The Crimson Crown (28 page)

Crow seized Lucius around the throat, lifting him so that he was dangling in the air. Lucius’s face purpled, his eyes bulging. Crow shook him like a rag doll. “Here I’ve been blaming Hanalea all this time. Here I’ve given credit to the Bayars. Why was it I never thought of you?” He slammed Lucius to the ground and kicked him savagely. Conjuring up a large rock, he raised it high over his head.

Han had been standing, as if frozen, but now he charged forward, knocking the stone away. “Alger! No! This is a waste of time. You know you can’t kill him.”

Crow’s face was sheet-white, his eyes like twin blue coals. “Maybe not, but I’ll enjoy trying.” He tried to circle around Han, but Han danced sideways, preventing Crow from getting to Lucius.

When Crow tried again, Han swept his feet out from under him so he landed flat on his back. His ancestor might be a talented wizard, but he was no good at street fighting.

“I’m warning you, Alister,” Crow growled, rolling to his feet. “Get out of my way.”

Lucius dragged in a rattling breath. “Help him, boy! Help him finish me off.”

Han ignored him, focusing on Crow. “Listen to me. You’ve waited a thousand years for answers. Don’t you want to hear what he has to say?”

“No!” Crow thundered. “I don’t want to hear excuses.”

“Then tell
me
,” Han said to Lucius, while keeping a wary eye on Crow. “It’s my legacy, too. I want to hear what happened. Neither of you is going to get what you want until I do.”

Now they both glared at Han.

Han broadened his stance and folded his arms. “Well? You said you’d tell the truth. How could you turn on your best friend?”

Lucius sighed and sat up, wrapping his arms around his knees. “You win. Let me tell you about young Alger.” He paused and collected his thoughts. “He was the most brilliant wizard I ever knew, and the strongest, too, when it came to flash. He was handsome and charming, and once he determined to do a thing, nobody could stop him.” He swallowed hard, as if downing noxious medicine. “It seemed unfair—all the gifts he was given. Some said he was arrogant—and he was. Others complained that he was ruthless and ambitious—and they were right.

“But me? I was always content to live in his shadow, proud to bask in his reflected fame. And there were always girls around—they came to him like bees to honey. Some even settled for me.”

Han glanced at Crow, who stood listening, eyes narrowed, fists clenched.

“In short,” Lucius said, “Alger was hard on his enemies, but there was never a more loyal friend than he was to me.” His voice trailed off.

“Apparently, you felt no obligation to reciprocate.” Crow’s voice was as icy as sleet. He sat down, settling in, as if resigned to sit through a long story.

Lucius shrugged. “I
wasn’t
ambitious, which is what made us so compatible. There was only one thing in the world I wanted—something I craved more than anything. Something I knew I would never have.” He rubbed his chin, looking at Han. “And that was Hanalea. I loved her long before these two even met.”

“Hanalea!” Crow repeated, stunned. He turned to Han. “That’s a lie,” he said. “They didn’t even know each other until I introduced them.”

“My father was an officer of the court,” Lucius said, still speaking to Han. “I spent my childhood in Fellsmarch, and I saw a lot of the royal family. I’d been in love with her since I knew what love was.
Lytling
love at first, and then adolescent obsession. I knew she was out of my reach. She was a queen, and everyone knew she was going to marry Kinley Bayar.”

“He never said anything about her,” Crow said to Han. “So how was I supposed to know?”

“There was no reason,” Lucius said. “It was a pipe dream, a fantasy, embarrassing to share. You see, I wasn’t a fool, like him.” He cocked his head toward Crow.

“A fool…like me?” Crow said, looking like a bird that staggers about after smacking into a wall.

“He wasn’t like everybody else,” Lucius said. “He didn’t believe in
impossible
. He came from a lesser house than mine, but he was as confident as could be. If there were barriers, he’d find a way around, or through, or over.”

That’s something I’ve heard people say about me, Han thought.

“By the time I found out Alger was courting Hanalea on the sly, they were head over heels in love.” Lucius snorted. “Somehow, I thought he’d betrayed me by not telling me. Not that I could have competed. But I wasn’t thinking rationally.”

“Lucas was the first person I confided in,” Crow said. “The only person for a long time. We needed a go-between, a lookout, someone to help us. And he seemed to
want
to help.”

