“And I tried to stop you from reaching Longmachlag.”
“The fever? That was you?” Kaetha laughed. “You thought that would stop me from going with the Order. We were about to part with them but my illness persuaded everyone that I needed Kahina’s help.”
“That was an error on my part.”
“You control and manipulate and call that ‘protecting’.”
“But I watched over you. I wouldn’t have let you board a ship. Then, after, I tried to get you to come with me and I warned you not to come here. Why did you? Surely you realised how dangerous it would be? Why offer up your life to save a man who rejected your mother, who didn’t want to be a father to you? You could have found your aunt and left the country. I would have helped you.” Her voice became strained. Kaetha wondered if she was showing real sympathy for her. “Why did you do it?”
Kaetha drew close to the bars, her hands cold as they wrapped around iron. “Will you help me?” she ventured. “Help get me out.”
Meraud looked into her eyes for some moments and Kaetha’s heart leapt with rekindled hope. Then Meraud’s old icy demeanour stiffened her features and, in that moment, Kaetha realised that she was using her own magic to suppress her emotions, to freeze her compassion. “I cannot,” she whispered. “He has to trust me.”
Kaetha struck iron with her fist. “You’re just as much of a monster as he is.”
“Shh,” said Meraud, turning. “He’s coming.”
Meraud seemed to have heard his footsteps before Kaetha had. When the king finally emerged from the shadowy corridor, he fixed Meraud with a look of surprise. Kaetha noticed that she looked different now that the king was here. She stood taller, the hint of a smile caught at the corners of her lips and she exuded a calm confidence.
“How did you know she was here?” he said.
“I spoke with the lad from Braddon,” said Meraud. Alarmed, Kaetha thought of Donnan, wondering what had happened. Meraud’s glance brushed over her. “Macomrag I believe is his name. I think you underestimate him. You cannot doubt his loyalty.”
Svelrik grunted. “Well, what do you say?” He gestured to Kaetha. “I have her now, after all this time.”
Meraud bowed her head. “Congratulations, Your Grace. I wished to see for myself. I can confirm that she is the same person I held at Neul Carraig.”
“If only my man had succeeded in smuggling her out as we planned, this would all have been much easier.”
Meraud smiled. “Though less interesting perhaps. May I take my leave, Your Grace?”
Svelrik waved his permission for her to go and she bowed before disappearing down the corridor.
Then Svelrik entered the cell again and Kaetha was alone with the man who had killed her mother. She stood up, despite the pain screaming through her wounded flesh. He stared at her and she stared back. He didn’t move or blink. She kept expecting him to talk but he remained silent, just watching her, his gaze like cold fingers creeping over her skin.
“So here we are. Alone at last,” he said, at length. “I knew you would come. Though, I must say, I’m disappointed. I was told your power was strong. I thought that you would be a fly most difficult to catch. But you buzzed more loudly than you realised.” He pushed back his sleeve, absently running a finger over the Water stone in its gold setting. “Your magic blares out as if you have no control over it. It woke me. It led me right to you. Your undisciplined power has proved your downfall.”
Guilt weighed down on her. Her father had only been caught again because he had been with her. If she had gone off with Tam to try to steal the Water stone when he had suggested, perhaps her father would have got away with Donnan.
“I wonder if it was luck or fate that brought your father here,” Svelrik continued. “Macomrag told me about you and your strange Fire magic, which I’m sure he exaggerated. Still, I suspected he was referring to the same person who attacked my men with fire last year.” He came close to her now, looking deep into her eyes. “I know it was you,” he whispered. “But I need hardly have been concerned. Look at you – a small, weak, powerless bastard. I’m right aren’t I? You’re Morwena Trylenn’s bastard. I always remember a face and yours looks remarkably like hers. You forget, I knew her.”
“I know you knew my mother. I know you killed her in cold blood.”
There was a slight twitch beneath one of his eyes as if this knowledge of hers surprised him. Then a smile curled a corner of his mouth.
“You tortured my father,” she continued. “You murdered hundreds of innocent people on those ships. You make magic a crime and have healers executed whilst you wield your own magic to terrorise and kill.”
Svelrik stared at her, neither confessing nor denying.
“And you murdered your own father, the king.”
His face hardened. “I have always served Dalrath first.”
She snorted.
“I did what needed to be done. Do you honestly think that the earls and thanes would have had Rhona as their leader – a woman who would be a mere puppet of her Shamlakahn husband?”
“The earls you killed would have. And she wouldn’t have been a puppet.”
“A woman on the throne would mean weak government. Rhona’s Tyrrosian cousin would have tried to seize the throne for himself. There would have been war and whatever the outcome, Dalrath would be ruled by a foreign land. Power came to me for a reason. I’m the only one who can give this country stability.”
“I think you mean tyranny.” Pain burst across her face, her head flung to the side as
