But what if he’s right? a small voice at the back of my head asked. What if I can’t master the Logrus? What if this is as much magic as I’ll ever have?
I didn’t like the thought.
“Take my arm,” he said.
With his help, I made it to the chair without falling. My head still swam, but not like before. A clarity had come over me, a sense of warmth and well-being. Probably from the brandy, I thought.
He moved to refill my cup, and I didn’t stop him. I drank it in a single gulp. After a moment’s hesitation, he filled the cup again, and again I drained it all.
A warm glow spread down my throat and into my belly. I pressed my eyes shut, turned away, tried to envision Taine on the altar’s slab and failed. My dream or vision or whatever it had been had left me.
“You’ve had enough brandy,” he said.
“No,” I said, shaking my head. That was a mistake; waves of nausea engulfed me again. “I haven’t had enough yet—not by far. I feel like I need a good three-day drunk.”
“Do not feel bad about the Logrus, my boy,” he said, patting my shoulder. “You grew up without it. You will not miss what you have never had.”
“Won’t I?” A wild fury came over me. My mind was racing, cataloging every sin he’d ever committed against me, and the words just poured out. “Do you know what it’s like, growing up in Ilerium without a father? Yes, you were there, but it wasn’t the same. It wasn’t real. When my mother died in the Scarlet Plague and you simply disappeared—do you know how alone that left me? You cannot imagine it. No father or mother or brothers and sisters. No uncles or aunts, no cousins. No one. Now, ten years later, you magically sweep back in and expect everything to be perfect because, oh yes, you really are my father, and my whole life up till now had been a lie!”
“Oberon…” he whispered. He took a step back, face ashen.
“It’s the truth!” I yelled. My whole body quivered with rage. “And now… after you’ve shown me all these wonders… told me about the Logrus and the powers that should be mine… now you tell me I’ll never have them! And never miss what I’ve never known!”
“I—” he began.
I drowned him out. “I never knew my father, and I missed him. I never knew a real family, and I missed it. I never knew my brothers and sisters, and I missed them every day of my childhood. Every time I saw other children, it reminded me of what I lacked. Don’t tell me I won’t miss what I’ve never had—I know the truth!”
“Perhaps I deserve that,” he said heavily. His shoulders slumped; he seemed old… old and tired and beaten. In that moment, he looked every day of his two hundred years of age.
A pang of guilt touched me, but I pushed it away. He was the one who should feel guilty, I told myself. He was the one who had lied to me, denied me a normal childhood, and now planned to deny me everything else.
I had lived too long in Shadow. Never again. I would not be denied my birthright.
Whatever it took, whatever it cost, I would master the Logrus. I vowed it to myself.
Distantly, I heard a bell toll.
“Time for dinner,” Dworkin said softly. Then with a touch of almost bitter irony, looking up into my eyes, he added, “Time for you to meet the rest of our happy little family.”
Chapter 10
To my displeasure, I needed Dworkin’s steadying touch on my arm to navigate the corridors. Luckily, by the time we reached the dining hall, much of my strength had returned. We paused outside, looking at each other, and I shrugged his hand away.
“I suppose I should thank you,” I said bitterly. Silence stretched uncomfortably between us.
“You cannot help your nature,” he said simply. “You were always a rebellious child, never content.”
“You make me sound ambitious. I’m not. I only want what should by rights be mine.”
“I know,” he said, “and I do not blame you, my boy. It is a lot for me to ask… but try to fit in, and try to be a part of this family. I know it will be difficult—none of us is perfect, me least of all. But… we are all worth the effort. I have to believe that. It keeps me going.”
“Very well,” I said. “I’ll… try. For now.”
“Thank you.”
Turning, he pushed the door open and we entered the dining hall—a large oak-paneled room with a crystal chandelier over the table. Logs blazed, snapping and popping cheerfully, in the fireplace against the far wall, and they took the dampness and chill from the air.
The table had been set for fifteen, though only ten had arrived so far: Freda, Aber, Pella, Blaise, and six others—four men and two women. All twisted in their seats to stare as I came in. Aber grinned happily and waved.
I forced myself to smile and gave the whole table a polite, “Hello.” No sense letting them know how I felt right now; our problems should stay private between Dworkin and me. Freda’s warning echoed in my mind: trust none of them. If any of the others found out what had happened between us in Dworkin’s workshop, they might try to use it against me. No matter how I felt about my father, I wouldn’t allow that to happen.
Locke and Davin I recognized from their Trumps, and from seeing them in the courtyard earlier that day. And, of course, I’d already spoken with Freda, Pella, Blaise, and Aber. The other four were strangers. As I looked over my siblings, I noticed again that all bore a striking resemblance to Dworkin… and to me.
“This is Oberon,” Dworkin said heavily. He started to put a hand on my shoulder, hesitated, let it drop to his side. I caught Freda pursing her lips—she’d noticed, and she didn’t like the tension between us.
“I’m pleased to be here,” I said in even tones. Be bland, be harmless, I told myself. One of them may be trying to kill me—I wouldn’t let on that I knew. “I hope we’ll all grow to be friends as well as family.”
That got a snort of derision from Locke, which he tried to hide behind a quick cough. I gave him a cool appraisal as if to say: I know your type. You will not get to me.
Dworkin did a quick round of introductions, starting with my half-brothers: Locke, of course, tall and stout, with a full black beard and a brooding expression; Davin, a year or two younger than me and slender as a reed, smooth-cheeked and serious; Titus and Conner, clearly identical twins, both as short as our father and both with his eyes and wary expressions; and Fenn, who was taller than Dworkin but not as tall as me, with blue eyes and a hesitant but honestly welcoming smile, Aber came last; he gave me a quick grin.
I nodded and smiled at each in turn. Be calm and polite, reveal nothing, I reminded myself.
As for my half-sisters, I had already met Freda, Pella, and Blaise. That left Isadora and Syara, as alike as two peas in a pod: reddish hair, pale complexions, broad cheeks and eyes, and the slender figures of goddesses. Clearly both shared the same mother. Had we not been related, I would have lusted after them. As it was, I could now only admire them from afar as objects of feminine perfection.
“I want you at my right hand tonight,” Dworkin said to me, starting for the head of the table. “We have a lot of catching up to do. Locke, slide down for Oberon.”
Locke tried to hide his annoyance as he rose to make room for me. Luckily the seat next to his was vacant. As the eldest son, clearly he was used to the place of honor next to our father, and clearly he resented my taking it. So much for our getting off to a good start. If he truly feared my replacing him, as Aber claimed, this would only feed his paranoia.
I gave a mental sigh; surely he would realize that I couldn’t control our father’s whims. And, I had to admit, it seemed only natural for me to sit next to him tonight, on my first evening in Juniper.