QUEST WORLD

SAY WHAT

TAN WAS USED TO fielding comments about his father in the capital. The other courtiers made no secret of the fact that they hoped he wasn't truly Dynwar's oldest child; that his mother had been unfaithful; that there had been some mix up that meant they would get to watch Tan plummet from what flimsy grace he had.

But he was not used to such declarations outside of the capital.

In a forest.

From a guy dressed in an ancient squire's outfit.

Tan knew his mouth was open—he felt like these three strangers had taken turns kicking him in the stomach.

But he gathered himself, jaw snapping shut, and fell into his instinctual defense. "King Dynwar isn't one for charity," Tan said, his voice like ice. "You're suggesting he pulled me into his family out of the kindness of his heart, and then sired other children while keeping me first in line? Trust me when I say that my siblings' mothers would have long ago overthrown me if—"

Imina elbowed Tan in his side. "That's not what they said."

Tan swung his glare down to her—and froze.

Her dark eyes glistened. Her face was contorted in a rare look of hurt that instantly made the protective older brother side of him flare to life. Imina hated when he tried to protect her—she "didn't need anyone to save her"—but it was her staunch indestructibility that made her brokenness so activating. Tan could count on one hand the number of times he'd seen her look truly shaken, and no matter how infuriatingly manipulative she could be, he couldn't help but feel like he needed to help her.

So he replayed what the squire had said.

And the breath fled his lungs.

"How dare you?" he hissed the question and looked up at the squire, still on his horse. "How dare you insinuate that the princes and princesses of Ildodar are not truly Dynwar's children? Do you have any idea what kind of treason you have spoken?"

The squire was completely pale. The sorcerer and the witch seemed just as shocked at the squire's declaration, but Tan would deal with them later—his fury was fixed on the squire, who started to sway, and Tan thought the boy might pass out from fear.

"It isn't treason," said the sorcerer. Amelie, the witch had called her. "Not if it's true."

Tan shifted his glare to her. Up on her horse, she loomed over him, but that height advantage didn't seem to give her the confidence it should have. He watched her shrink, then correct herself, shoulders pulling back, chin high.

She was Imina's complete opposite. Forced confidence and sarcasm instead of composure.

"It isn't true," Tan said through his teeth. "My sister and I and our siblings are our father's children."

"What proof do you have?"

"We don't have to prove anything to you," Tan snapped. Imina took his hand, but he didn't dare look at her, afraid what he might do if he saw her teary-eyed face again.

"No." The witch was looking at the squire, then Amelie, with a thoughtful but heavy consideration. "But we can prove it."

Amelie met the witch's eyes.

The witch shrugged. "That friend of mine. She can at least prove if you're all related." She waved at Amelie, Tan, and Imina.

"We're not doing any kind of relation spell," Tan tried, but his own voice was starting to waver.

These people spoke with an authority about Dynwar's children that Tan found hard to counter.

And... it all made too much sense.