Storm Without End (Requiem for the Rift King Book 1) (24 page)

Silence answered him. Kalen stared through the trees, but couldn’t make out much through the mists that the morning warmth hadn’t quite managed to burn away. The urge to cough increased with each breath, and he cleared his throat to ease it. “I trust that is a sufficient answer for you?”

“Are you planning on going to Elenrune, then?”

“I’m thinking about it.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“It’s more of an answer than you deserve.” Kalen tried to flex his fingers in the cast and winced at the pain that shot up his arm. “It’s not like you even needed to ask me. I’m a convenient hostage until my hand heals. I’m not quite that stupid to traverse enemy territory when I can’t hold a sword.”

“That wasn’t my plan,” his sire said before letting out a long sigh.

“But convenient, regardless.”

“I’m not your enemy, and Kelsh isn’t enemy territory, Kalen.”

“Everyone’s an enemy, Lord Delorse. That is just a part of who and what I am. Idealistic beliefs like that would’ve left me fodder for the nibblers years ago.”

“Even your Guardians?”

Kalen shrugged his left shoulder and glanced down at the empty sleeve. Had it been luck or intention that he had just enough of an arm left to have a shoulder at all, rather than an empty socket? “The first person to try to kill me was a Guardian.”

“Surely not!”

“Do you know how a Rift horse passes judgment?” he asked.

“No.”

“Tavener crushed that Guardian’s skull until all that remained of his head was a smear on the stones. It isn’t a matter of if they’ll turn on me. It’s a matter of when.”

~~*~~

“We’re almost there,” Lord Delrose said. After almost an hour of silence, the sound of his sire’s voice sent chills crawling over Kalen’s skin. “This is where we’ll walk, else the children will think Satrin is a plaything rather than the dignified Yadesh that he is.”

Satrin halted and both of the golden ears twisted back. His sire dismounted first. Then, with the same grace as a Rift horse, the Yadesh knelt so Kalen could slide off of the broad back. He bowed his head in thanks.

“Children?” he asked.

“Your brothers and sisters, of course.”

“Ah, your family.”

“They’re yours too, Satoren.”

Kalen stilled at the name and frowned. His sire’s blue eyes met his. “I’ve no place or part within your family. Get used to that idea. My name is Kalen. Do I need to spell it for you?”

“Do you really think you’re going to be able to hide the truth? One look at your face and they’ll know who you are. The only thing you inherited from your mother was her ears. You
have
looked in a mirror, haven’t you?” His sire crossed his arms over his chest and glowered down at him.

Kalen wrinkled his nose. “I am aware. Doesn’t mean I have to like it, though. Live your comfortable, sheltered little lives and spare your family from the reality of who and what I am.”

Lord Delrose let out a long, low sigh. “Who and what are you, then, that you feel like you can’t be a part of our family? You’ve fine young men who call you father. A lot of them, from what I understand.”

“I am, and always will be, the Rift King. There is one thing that all Rift Kings share, Lord Delrose.” He almost laughed. There wasn’t a reason to tell his sire anything. There wasn’t a reason to trust the man.

There also wasn’t a reason not to.

“What do they all share, then? Your cryptic nature is tiresome, son.”

The laugh burst out of him and a cough chased at its heels. He cleared his throat. An itch formed in his nose and throat, and he swallowed back the need to sneeze. “We’re monsters, each and every one of us. Kill or be killed. That’s the game, and each and every man and woman plays their part. There’s only one rule. That’s to leave me alone while in my study. Most people even abide by it. Well, that aren’t Outsiders. They don’t care for the Code. How long do you think it’ll be before your family is attacked
again
because of my presence?”

“It’s a risk worth taking.”

“Your idealistic way of thinking is going to get your family hurt. Or worse.”

“It wouldn’t hurt you to be a little more idealistic!”

Kalen shook his head. “It isn’t my role to be idealistic. That’s for those who can look at themselves today and consider what they want to be tomorrow. My job is to try to make sure those idealistic fools have that tomorrow. I could change. I could stop looking over my shoulder for the next person wanting my head. I’m too small to make a suitable feast for nibblers.”

Lord Delrose stared at him, shook his head, and let out another sigh. “I’d have better luck conversing with a rock.”