“I was hungry for every crumb from his plate, any detail he’d share with me. He shared a lot—too much. And every kiss—every embrace pierced me like an arrow. I was driven mad with jealousy.”

“Believe me, Alister, I had no idea about any of this.” Crow rubbed the bridge of his nose.

“’Course he didn’t,” Lucius said to Han. “He was so caught up in Hanalea that he never noticed. Plus, he was busy with other things. He got himself appointed to the Wizard Council, and built that stronghold on Gray Lady, and cleared out all those tunnels.” He paused. “He even made off with the armory without anybody knowing it—except for me.

“He was working a plan. The council didn’t know half of what he was up to, but they were still scared to death.” He finally looked at Crow. “Remember how we used to make fun of the old guard? You had a whole crowd of young powerful wizards who were totally loyal to you. Including me. Or so you thought. But all that power was going to your head, and who knew where it would end?”

“You were my best friend,” Crow said. “Did it never occur to you to talk to me about it?”

“I tried—several times,” Lucius said. “You didn’t want any advice. And after that, you kept more and more secrets from me.”

Crow opened his mouth as if to argue the point, but then shook his head and motioned for Lucius to go on.

“So. I tipped off the Bayars that you and Hana were seeing each other. They locked her up in her rooms until she could be married off to Kinley and you could have an unfortunate accident. But, no, you’d planned for that, too.” Lucius looked at Han. “He’d already tunneled into Hanalea’s rooms so he could come and go. But he never told me that.”

“We eloped,” Crow said to Han. “We found a speaker to marry us, and took refuge on Gray Lady.”

“So none of it’s true,” Han said, thinking of his dance performance at Marisa Pines. “There was no kidnapping. No torture. None of that.”

“The only one tortured was Alger, later on.” Lucius laughed, a harsh, bitter sound. “So—I knew he’d won, even if the Bayars and their allies hadn’t figured it out. I guessed that eventually he’d find out who betrayed him. And I couldn’t stand it—that he had what I’d wanted so badly.

“I told myself that no one wizard should wield that much power—that he was a danger to the Seven Realms. And he was, but not in the way that anyone expected.

“So I betrayed him again. I led a small group of wizards through the tunnels, into the heart of Gray Lady, where they hid themselves, waiting for night. Then I went to Alger and asked him to make me immortal.”

“Why did you ask for that?” Han said.

“I knew what can happen to traitors.” Lucius grimaced. “And I suppose I knew that the only way to defeat Alger was to outlive him.”

“I didn’t want to do it,” Crow said. “I’d never tried it before. I didn’t know how it would play out—if he would remain young and healthy or live old and miserable. I assumed he’d need a constant stream of power to maintain himself. I thought it was a mistake.”

“It was,” Lucius said. “There are worse things than dying—like being trapped in a life that’s no longer worth living. But I insisted.” He sighed. “Once he did as I asked, I was no longer a wizard, since all of my flash was consumed with keeping me alive. He was captured and bound and thrown into the Aerie House dungeons.”

He turned back to Crow. “Kinley told you it was Hanalea who betrayed you, because he couldn’t stand that she loved you and not him.”

“I didn’t want to believe him,” Crow said. “But I couldn’t see how else it could have happened. He taunted me with details about our…about us that only Hana could have told him.”

“Only Hana and me, your best friend,” Lucius said. “But, see, I didn’t know where the armory was.” Lucius looked at Han. “He was smart enough not to tell me that.”

“I never told anyone,” Crow said. “I still hoped my marriage with Hana would eventually be accepted and we could be at peace.”

“Right,” Lucius said. “He was always optimistic that way. The Bayars only kept him alive because they were wild to find out where he’d hidden the armory. Then somehow he got his amulet back.”

“I told them I needed the amulet in order to conjure the passageway to the armory,” Crow said. “When they gave it to me, I hid inside, under protections so powerful I knew they’d never force me out. I left my body behind, hoping they would think I was dead.”

“They tore you to pieces,” Lucius said. “They made Hanalea watch, and it nearly drove her mad. They somehow convinced her that she’d done it herself—she’d destroyed the demon who had stolen her away. The revisionists were already at work, you see.

“Meanwhile, the Bayars were still trying to discover the secret of the amulet so they could find the armory. But what you’d done was way beyond their capabilities. They could not undo it. In the end, their attempts to break the Waterlow amulet nearly destroyed the world.”

