Aurora's Promise (31 page)

He lowered the items to a side table and then sat in the
chair his father had indicated. “As if you haven’t heard,” he said. “I’ve never
known Mother to be far behind news. And what she knows, you know.”

His father’s dissenting grunt contradicted Connyn’s statement.
“I know what she wants me to know.”

“Then you know my mate set the Hall of Council on fire.”

“Without burning a single person or item. Neat trick.”

“Not tricks. Magic.”

His father smiled. “Of course.”

Connyn stood. “Excuse me, Father, but—”

“You are not excused!” The edge to his father’s voice
startled Connyn. He hadn’t heard that tone for ages. His father stood and
glared down at him. “You may be the Heir, but I am still the ruling Head of the
Third House.” Cyn crossed his arms over his chest, all levity in his face gone.
“Now explain this foolishness,” he said, looking down at the jeweled crest,
medallion, dagger and sword Connyn had placed on the table.

Connyn crossed his own arms, ready to stand against his
father if the need arose. “My failure is not a matter of foolishness, but a
grave disappointment and embarrassment to our House and ancestors.”

“Define this failure.”

Heat flamed under Connyn’s skin. His jaw clenched. Aurora
had often complained about his dictatorial mannerisms. Once she spent more time
with his father, she’d know he came by them honestly.

His father’s voice cut through his thoughts. “Now.”

“I failed to bring home one of Magdalyne’s daughters. Failed
to claim as a mate a Mystic. The Royal line cannot continue through me. I have
taken a mate who cannot bear children.”

“She’s asked to be released from her vows?”

“No.” Not exactly. Yelling about out-clauses wasn’t an
official request, even if done while holding the entire Council against the
wall with magic.

“And you? You’ve released her from yours?”

“No!” The anger that surged through his response shocked
him. He swallowed it back. “I can’t.”

He stood at attention while his father studied him. “Why did
you take her before the Council?”

“For their blessing.”

“Why was the blessing important to you?”

Connyn curled his fingers into his palms and his biceps
bulged as he lifted his fists and then slowly lowered them. “After the Mating
Rite, our minds were not linked. She has not conceived.” He drew in a deep
breath. “I have to face the reality that my mate may never conceive and that
the honor of fathering the next generation must be passed to another.” He
gestured to the items on the table. “I brought the necessary items for the
transition ceremony.”

“I see. So for sixteen generations, the gods have allowed
our line to continue from father to son until now. The gods are so variable
that on the eve of the prophecy we have lived to fulfill and so erase our
shame, the gods curse us yet again? Refuse to allow us to atone for our
ancestral sins?” He paused and held Connyn’s gaze. “Your mother would be shamed
if you truly believed that.”

Blood pounded at the back of Connyn’s eyes as he stared past
his father and into the small courtyard beyond. “What other explanation could
there be? We both know the prophecy. I had two futures before me, each tied to
the mate chosen by the gods. But I did not take a Mystic mate. I didn’t even
take a mate of Ilyrian descent.”

“You are assuming there can only be one explanation of a
prophecy that is vague at best. Furthermore, you are assuming your personal
interpretation is wholly immutable.”

Connyn held his peace as the fury raged within. He would not
further disgrace his father by contradicting him.

“Tell me, how did Aurora come to be in Ilyria?” Cyn asked.

“She made a promise to Esraina.”

“Esraina. The sister it was your intention to find.”

“My intention, yes.”

“The prophecy said that your success or failure was tied to
Magdalyne’s next daughter and her next daughter was Esraina. Is this not true?”

Connyn replied with a curt nod. “We both know it is. But—”
he held up a hand to forestall his father’s next comment before he could
finish. “Aurora is
not
a Mystic. She cannot pass down our powers to a
child, even if we should have one.”

“The only reason our world is limited to the Mystics passing
down powers is a direct result of the curse we brought upon ourselves. In all
your travels, have you had such limited exposure to think that Ilyrian Mystics
are the only Mystics in the worlds? The only line in all the universes able to
pass magic from generation to generation?”

