The Deathsinger: Book 2

Ch. 43: Lessons in Patience

"Morananthia Bedisa died two years before the war ended," Cethin whispered when she at last gained her composure after my announcement.

Watching Remiel from my peripheral vision, I replied, "Those same rumors say her sister murdered her."

"Well, considering her current state, who would doubt it?"

"Mara wasn't always like this. Vyta's fires have made her this way."

"If you are the princess, where have you been all these years? Why did your father announce that you had died?"

Cethin's hard green gaze assessed me. I had to admire her. The shock of my announcement had not entirely worn off. I could see it in the tremble of her hands as she picked up a cup of hot tea, but resolve wrapped around her question like steel ribbons. Princess or not, she expected me to answer.

"Perhaps he thought I was dead."

Many memories had returned, but gaping holes remained. Especially around what happened the night Mara first drained Vyta. I had watched my sister defy my mother, pull the flames into herself, and then been burned by her touch. After that, there was nothing but pain and darkness until I woke in the cottage in the Vesper.

The Deathsinger waited silently for me to continue. I didn't expect her to allow me to leave it there, but I didn't know how to explain things to her without it sounding evasive. Perhaps it was better to show her. I slid my towel off my shoulders and tugged down the sleeve to expose the scars.

A noise burst out of Remiel at the sight of the fresh wounds. Strangled and guttural, it didn't make it further than his throat. His entire being went rigid beside me. Cethin looked at them with a strange mixture of emotions. Pity was foremost, but beneath that was astonishment.

"I was injured the night Mara extinguished Vyta." By her hand, but I would not share that information. No reason to damn my sister for any more sins. "But I only recently learned that. Until recently, I had no memory of my life in Araphel. I can only guess that someone, perhaps my father, smuggled me out of Araphel. Whether it was because they knew what a danger Mara was going to become or because they suspected we would lose the war...I might never know."

Tea sloshed over the edge of Cethin's cup as she clunked it down on the saucer. "You poor child. I can't even guess at what horrors you endured in your time away from your homeland, nor at what events that could have occurred that would have led you back here. Though, I suspect the awakening of your Deathsinger powers might have played a role."

I nodded. "Remiel found me. Told me what I was."

"She wasn't very pleased." He joked.

"Would you be if someone showed up and told you your very existence was punishable by death?" I grumbled. Gods, what a scared little girl I had been.

"Welcome news or not, I am glad he found you, and I am pleased that the Reapers are still dutiful."

"Always, Mistress."

"Good." She patted Remiel's knee. Seeing such a fearsome woman make such a maternal gesture was odd. Especially when she looked back at me, a dangerous gleam brightening her eyes.

"But I must tell you that you're wrong."

"Excu–"

"If it was your father who smuggled you out of Araphel, we can find out."

"How?" Hope bloomed in my chest. Such a sweet poisonous thing that was hard to resist. "Did he leave records somewhere? Ones that were not destroyed in the fires?"

She rose, left the room, and returned with a change of clothes for each of us. "Put these on and then down the hall to the room on the left. You'll find a warm meal and a bed. We can talk in the morning."