“Overcome with the beauty of the sunrise,” Kian finished. “The experience moved her.”

“Yes,” she agreed. “I was moved.”

Daerick made a pained face. “Oh, gods, I think I understand.”

“And there was a warning of sorts,” Kian said. “Right before it all happened, before the boulder cracked in half, her skin began to glow. I thought I imagined it at first, or that it was a trick of the sun. But it wasn’t. She lit up from the inside out, as though—”

“—as though her blood were made of fire?” Daerick guessed. He glanced at Cerise and arched an eyebrow. “It would make sense. I thought the term umbra sangi was more symbolic than literal, but perhaps I was wrong.”

“Is that what you think?” she asked. “That I’m like Nero?”

“Yes and no,” Daerick told her. “He’s umbra sangi but not like you.”

“You’re right; he’s not like me,” she said. “His skin doesn’t glow. I’ve seen him cast magic—you have, too—and nothing about him changes. He doesn’t light up.”

Daerick shrugged. “He might, if he had more flame in his blood. He told us you have more fire than he does. That’s not the difference I’m referring to.”

“Then what?” Kian asked.

Daerick pointed at Kian. “ You’re what. Cerise can leave her mortal body and follow you into the underworld. Nero can’t. To my knowledge, no one else can. Her spiritual connection to you is what sets her apart from Nero.”

“So what are you saying?” she asked. “That I’m not descended from the goddess?”

“No, I’m saying you are,” Daerick told her. “But I believe you’re more than that.”

Cerise recalled something Nero had told her the morning after the titan hyena attack—that her blood would burn darker than usual. She decided to see if he was right. “Can I borrow your knife?” she asked Kian. When he handed it to her, she nicked the pad of her index finger and then held her fingertip above the edge of the fire. As soon as the first droplet fell onto the red-hot coals, a tiny flame leaped up, blacker than onyx.

“I think Nero was right,” she said. “I’m umbra sangi .”

“Any theories as to what else she might be?” Kian asked Daerick.

“Actually, yes,” Daerick said. “And I’d like to test my theory.” He licked his lips, hesitating as if to prepare them for a shock. “I’d like to see if Cerise can refuse a direct order from her king.”

Cerise blinked. “You think I might be a priest?”

“A priest ess ,” Daerick corrected. “But yes, the thought crossed my mind.”

“That’s absurd,” she said. There had never been one mention of a female priest in all of recorded history. There hadn’t even been rumors of it—at least none that she had heard.

“Is it?” Daerick asked. “Is it any more absurd for you to be a priestess than it is for a goddess of darkness and light to craft a world of mortal beings and then fall in love with one of her own creations? And then to take human form so she could impregnate her mortal lover and sire a race of beings with actual fire in their blood?”

“Don’t forget the goddess’s mood swings,” Kian added. “I find that rather absurd as well.”

“I have to agree,” Daerick said. “The world is full of absurdities, Cerise.”

“All right.” She couldn’t argue with that. “Go ahead and put your theory to the test.”

Daerick picked up a pebble and handed it to Kian, whispering something in his ear. Whatever he said made the king scowl.

“Just do it,” Daerick prompted.

“Fine.” Kian heaved a sigh and then told Cerise, “You might want to scoot back. This won’t work if you’re too close.”

“Is this part of the test?” she asked.

“Not yet,” Daerick said. “More like test preparation.”

She scooted back and put more distance between them.

Kian tossed the pebble to her. “Now I command you to pick up this rock and throw it as hard as you can at Lord Calatris.”

“Wait,” Daerick objected. “She’s supposed to throw it at you.”

Kian’s lips twitched in a grin. “Aim for his face. Really give it your all.”

Even as Cerise rolled her eyes at their immature banter, she found herself leaning forward and retrieving the pebble. She didn’t know what had prompted her to do it. She hadn’t meant to. The act was reflexive, like surrendering to a yawn.

“Try to resist,” Daerick said, watching her intently.