His father’s sarcasm was rarely subtle and the only expected
response was silence. A rule Connyn was more than happy to abide by at the
moment.

Cyn turned and stared out the same window that had held
Connyn’s attention, giving his back to his son. “How did you discover her
ability to wield magic?”

“She revealed it to me.”

“Of her own will?”

“Yes. Mostly.”

His father did not turn around as he waited for him to
explain.

“It was through a brief mental connection. It didn’t hold.”

Seeming to ignore this last statement, his father turned and
picked up the ceremonial dagger. He held it in a ray of sunshine coming through
the window, turning it and making the thin blade flash. “The Council approves
of her. It wasn’t unanimous, but the majority was clear.”

“What?”

“Zyen especially liked her. Found her to be an excellent
match for you.”

He’d never known his father to joke, but he couldn’t believe
he was serious. “She was the one who pointed out that Aurora wasn’t a Mystic.”

His father shrugged as he tested the sharpness of the dagger’s
edge. “Prophets. Not the most tactful or clear at times. They forget that some
things they know instinctively can come as a shock to those not so enlightened.”

“But Aurora’s magic is different from ours. The prophecies
state that the magic is to be manifested only in male heirs. She’s a woman and
her magic is manifested strongly. What if the magic is passed down only to
daughters and not to sons? We cannot take the chance with the destiny of our
world hanging in the balance.”

His father replaced the dagger on the table and then looked
back up at him. “The prophecies don’t say
only
, they say
is
when
they get specific at all. Most just assume that’s the way it will be because
that’s the way it is. But at one point in our history Ilyrian power wasn’t
limited to males or Royals. Though the Five Brothers ultimately brought down
the final curse on this world, they had several generations before them making
unwise and selfish decisions. One of those decisions was to limit powers to
certain lines. More specifically, their lines and their sons only in an attempt
to control destiny. There hadn’t been a firstborn daughter generations before
The Five as a result.”

Connyn stared at his father, trying to assimilate
this
history
with the one he grew up learning. “Why weren’t we taught this?”

“History is a tricky thing when married with politics. I
learned my lesson early on not to reveal everything I knew when it diverged
from commonly held beliefs. Our ancestors worked very hard to rewrite or remove
much of our history and so cleanse their sins from their descendants’ view.
There are very few who would choose to challenge long-held traditions at this
point.”

“But if it is the truth—”

Cyn glared at Connyn and cut him off. “Then you do what you
must to bring it to light. In its time. Our race used to be one of the most
powerful in existence. Men and women ruled with powers unseen in most worlds.
When our ancestors limited powers only to themselves, they weakened our race
considerably and left many outlying villages and towns exposed and vulnerable.
Portals were left unguarded which allowed the Sleht to settle in our world.
Though they had no magic in the beginning, they were smart and knew how to
manipulate powers against one another.
And
they were very intent on
taking what was once fully ours.”

Cyn paused and picked up the medallion that rested at the
top of the pile of regalia. Turning it over in his hand, he said, “That is
still their goal.”

Connyn said nothing for a long time and his father allowed
him his silence.

“If we’re living a lie,” Connyn said finally, “then the
prophecy has no chance of succeeding. If there really is any truth to this
prophecy at all.”

Amusement ghosted over his father’s face. “You sound like me
when I was your age and first uncovered a document that veered from the
official accounts of our history. It’s a wonder your mother found the patience
to put up with me all these years.” He waved away Connyn’s frown and walked out
on the balcony, looking up to watch a flock of birds circle slowly across the
sky, moving from one perch to another.

“Do you know why I rise so early with your mother every day?”

Connyn joined him and leaned against the ornate stone and
metal railing. Until his father asked the question, he had thought his
interview was at an end. “To watch the sun rise.”

“Yes, but why to watch the sun rise?”

Connyn frowned. “It’s a custom you two have shared since I
can remember.”

