Kayla.
He nods. A sorrow in his eyes. "I have made it a habit to avoid the politics of this world, and when she wakes, her life will be nothing but political."
His words make no sense. "What do you mean?"
"Oh, of course." He chuckles. "You would not know. But I should not be the one to tell you."
"Tell me what?"
"When Kayla wakes, you will know. And if she doesn't wake, then I suppose it doesn't matter. None of it will have mattered."
I am tired of these games. These half-spoken truths. "Now who is the one speaking in riddles? You are not my friend, Tavian Gray. You are but a means to an end. Do not test me."
He shrugs. "I will not betray Kayla's trust. Would you do any differently?"
"I…" My words leave me. For he is right. I would not betray Kayla. And hurting this man, sacrificing this man, would be a betrayal above others. And even Varis urged against doing the bidding of the Darkness, a warning I do not take lightly.
"So, do I have to be worried?" I ask with a raised eyebrow.
He eyes me cautiously. "Worried?"
"When I don't deliver you to the Wraith, will it come after me?"
He shrugs. "Perhaps. But she is strongest in places of power. She will try to lure you to one before she attacks."
Places like Raven Rock. "So, I just need to avoid following strangers. Seems easy enough."
"She may not always appear as a stranger." There's a dread in his words. A primal fear.
And then someone slams two tankards down in front of us.
Dean.
"Why so gloomy, boys? Oh, wait, wait, I know. It's because you're not drinking. Drink." He sits down at the table with us and gulps down the syrupy liquid.
I suppose with Niam gone, I can indulge a bit. I raise my tankard to Tavian. "For Kayla."
He clanks his cup to mine. "For Kayla."
We drink.
And then we drink some more.
Eventually, I lose count.
And Tavian and I begin to speak more openly. "I heard you slayed a Dreadclaw," says the Fae. "What a battle that must have been."
Dean looks puzzled. "Dreadclaw?"
"He means the Grey Beast," I say.
Tavian shrugs. "Grey Beast. Dreadclaw. Different names from different places, but the thing is the same. Please, you must tell me the tale."
"Well, I—"
"He doesn't speak of it," says Dean. "But my brothers and I all know the legend. Fenris scaled the Grey Mountain with nothing but a spear. And at the top, he found the Grey Beast, its body more bone than flesh, its breath cold as ice. The beast charged my brother. And then Fenris leaped into the air. Like a devil he flew with the winds. And then he rammed his spear into the monster's head. In one single blow did the great beast fall. And Fenris stood untouched."
Tavian's eyes go wide. "Amazing. Did it truly happen like this?'
"More or less," I grumble, not wanting to go into the very real and different details. "How about we…" My words slur more than usual. My head grows fuzzy.
Something is wrong.
I try to stand, but instead I fall forward, my face slamming into the counter. I look up. At Tavian. His eyes glaze over. He falls.
Only Dean stands tall. Dean. Who gave us the drinks.
"I'm sorry, brother, but I knew you would never approve. It will seem as if you fell asleep from too much drink. You will wake here shortly. But Tavian is coming with me."
***
I am in dreams. In a land where there is no earth beneath my feet. No horizon before my eyes. My body feels ethereal. There is a lightness to my being. A lightness I have felt once before.
And she is there.
Radiant. Glowing.
Her white hair flicking in a wind I do not feel.
She hums a tune I recognize. Sad and lonely.
When she looks at me, she makes no sound, and yet I hear her words.
You are my heir.
The heir. The heir. The heir.
Her voice is not alone.
And when she turns, stepping aside, I see him. A figure in shadow.
I reach for him.
And I whisper.
"Father?"
***
"No!" I roar, jumping to my feet in the ballroom, the table before me disheveled from my violent reemergence into the world of the conscious.
Dean stumbles back, his eyes wide and bewildered. He drops Tavian to the ground. The people around us, the vampires dressed in gowns and the Fae dressed in slave's outfits freeze, turning to us, waiting to see what happens next.
"Impossible," Dean whispers. Then he raises his arms in surrender. "Now, now, brother. I was only doing what needed to be done. For Arianna. For all of us. So how about we calm down?"
It is because he asks me to be calm that I let rage fill me. I am tired of being told how to be. Tired of Dean controlling me with his potions. Tired of Asher trying to tell me how to rule. Tired of Niam trying to force my hand. So no. I will not be calm. I am the Prince of War.
I charge forward, grabbing Dean by the throat and pinning him against a wall. "You will not drug me again, brother. Nor will you touch Tavian. Or your fate will be the same one I promised Niam."
He squirms in my grip, clutching at his throat. "I… fine. I promise. I won't."
I let go. And he falls to the ground, coughing and spitting.
I turn to my other brother. Asher. "And you. You do not rule in my stead. You do not throw parties I do not allow. You do not invite princes I have not approved. Do you understand?"