Melisia had worked her whole life to bring peace to Rhylla, and had finally secured it, only for her own brother to discover a way to make it impossible for ever if word got out. And Vespus wanted to use Rhannon as the farm to make it happen.
Vespus waited for Sorrow to look back at him, her mouth an “O” as wave after wave of horror engulfed her, before he continued. “And there are other gifts as well. Gifts we don’t talk about. Gifts Melisia keeps hidden away, because it doesn’t suit her ideas of how Rhylla should be. She’s nice when she needs to be, my half-sister, but I didn’t get my determination from my father. Melisia has her fair share, she’s capable of making tough decisions too, when she has to.”
He paused, clearly waiting for Sorrow to ask what he meant, but she couldn’t, the air squeezed from her lungs, her terror a corset ever-tightening as his words and their meaning battered her.
When she remained silent, he gave a light shrug, and continued.
“As Rasmus can heal pain, there are those whose touch inflicts it. Rhyllians who can project visions into the mind. Imagine what that would mean, when amplified? My half-sister works so very hard to make sure the rest of Laethea doesn’t see us as a threat. Why? We are a threat. Stronger, faster, gifted. And we could be more, thanks to the sap of the Alvus tree. A tree that only I can grow with any real success.”
Sorrow finally saw then why the land was so valuable to him. Why he was willing to try for decades to get it. Why he couldn’t and wouldn’t ever stop. “If you have better land, you can grow more trees. Make more Starwater. Sell it.”
“More than that, Sorrow. Power. For every person like Melisia who thinks it’s an abomination, two others will want it. Fight for it. Fight for me to grow it for them. And that’s only the start. No one knows the full extent of what the Alvus tree is capable of,” Vespus said. “Or most plants, for that matter. Did you know all medicine comes from plants? All of it. Imagine how much there is to be discovered. What if Starwater is the secret to unlocking abilities in all Rhyllians? What if a daily dose of Starwater in a pregnant woman guarantees a child born with an ability? At present less than forty per cent of Rhyllians have one. Perhaps I could make that one hundred per cent.”
Sorrow knew then that she’d made a mistake. She should have ignored Charon’s warning when they first met Mael, and contacted the Rhyllian queen with her suspicions about Vespus. Melisia obviously had concerns about her half-brother’s ambitions all along, if Sorrow had only reached out…
She looked at the Rhyllian lord, the confident smile playing at his lips, and something else occurred to her.
“Why are you telling me this now?” Sorrow asked.
“Because you are going to give me the land I want after you win the election tomorrow.”
He said it with such certainty that Sorrow caught herself about to nod before she managed to stop herself. “You have no way of knowing I’m going to win. Mael might.”
“No, he won’t. We both know that now. And even if, by some miracle, he did, he’d hand it to you. All he wants is for you to love and accept him. He seems to think I’m the reason you hate him, and that’s why you have such a troubled relationship. He’s made it very clear that if he were to win, I wouldn’t be welcome here because of it. So I suppose it’s lucky for me now that he’s not going to.”
“That still doesn’t explain why you think I’d give you Rhannish land.”
“Firstly, because I know about you and my son.”
Sorrow’s skin flamed as her innards turned to liquid.
“Don’t bother denying it. I know.” His eyes turned to the bed, his brows raised, and Sorrow’s face burned brighter.
“He told you?” Sorrow said. There was no point in lying if that was the case.
“Stars, no. He’d sooner betray his entire country than harm you. No, he didn’t tell me.”
“Then how?”
Vespus took another sip of his drink. “You never did figure out who your spy was, did you?”
A shiver ran through her as some instinct woke inside her. Something slippery and loose: a warning. She’d walked into the room believing she had the upper hand, but right then she wondered what other cards Vespus held, that he was so willing to show her the ones he had.
“Who was the spy?” She fought to keep her voice level.
“Not who. What.” He looked at her. “Not even a guess?”
Sorrow shook her head.
“You remember Aphora? Her ability is an affinity with birds. She can summon them, ask them to do her bidding. It’s not all that uncommon, as abilities go. I bet you didn’t know the idea for training hawks as messengers originated in Rhylla, did you? Because of the ability. It sparked an idea. Except Aphora can speak to the birds. And they can speak to her. They can tell her everything they see, and hear…”
In her mind’s eye Sorrow saw her outside the inn in Rhylla, the very first time she’d met her. How the hummingbirds that had so enchanted her had gathered around the Rhyllian woman, like moons orbiting a planet.
Sorrow had another flash of memory then – the night at the ball, when she and Rasmus had so recklessly kissed right there in the Great Hall in Adavaria. The birds that had flown above them, jewel colours flashing through the vines.
“In the Rhyllian queen’s home… Shame on you both.” Vespus read her thoughts on her face.
But she was too busy sifting back through the last few weeks to rise to it. Every time they’d had the windows open in the North Marches. In Ceridog, when someone had somehow seen them holding hands – the swallows darting outside. Birds. Birds everywhere.
In the ambassador’s palace in the castle complex. The window was open; she remembered the smell of the roses… Charon had closed it, but what had they said before? She couldn’t remember.
Sorrow’s heart was beating so hard her chest hurt. “You have no proof,” Sorrow said. “The twittering of birds, and the word of a lackey.”
“I don’t need proof. The mere idea would be enough to damage you beyond repair. And Rasmus would be arrested. Melisia loves the boy but, as we’ve established, she’ll put her dream of some fictional, utopian Rhylla before anything else.” He paused to laugh. “You’ve rather reminded me of her, with your antics over this campaign. But, yes, she’d arrest him. It would kill her to, but she would do it rather than risk being seen to be making exceptions for her nephew. And even if no proof is found, he’d be ruined just by the gossip. No one would want him near them.”
“He’s your son…” Sorrow said.
“Ah, but not my only one. Come now, don’t look so shocked. You met Xalys. I could easily legitimize one of my bastards. After all, Harun legitimized Mael…” He raised his brows.
Was that it? Was this the truth, finally? Sorrow made a guess.