“Yet you never questioned it.”

“It never occurred to me to question it. Even apart, you
both rose and stood to witness the sun’s rising.” He shrugged. “Growing up, I
was just happy I wasn’t required to join you.”

His father smiled briefly and then his expression turned
serious once more. “The day after our Mating Celebration, I brought your mother
here in preparation for the annual Gathering to present her publicly. I had
business to take care of in Vystral and we left her home earlier than we would
have otherwise. We had argued bitterly over her coming with me because her
youngest sister was due to give birth within days. She had wanted to stay
behind until the baby was born and join me with her parents when they followed
later for the Gathering. But I was anxious to see her established in my house
and was quite cruel in my insistence that she accompany me. I invoked the Royal
Rights as her mate and Head of the Third House of Kilth and left her with no
real choice in the matter. The next day, her village was attacked by the Sleht
and her entire family slaughtered.”

Connyn had known about the death of his mother’s family, but
not the details. He was surprised by his father’s candid statements and even
more by the sound of regret in his father’s voice. “So you saved her.”

Cyn looked back up into the now empty sky. “She didn’t see
it that way. She told me that I had robbed her of her family. She believed that
if she had been there, she would have fought with them, perhaps saved some. She
was—is—an amazing warrior when tested.”

He’d seen hints of his mother’s abilities in this area as he’d
grown, but never to the extent that engendered the reverence his father was
according them. His father sighed and turned the medallion over in his hand.
Catching the sunlight, the
rythra’s
center glowed as if it were alive.

“At the very least,” Cyn said, “she held me responsible for
denying her her true destiny of dying beside them. We received the news
midmorning and that day she walked to the top of that hill.” He pointed at the
tallest of hills that ringed the outer limits of the city. “The entire way, she
didn’t say a word. Didn’t look at me or acknowledge my or any other’s presence.

“Once she reached the top of the hill, she simply stopped
and stared into the distance, in the direction of the town where she’d grown
up, knowing it still burned as she stood. Through the night, silent tears ran
down her face but she would receive no solace or admonition I offered. When the
sun rose, she returned to the city. For a year, she walked to the same hill in
darkness to face the sun when it rose, never explaining why. Never crying
again.”

With care, he set the medallion on the flat top of the stone
post and placed his hands on either side of it, leaning heavily on the railing.
As he continued his story, he stared down at the heritage stone. Connyn
wondered if he was even seeing it anymore or if his eyes were only beholding
images from the past.

“The last day, when the sun rose marking the anniversary of
her family’s death, tears ran down her cheeks again. As the sun crested the
horizon and its first rays touched her face, she turned and smiled at me with a
smile of such mixed hope and sorrow that to this day whenever I remember it and
what she said afterward…”

His father’s words faded into an impenetrable silence,
cloaked by memories and shadows so deep, Connyn could feel their presence even
if he could not see them.

Slowly, Cyn shook his head, looking up from the medallion to
focus on some distant spot on the horizon. “She told me she was pregnant and
had even been to the priestess to confirm it the day before. She also told me
that until that morning, she’d been coming to the hill every day praying to
die, praying for the sun not to rise on a destiny she did not want.”

An invisible fist slammed into Connyn’s stomach and he
struggled to breathe. “She didn’t want me? Or you?”

Cyn’s release of breath was labored as he continued to stare
out into the distance. “So many years ago and still the thought of what I came
so very close to losing nearly kills me.”

Connyn was about to demand an answer to his question when
his father turned to look at him. The fierce, unfathomable pain in his dark
eyes sharply checked Connyn’s anger.

“Oh she wanted you. Very much. We both did. Never question
that. Those words shook you even after all this time you’ve known the depth of
her care for you. When she spoke them to me that morning I was…beyond shocked.

“Through our entire first year together she accepted her
role as my mate in every obvious outward manner. Any of her emotional distance
I took the time to notice I just assumed was her
adjusting
to royal life
or caused because we hadn’t conceived immediately as was the custom.”