“Let me guess, platinum? With gold manes?”
“What do you think?”
We laughed.
“What about you?”
He raised his eyebrows. “What about me?”
“What happens when all is forgiven, and he needs you again?”
Hugh glanced at Elara again. “It already happened.”
He’d said no.
Huh. That must’ve cost him. My father was everything to Hugh: surrogate father, commander, god . . . And Hugh had walked away from it. He could be lying, but it felt like the truth. It was in his eyes, the way they turned a touch sad and resigned.
“All of his children turn on him eventually,” I said.
“I was never his child.”
I rolled my eyes. “He raised you, he taught you, he encouraged you.”
“He fucked with my head.”
“He fucks with everyone’s head. Yours more than most. For all it matters, you’re his son. You’re fucked up enough to be.”
He barked a short laugh.
“Face it,” I told him. “We are damaged siblings.”
We watched Curran chase Conlan around.
“What was it like?” I asked.
Hugh’s face fell. I didn’t need to elaborate. He knew exactly what I was asking.
“It was like having the sun ripped away,” he said. “I’d reach for the connection out of habit, and there would be a raw wound there, filled with all the shit I did.”
“Sorry,” I told him.
“Don’t be. I’m me now. Still a bastard, but I’m my own bastard now. Nobody tells me what to do.” He glanced at Elara and smiled. “Well, she does once in a while, but it’s worth it.”
“He would give you the world if you came crawling back,” I told him, mimicking his voice.
“I have her. I have our soldiers and our people to protect. I have a castle to run. I don’t want the world. I just want that small corner of it to be safe.”
“Going to war against a dragon isn’t exactly going to keep your Iron Dogs safe.”
He looked at me. “No, but it will help you.”
“You don’t have to pay your old debts, Hugh. Not with me.”
“Just accept the help,” he growled. “You need it.”
“Oh, I’ll take it. Three hundred Iron Dogs and Hugh d’Ambray. I’d be crazy to turn it down.”
“Smart girl.”
“But you and I are fine, Hugh. I mean it.”
“Just like that,” he said.
“No, I thought about it. I let it go for me more than for you. You’re not the only one with corpses in your memories. I killed on command. I didn’t ask why. Voron would point and I would murder.”
“You were a kid,” he said.
“And you had your emotions readjusted. I believe that’s what they call extenuating circumstances. Having them doesn’t help as much as it should, does it? I can’t change what I did. I can only go forward and try to do better. I’ll always be a killer. I like it. You’ll always be a bastard. There is a part of you that enjoys kicking the door in and throwing a severed head on the table.”
“N’importe quoi.”
I made a mental note to ask Christopher to translate. He spoke fluent French.
“Some pair we are,” Hugh said.
“Mm-hm. Sitting here all sad on the porch, while a dragon is invading and our dad is having a midlife crisis with golden chariots . . .”
Hugh grinned, and then his face turned dark.
“Do one thing for me,” he said.
“Mm?”
“Don’t do to the girl what was done to me.”
“Julie’s will is her own. I’ve never forced her to do anything, and I don’t plan on it.”
Elara slid off the branch and jumped into the grass.
“It’s not all bad.” Hugh rose and walked toward her.
I finished my tea.
“Do you trust him?” my aunt asked by my ear.
“I trust the look in his eyes when he speaks about my father. Like he’s torn between loving him and wanting to strangle him.”
“It may prove foolish.”
“If it does, I’ll deal with it,” I told her.
“Spoken like a queen.” My aunt ran her ghostly fingers through my hair. “I finally made you into one.”
“Too bad I’ve run out of time.”
“Is that defeat I hear?” Erra raised her eyebrows.
“No, it’s reality. We may not have the troops to fight Neig, and we definitely can’t face him and my father at the same time. The dragon hates us, but he especially hates him.”
“Are you asking me to persuade your father into an alliance?”
“If the opportunity presents itself.”
My aunt became still. Facing my father would cost her a great deal.
“You ask much, child.”
“Is that defeat I hear?”
She snorted.
“How is it you plan to convince him?” she asked. “Shame? Threats?”
What was it Roman had said? Parents love to play saviors. “No. I’m going to let you use those. If I do it, Dad will just see it as a personal attack and go on the offensive. He wants to be a hero. He wants to come in and save the day and be admired and loved for it. So I plan on being resigned to my fate. Grim, grieving, and in a dark pit of despair.”
“So your father can be your lone ray of hope in the darkness?”
“Yep.”
She studied me. “You’ve grown manipulative.”
“You disapprove?”
“No. I’m surprised.”
“Good. Dad will be surprised, too. I’ve spent a long time convincing him that I don’t do subtle. He doesn’t think I have the brains to manipulate him, so he won’t expect it.”
“You don’t do subtle. Your subtle is pulling a kick so you don’t kill a man with it, just break his bones.”
“I’ve learned.”
She waited, wanting something more from me.
“The word of Sharratum is binding,” I murmured. That was what Erra had said to me when she’d demanded I swear to never rule the land I claimed. “I don’t rule, but I am a queen. I claimed the city. They all need my protection. They don’t even know it, but they need me to survive.” My voice sounded dead. “So I’ll lie, and cheat, and give up my pride. I’ll do whatever I have to do to keep them all safe. I’m not my own person.”
Erra stepped to me. Her arms closed around me. I couldn’t feel her body, but I felt her magic coursing around me.
“Poor child,” she whispered, her voice so soft. “I tried to keep you from it as long as I could.”
I felt like crying, but it didn’t quite come to the surface. I couldn’t afford crying. I had things I had to do.
Curran picked Conlan up and tossed him into the air. The sun hit them just right and I saw an aura emanating from him, a faint shimmer of warm glow. My heart flipped in my chest. He was so far gone.
“You encouraged him to become a god,” I whispered into her embrace.
“I did.”
“I’ll never forgive you for that.”
“You’ll change your mind with time.”
No. I won’t. I wanted to rage and scream at her, but it was Curran who’d made the final decision. I loved him so much and even now he was slipping away from me.
A dull noise echoed through my mind, a silent sound. Someone had just tested my wards. I stepped away from Erra, got up, picked up Sarrat, and headed for the door.
THE WARRIOR STOOD at the end of the street. He wore dark armor and held his helmet in his left hand and a golden chain in his right. I marched toward him, sword smoking.
I stopped just before my ward. He stood on the other side of it.
He was young, maybe twenty, with clear blue eyes like two chips of winter ice, a line of tattoos running down one side of his pale face, and long blond hair pulled back with a leather cord. The chain in his hand was attached to a locket with a gemstone the size of a walnut that looked like pure red fire caught under glass.