Crow nodded. “Alister’s told me about that. What exactly happened?”

“The energy released set into motion a chain of events. Earthquakes, volcanic eruptions, huge storms, and floods. Thousands died, and the disaster kept growing. Even the Wizard Council was at a loss for what to do, except blame it on you.”

Crow nodded. “I can see how it happened. So much energy—everything I had—was put into that barrier. I was determined to stay out of the Bayars’ reach—to frustrate them in that, at least.”

“The Breaking,” Han whispered, stunned. “The Bayars caused it? Not you?”

“Why are you surprised?” Crow turned his blue eyes on Han. “Your own experience should tell you—they are masters at shifting blame.”

Han thought of how it must have been for Alger Waterlow—trapped in an amulet for a thousand years—victim of so many lies and unable to make himself heard.

“The world is still here,” Crow pointed out. “How did they stop it?”

“Even the Bayars were scared,” Lucas said, “so they finally allowed Hanalea to go to the clans for help.”

“The clans? Oh, you mean the copperheads?” Crow wrinkled his nose. “Really? They were very…marginal…as I recall.”

“Marginalized by wizards,” Han said. “They regained power because of the Breaking. They stopped it with earth magic—they’ve always had a closer connection to the natural world than we do. Their price was to rein in the Wizard Council. Hanalea and the Spirit clans hammered out an agreement—what we call the Nǽming. Wizards are no longer in charge.”

“But they want to be,” Lucius said. “They still want to be, in the worst way.”

“You haven’t said—how did you come to marry Hana?” Crow asked him. “Why didn’t she marry Kinley?”

“Hanalea despised Kinley Bayar,” Lucius said. “Though she blamed herself for your death, she knew that Bayar was really the one responsible. And she knew she was expecting your child. She realized that Bayar would never allow Waterlow offspring to live, and she was determined to save her child—children, as it turned out. I’d been your best friend, and she did not know what I’d done to you. So she came to me and asked me to kill Kinley Bayar.”

“Hana did that?” Crow said.

Lucius nodded. “She was strong—stronger than anybody knew. I immediately agreed, on one condition—that she marry me. I would raise your child as my own and protect her secret. The best part was, if I killed Kinley, Hanalea need never know the truth.”

“But—you were no longer gifted,” Crow said. “How did you manage it?”

“It wasn’t all that hard. Wizards tend to overfocus on magical attacks. Kinley wasn’t thinking about poison at all.” Lucius shook his head regretfully. “It was too easy a death, but I had to make it seem natural. The clans made great poisons even in those days.

“So. Hanalea and the clans stopped the Breaking. She didn’t know about the amulet, and she didn’t know that you were not the cause. The Bayars were in charge of that history, and all of the blame was laid on you. I never defended you.

“Still, it seemed like I had everything I’d ever dreamed of—I was married to Hanalea, and I was rich, and I knew I would live forever. Even if Hanalea suspected me, she’d never confront me, because I knew a terrible secret—who the father of her children really was.

“After the babies were born, she doted on them. They were all she had left of you, Alger. She never loved me. And I was the outsider once again.”

Lucius heaved a great sigh, as if releasing the last of his demons. “I betrayed you and Hanalea one more time. I told the copperheads who the father of Alister and Alyssa really was.”

Crow blazed up again. The heat of him scorched Han’s skin, and he shaded his eyes against the glare. “You claim you loved Hana? Then how could you do such a despicable thing?”

Lucius cringed. “I thought if the children were taken away from her, she’d forget about you, and them, and we could have our own family. But I was wrong.” Tears pooled in Lucius’s eyes. “Hanalea swore she’d kill herself if your children were harmed. She swore she’d never have another child, by me or anybody else. She would start a civil war that would destroy what was left of the Seven Realms. She never wavered, and the clans believed her. I believed her.”

“So—Hana loved me,” Crow said, with a kind of melancholy wonder. “She really did.”

“She really did,” Lucius said. “And the clans finally agreed that Alyssa would be heir to the Gray Wolf throne. Alister would be taken away, but would be well cared for. Everyone would continue to pretend that Alyssa was my child.

“Hanalea never forgave me. She never accepted me into her bed again.” Lucius looked up at Crow. “There’s no way I can make up for everything I took from you and Hanalea. There’s no way to undo what’s been done—to give you your life back. All I can tell you is that I have suffered for what I’ve done—more than you can imagine.”