“You would. I don’t know what you’re scheming, and frankly, I don’t care. I’m here long enough to evaluate this situation between Danar and Kelsh. Then I’m going home in the most direct route possible.” A sneeze caught him by surprise, and he sniffled. “Before this wretchedly cold wasteland finishes me off.”

“We’ll do it your way, then. But don’t expect your mother to relent as easily as me. Let’s get this over with. Come along. Step lively, if you can.”

Kalen felt his brows arch high, and he trailed after his sire. He adopted a neutral expression. Satrin plodded along at his side, and the Yadesh’s golden eye focused on him. “Sorry for the trouble,” he muttered to the creature.

A nod answered him, and both of the creature’s ears pricked forward.

The path opened up to a small clearing. A cottage built from rough-hewn logs was surrounded by a railed porch. Dark-haired figures sat on a bench and leaned against the home. Heads turned to stare at his sire.

“Father!” A voice boomed out. “You’re late. We were getting worried.”

“Sorry, Aden. We were a bit delayed.”

“We?”

Kalen froze and tensed. Lord Delrose gestured to him. “This is the Rift King, Kalen.”

“Kalen Alkasatoren,” he said, swallowing back the need to cough. No one broke the silence that fell and he took the time to look over those who descended from the porch and approached across the clearing. While none of them were exact copies of Lord Delrose, the resemblance was undeniable, even among the five girls that followed in the wake of the four men and two younger boys. As they drew closer, it was their eyes caught Kalen’s attention. Unlike his pale blue, theirs were the shade of a sapphire, dark, deep, and lit with the morning light.

“He looks just like you, Father,” the youngest of them said, pointing at Kalen. “Kings are supposed to have
two
arms. You’ve only got one.”

“Welis!” his sire boomed out.

Kalen’s lip twitched up into a smile. “What if I told you a monster ate it?”

“A
monster
?” The boy’s eyes widened. “What kind of monster?”

“It’d have to be a pretty big one, don’t you think?” he replied.

“No, it wouldn’t. You’re not much taller than me.”

“You’re being rude, Welis!” one of the taller boys scolded. Welis ducked beneath the hand that reached out to grab him.

Kalen cleared his throat and forced away his smile.

“I see you like children,” his sire muttered.

“I’d have to, to deal with how many I’ve got at home,” he replied, fighting against the urge to laugh. “Introduce us, then.”

“This is Aden, my eldest, and this is Bevin, Rorick, Nolan, and Welis,” his sire said, gesturing to each of the boys in turn, ordering them by their height. “This is Glacia, Aerelle, Krissia, Jezaline,and Prella.”

In turn, the dark-haired girls curtsied.

“Your Majesty,” Glacia murmured. Kalen acknowledged her gesture with a small nod of his head.

“A pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

Puzzled glances answered him, and the family stared at him, then at Lord Delrose, then back at him again. Kalen wanted to grin at their expressions, but he swallowed back the desire.

“Where is your mother?”

“In the cottage,” Aden said. “We were evicted about an hour ago. She’s a little displeased with you, Father.”

Lord Delrose flinched, and Kalen bit his lower lip to stop his vindictive grin.

“I will go speak with her, then. Please keep our guest company.”

“Of course, Father.”

With a nod, his sire hurried across the clearing and vanished into the cottage.

“Are you
really
the Rift King?” one of the men asked, and Kalen turned. He narrowed his eyes a moment and focused on the memory of the introduction and gave a nod.

“Yes, Bevin, I am.” Unlike Aden, Bevin had a slightly softer jawline covered with a light, patchy beard. Bevin’s eyes widened.

“But you belong in the Rift!”

Kalen tried to clench his hand into a fist, but the cast prevented the movement. It didn’t stop the jolts of pain that shot through his arm. “I keep trying to tell Lord Delrose that, but he doesn’t want to listen.”

A brief outburst of laughter answered him. The girls stared at him. He considered them in turn. A faint memory in the back of his mind roused when he looked at Aden, but he had no recollection of the others.

Brothers and sisters, yet strangers.

Lord Delrose emerged from the cottage. Kalen recognized the blue-clad woman following him. His mother. The years hadn’t changed her much, which surprised him almost as much as her pale skin and wide-eyed expression.

Kalen clenched his teeth together and glared at his sire. The man shrugged a shoulder.

“What did you tell her?” he growled out.

“Nothing more than the truth, Rift King.”

