Relief and astonishment dried out his tongue. Ban sipped the wine again, staring at Connley.
“Well, Ban?” Connley prompted.
“I … I never meant to be Errigal, or a leader of men,” he said, stalling.
Both Regan and the duke smiled identical sleek smiles.
Blood rushed in Ban’s ears, rather like the furious whispers of a forest. He wanted to smile with them, exactly like that. They were completely united, as Ban had never been in his life, with anyone. Not his parents, not his brother, not Morimaros. Elia, almost, perhaps, but she had been taken away before they could make anything as complete as this.
“As far as we are concerned,” Connley said, “you are already Errigal. Your father is vexing in his grief, a drain on this Keep and unfit to look past his personal stake to the greater ones of Innis Lear. He is inextricably attached to the wretched once-king. It will only be a moment before this earl steps beyond his means and we, in our power as Connley and as heir to Lear’s crown, will instate you. We care not for your bastardy. Your actions prove better than your stars.”
“My lord,” Ban said, unable to find further words. Only Mars had ever so directly discounted the circumstances of Ban’s birth.
“And more,” Regan said, her eyebrow lifting elegantly. “We offer you our youngest sister, furthering the alliance.”
“Elia?” he breathed. “She is in Aremoria. She will marry Morimaros.”
“We have counseled her not to, for it would weaken Innis Lear’s position. And Elia loves this island. She never before wished to leave it, and never would have, we think, had not our father driven her away in his addled state.” A wrinkle appeared about her nose, the only sign of Regan’s disgust. “Elia will return home, make no mistake, and when she does, she would be a good wife for the powerful Earl Errigal. A tempting offer to you both, because she loved you, once.”
Though some part of him was sure he was being manipulated, Ban could not help wanting all she offered. It was greater and more ambitious than anything he’d dreamed of, to be at Connley and Regan’s side when King Lear breathed his last, to welcome Elia home and then have her for his own. His wife. To share with her the way these two shared with each other, in heart and body and mind. Legitimately. To put down roots together here on Innis Lear—where with Regan and Connley—the island would thrive, the stars cease to command.
Drunk more on wishes than wine, Ban’s head spun. He tried to imagine himself as an earl, rather than a wizard; a man at the center, not a boy on the outside, or a spy set apart. But for Ban to be Errigal, Rory could never be pardoned. This lie that he was a patricide must remain.
Caught up in the heat of his hopes, Ban reminded himself that there were always casualties of war, as he knew far better than Rory. His brother had served only as idle commander, while Ban had been sent as cannon fodder. Before he’d saved himself, proven useful to another, better king. What sweet revenge it would be upon the hated Lear for Ban the Bastard to father precious Elia’s children. Morimaros be damned.
With his wine halfway to his mouth again, Ban froze in sudden horror.
Elia was not his to long for. Her children were not his to claim. What would she feel if she heard Ban’s thoughts? He had wanted her to choose him, wanted to be chosen by her. She was not a pup easily traded between kennels, as Ban had been. She was meant to be prized—not just as a daughter or sister or wife should have been, but on her own. As herself. Ban swallowed and lowered his goblet so it rested on his thigh. He thought of Elia’s face, the night of the Zenith Court. Who are you? And then, who was Ban? Two nobodies. What did he want?
What a magnificent mess swirling around him.
Morimaros wanted him here to gain Errigal’s iron for trade at the least, and prepare for an Aremore invasion if possible. Likely wanted Ban at his side, in case of a war, and even if Mars got Elia for his queen, he would expect his best spy to protect them both with his knowledge, if not his magic. Kay Oak wanted Ban to be a bridge between the sisters, and between their lords, until Elia could be brought home as queen, in accord with her father’s mad heart. But Kayo had no further plans for Ban, and Ban had no interest in following the Oak Earl’s path, forsaking his own life for the plans of Lear. Regan saw Ban’s magic, as Mars did, but she saw beyond its usefulness to her. She understood it. She believed in it, and loved the roots and forests as he did. And she and her lord wanted him to unseat his own despised father, to marry Elia, and serve Innis Lear through his own heart. As himself.
He did not know if Elia wanted him at all, for anything.
Ban glanced up at Regan, then expanded the look to her husband. “I will join you. But not to win Elia’s hand, or even to earn my father’s title, which will be at your service still. I will do it because it is right for Innis Lear.”
Even as he said it, the Fox was not sure if he meant to betray Mars, or only to embed himself deeper where he’d been planted.
Regan rose, her brown eyes glittering, and she came to him. She took his goblet and set it aside. As Connley watched, she pulled Ban to his feet and put her mouth against his. She tasted sweet and sharp, her lips like flower petals, her tongue darting. It felt more like an earth saint’s blessing than a woman’s kiss.
Then she drew away. “You
