He didn't have to claim her. She didn't want anything from him. She only wanted to convince him that she hadn't tried to assassinate him. She wouldn't do such a thing.
The key scraped.
The door swung open.
The king walked in slowly.
Repentance jumped up and bowed her head.
Two guards made to follow him.
"Leave us," he said.
The guards glanced at each other like they thought he might be crazy, but they obeyed.
Repentance stared at him in awe. Her father.
The king's look was not friendly. "Tigen told me you wanted to show me your birthmark."
"I don't need to show you. You already know it's there."
He didn't look like a father should look. He didn't look happy.
"When did you discover it?" he asked, sternly.
Why was he glaring at her?
Why did it matter when she discovered the birthmark?
"I've had it all my life," she said, stalling.
"You try my patience, Repentance. Why show me now? What do you think it means?"
A flash of insight came. If she told him she just found out that she was his daughter, he might think she tried to kill him, not knowing ... never suspecting she was trying to kill her own father.
"I know what it means. I've known all along. Ever since you told me my mother was a beautiful woman. I figured it out then."
"What precisely did you figure out?"
Were those tears sparkling in his eyes? Maybe he did love her. "I figured out that you're my father. And however cold you think me, surely you must know I would never kill my own father. Your Highness—Father—I never tried to assassinate you."
He smiled a sad smile. "I could not sentence you these last three days, because I couldn't see that you had any motive to assassinate me. You are impetuous and you often strike out in anger with no apparent logic. But this assassination was planned."
She nodded. "I never planned to kill you. I found the assassin in the—"
"But now you admit you did have motive. You thought you were my daughter. You planned to kill me and ascend to the throne, so you could free your people." He sighed. "We both know you have little love for me. You think I'm a murderer because I won't change the laws. Because I won't free the slaves, you hold me responsible for the death of every runner who ever met up with the swingman. I was heartbroken when Tigen came to me this afternoon. I wanted to believe you hadn't tried to kill me. I'd grown fond of you, young Repentance, your stubborn temper notwithstanding."
She shook her head. "I ... don't ... I wouldn't—"
"But my fondness for you was what blinded me. I don't know you. I don't know anything about your character. If I look with eyes of reason instead of emotion, I see that you have been a liar from the start. And you've hated me from the start. I wish it wasn't this way, but wanting a thing doesn't make it so." He shook his head sadly then turned to leave.
"You will watch your own daughter swing?"
He looked back at her. "You aren't my daughter."
She stared at him, her mouth open but no words making their way out.
"Your father's name was Lord Baldin. He was the son of my sister. A beloved nephew and a trusted friend."
"Baldin?"
"You have his nose."
She touched her nose.
"We went to the Hot Springs for healing. He was out walking in the woods one morning, and he met your mother. They spent two weeks together."
A fist squeezed her heart. "Not you?"
"He loved her. He planned to go back and take her away to Montphilo where there are no slaves and no one cares who an overlord buttons."
She wasn't supposed to be a slave. She was supposed to have grown up free in Montphilo. She was never meant for the fog and the swamp.
"Before he could go back for her, he was killed. By a runaway slave." He shook his head and gave a bitter laugh. "Yes, you were sentenced to a life of slavery, by a runaway slave. As soon as I saw you, I knew. You look very like your mother, but with your father's nose. For your father's sake, I wanted to love you. Baldin would have wanted it. And I did love you some. You made me laugh ... you made me angry ... you made me young."
"I didn't try to kill you," she whispered.
The look in his eyes turned to steel. "You thought I was your father all that time and you never once spoke to me of the matter. Never hugged me. Never gave me any indication that you loved me. Only now, when you fear dying, you show me your birthmark. You've never wanted me for a father. You've only tried to use me to gain what you wanted." He pushed the door open and walked out.
She lay on her lava cloth, clicking gray buttons in her hand and humming one of her mother's favorite tunes until the lump in her throat made humming impossible. Tears overflowed her eyes. What she wouldn't give to hear her mother's assurances that all would be well in the end. A sob tore itself loose from her soul.
Oh, holy Providence, she'd made a mess of things. Trying to be so smart and never quite pulling it off. She was out of ideas. Nothing would come out right now, regardless of her mother's predictions.
After a time, her sobbing subsided. She scrubbed her wet, chapped face with her sleeve and fell asleep.
An old slave woman came and woke her. The next day? Repentance didn't know. She was parched as if she'd not had a drink