Anger flared through him. The pain of flexing his fingers didn’t ease his desire to throttle his sire. Too many eyes stared at them, and without exception, were partnered with suspicious frowns.

Lord Delrose had been right. With his face, hiding the truth was an impossibility.

He sighed and spoke in the Rift tongue, “I should throw you into the deeps for this, Delrose.”

“I suppose you’d be justified in that,” his sire replied, following his lead in language. “Had I known you’d gone there, I would’ve taught them your language.”

She stepped forward, and Kalen tensed, his foot sliding back on the dew-slicked grass. Lord Delrose cleared his throat, and it took every bit of Kalen’s will to relax his stance.

“So it’s true,” his mother said. Unlike his sire, her accent wasn’t as thick.

“It depends on what he told you,” Kalen replied, glancing at his sire out of the corner of his eye.

“You’re the Rift King,” she said, lifting her chin and staring down the length of her nose at him. Her blue eyes glittered with the same hard, unyielding quality of a jewel. “You’re my son.”

Kalen ground his teeth together. Denying it was a pointless endeavor. No two men could look so alike without blood tying them together. And even if he did deny it, he couldn’t blame her for what his sire had done. It wasn’t until his lungs started to burn with the need for air that he realized he was holding his breath.

The sigh came out as a short huff of air. “I am guilty of both charges, I suppose.”

“You
suppose
?” His mother’s voice rose in pitch until it cracked.

“I warned you,” his sire said. His mother turned away to glare at Lord Delrose.

Kalen cleared his throat and scowled just to keep from grinning.

“If it hadn’t been for your foolishness, I wouldn’t have needed warning in the first place. What have you to say for yourself?” His mother asked, switching back to Kelshite.

“I did bring him to you,” Lord Delrose replied in a weak voice.

“In a cast! I’ve seen corpses with a better complexion. You didn’t tell me our guest was the Rift King! You didn’t tell me that he’s…”

His sire flushed. “Erissa, it isn’t what you think!”

“It isn’t?” His mother didn’t raise her voice, but Kalen winced at the venom in her tone. The two started to talk in a whisper.

Aden cleared his throat. Kalen met his brother’s eyes and arched a brow. “What is it?”

“Who are you?” Aden asked in a whisper.

“If you’re asking that question, you already know the truth of it,” he replied, turning his head to look up into his brother’s eyes.

Surprise silenced the words poised on the tip of his tongue. Instead of the anger and suspicion Kalen expected, there were only tears.

~~*~~

Twelve pairs of eyes stared at him. Kalen straightened, lifted his chin, and refused to look away. His past stared back at him, and he wouldn’t crack under its weight. He focused his gaze on his sire’s face and stared until the familiar heat of anger roused in his chest and spread to warm even his fingers and toes. The memory of quivering muscles and months of restlessness held him firm, upright, and aloof.

It kept his eyes dry.

“Inside,” his mother ordered, gesturing to the cottage. Kalen didn’t move until his sire planted a hand between his shoulders and shoved him forward.

“You don’t keep her waiting when she’s in this sort of mood,” his sire hissed in his ear.

“And whose fault is that?” Kalen asked in a grumble.

“Aden, come. The rest of you, go take care of the horses. Find something useful to do with yourselves,” his mother said.

The others retreated in the same way he did from a hissing serpent: Slow, steady, and as fast as possible without drawing unwanted attention.

“I can help with the horses,” Aden said.

“Go to the kitchen,” Lady Delrose replied.

Kalen hurried to put some distance between him and his sire, muttering curses under his breath. Aden vanished into the cottage, and Kalen followed after him. The entry opened to a sparsely furnished parlor that was strewn with blankets. There was a lone door at the far end of the room. Aden stopped long enough to glance back. His mother gestured with her hand, and Aden opened the door.

The kitchen beyond took up most of the cottage, large enough for a wooden table that could sit the entire Delrose family with room to spare. Long benches flanked both sides of the table. Before Kalen could take a better look around, his sire dropped his hand on his shoulder, and shoved him down. He sat, breath hissing through his teeth at the pain that lanced up his arm to his shoulder.

“What is the meaning of this, Bresalan? You told me the Rifters were important and one of them had gotten hurt. You
didn’t
tell me he’s the Rift King. It seems you also neglected to mention that he’s our son!”