She set her mind to a different task: tossing the pebble into the fire. She drew back her arm and took aim at the burning pit, but something stopped her from finishing the motion. It was as though she had forgotten how. Then she unconsciously began rotating toward Daerick. She fought with all her strength to turn away from him, but her body wouldn’t obey. The experience was unlike the magic Father Padron had used to force her to drink when she had been sick. She was free to breathe and blink and do anything she wanted…except refuse the king’s order. Her muscles tensed, and with all her might, she hurled the pebble at Daerick’s face.

Daerick ducked aside, and the pebble bounced into the distance. He let out a low whistle while Cerise and Kian stared at each other in disbelief.

She was subject to his command.

But as impossible as it seemed, the bond of obedience began to make sense. She recalled the strange feeling that had come over her earlier—a disconnect between her mind and her body, as though she were a puppet with a hand inside her chest.

“That’s why I said all of those things,” she realized. “When we argued, you ordered me to tell you what I was thinking. I didn’t want to, but I couldn’t stop myself.”

Kian’s lips parted, and he sat still and silent while all of the color drained from his face. Then he pushed up from the ground and strode briskly away from the fire.

Cerise followed him and pulled him to a stop. “What is it?”

“Did you…” he whispered, staring blankly ahead. “Did you really want me?” He turned his gaze to hers. “When we were at the boulder…I wasn’t compelling you, was I?”

“What?” She placed a hand on his cheek. “Of course not. I’m the one who took you there. I told you what I wanted. You let me set the pace the whole time.”

“Are you sure?” he asked, terror in his eyes. “I want your love, not your obedience.”

“And you have it,” she told him. “I know what compulsion feels like. It feels wrong and unnatural, and those are the last words I would ever use to describe what we did together. I’ve had enough shame from the Order. I don’t need it from you, too. Please don’t take the most beautiful moment of my life and turn it into something ugly.”

That seemed to reach him. His gaze softened. “Do you swear that I didn’t force you?”

“My king,” she said, “you were mine to command, remember?”

He sighed in relief and took her hand once again. “And I forevermore will be. Nothing can happen between us unless you command it.”

“All right,” she said. “If that’s what you want.”

“It’s what I want,” he told her.

And with that, they returned to the fire.

Daerick had finished his tea, but he turned his empty mug over and over in his hands. He glanced at Cerise, his gaze somber. “You have to be careful. More than careful…obsessively vigilant. Whatever gifts you have, you need to learn to control them. Because if you slip up and use magic around the wrong person…”

“He’s right,” Kian said. “No one can find out.”

“Especially not Father Padron,” she added. A shiver rolled over her when she remembered his warning. Betrayers will suffer until the end of days .

Kian squeezed her palm as if sharing her fear. “I can command the priests to leave you untouched while I’m alive, but…”

“I know,” she interrupted. She didn’t need to hear the rest. They had already argued about the topic. If she failed to break the curse, the Order would be free to erase her like the anomaly that she was.

“Cerise,” Daerick said tentatively. “I heard you say that you resemble your mother but not your father.” When she nodded, he bit his lip and apologized with his eyes, reminding her of a healer preparing to lance a boil. “How certain are you that he is your father?”

As soon as he spoke the words, a dozen tiles clicked together in her mind to form a picture so distinct she couldn’t believe it had taken her so long to see it. Her heart resisted, but she knew Daerick might be right. It would explain why Father had panicked when someone from court had taken an interest in Mama. Mama must have had an affair with a palace lord and become pregnant. Father had obviously known, but instead of shaming Mama and casting her out, he had pretended Cerise was his child.

But why would he do that?

Because second-borns are given to the temple .

She stopped breathing. The answer shook her to her core. Father had claimed her so that he could be rid of her at the temple. She had never belonged there. She should have been raised at home with Nina. But in order for that to happen, Mama and Father would have been forced to admit the truth about her parentage, and that would’ve spawned the kind of gossip that noble families avoided. So instead of living with the reminder of their shame, they had sent her away—out of sight, out of mind—to a place where they would only have to see her on visiting days.

Her throat constricted while tears burned in her eyes.

Every part of her life had been a lie.

“I’m sorry, Cerise,” Daerick said, softer than a rose petal. He gave her an apologetic smile. “Happy Claiming Day. If it’s any consolation, mine might be worse.”