“I couldn’t discern exactly what it was, but I knew where I had to go for answers. The orc homeland, the city of Drol Kuggradh,” Kelvhan said. Taegan raised his eyebrows in surprise, as did Zorvut. “So I traveled there, and my divination led me to have a conversation with the wife of the warlord, Naydi. What she told me, I confirmed magically to be the truth.” Zorvut’s eyes had narrowed into a glare, even as Kelvhan turned to face him.
“Zorvut,” he said, his voice low. “I hate to be the bearer of bad news. But you are not a son of Hrul Bonebreaker.”
The cold, numbing shock that coursed through their bond made Taegan gasp, the only sound to break through the silence. He shook his head in disbelief, glancing between the two, but Zorvut’s gaze was trained firmly on Kelvhan.
“Impossible,” Zorvut said faintly, barely above a whisper. But Taegan could feel a faint, creeping dread starting to fracture his surprise, like a long-abandoned suspicion finally coming to light.
“I’m afraid it’s true,” Kelvhan said. “I can show you.” With a flourish and a murmured incantation, an illusory form materialized above his outstretched hand—a face, slightly transparent, with a flickering, indistinct background that swirled and dissipated around it like mist. As the features came into focus, it was undoubtedly the warlord’s wife Naydi, Zorvut’s mother. Kelvhan truly must have gone to speak with her, Taegan realized, for he had not been at the wedding and otherwise never would have had the chance to see her.
The illusory face began to talk, the voice quiet and slightly distorted, but Zorvut still gave a start of recognition.
“Zorvut is the runt of my children, yes,” she said. “But he is only so because he is only half-orc. I could never admit such a thing to Hrul, but... Well, there was a traveling bard who came through our lands, by the name of Tomlin Whitmore. A very adventurous human, to be sure.” She gave a humorless laugh, her eyes downcast. “I suspected it, but I knew for certain when he was born—so small, and he never caught up with his siblings. But Hrul did not suspect, so I never said anything.” Her expression became suddenly fearful, almost shocked, as if she had meant to say none of it. “How did you—?!”
Kelvhan gave another flourish of his wrist, and the image vanished. Zorvut’s eyes were still locked on the spot where his mother’s face had been, and Taegan could feel his shock sinking steadily into despair.
“You tricked her,” Taegan found himself saying without thought. “You forced her to tell you. How can we know that any of that was true?”
“Taegan,” Kelvhan said, shaking his head. “I... compelled her to speak with me, yes. But I cannot compel someone to lie. Everything she said was true.”
Zorvut remained silent, finally looking away from them. He had to say something, Taegan thought, but what?
“Zorvut,” he said, taking a step closer to his husband. “This changes nothing. You’re still—”
“I’m afraid this changes everything,” Kelvhan interrupted, grabbing Taegan by the forearm to stop him. Taegan wrenched his hand away with a scowl, but Kelvhan continued on. “If Zorvut is not a true-born heir of the warlord, then the terms of the peace treaty have not been met, and your union has been a deception. The moment Hrul Bonebreaker learned of his wife’s indiscretion, he cast her away and rallied his armies. I returned as quickly as I could, but there’s no telling how soon they’ll be marching on us once again. And the news may very well be spreading even more rapidly. If the king finds out...”
“What?!” Taegan exclaimed. “For what purpose? If the warlord didn’t know, if Zorvut himself didn’t know, why then march on us now?” Kelvhan shrugged.
“I have no insight as to that, except that orcs are a bloodthirsty race,” he said. “If there is no reason not to fight, then fight they shall.”
Everything was happening so fast. Taegan stumbled back and sat weakly on the edge of the bed, his hands pressed to his face. Somehow his mind was racing yet completely blank at the same time—it felt as if everything precious had slipped out of his grasp, and he was trapped in its moment of free fall, watching helplessly before it shattered.
Kelvhan cleared his throat, and continued, “Zorvut, if you value your life at all, I would recommend that you flee. It is only a matter of time before King Ruven casts you out, or worse.”
Zorvut had been silent, but finally looked up to meet Taegan’s gaze—his golden-yellow eyes were glassy and wet. Taegan’s heart squeezed in despair. He had never seen Zorvut cry before.
“Do you think that’s true?” he asked in a low, urgent voice. From the bond, Taegan could finally put a name to the burning sensation he felt coming from Zorvut: fear.
“I—I don’t know,” Taegan stammered. Part of him balked at the thought of his father doing such a thing, yet King Ruven had worked so tirelessly on the peace treaty; he could not say with any certainty how he might react.
“Should I go?” he asked, stepping toward him. He knelt down and grasped Taegan’s hands tightly, his own hands trembling. “Taegan, do you think he speaks the truth? Would it be safer for us if I left? Safer for you?”
In his mind, Taegan exclaimed that of course he did not want Zorvut to go, no matter what happened. But the words couldn’t seem to form around his lips, and he could not push the image out of his mind of Zorvut being surrounded by castle guards, thrown into the dungeons beaten and bloody, or worse. Terror clenched in his throat as he tried to speak.
Zorvut’s mouth tightened into a hard line at his silence. A spark of despair bloomed in the bond, and then was suddenly cut off—Taegan winced at the sudden emptiness, looking up in shock. Zorvut released his hands, moving methodically to pull his cloak from where it hung on the wall.
He must have closed his end of the bond, Taegan realized in a panic, as the back of his head felt suddenly raw and tender, as if a piece of his own mind had been neatly sliced away.
“Wait,” he managed to gasp out, reaching his hands out uselessly. He could not bring himself to stand; every muscle in his body felt weak. “Zorvut, please.”
“No, I understand,” Zorvut said quietly, not meeting his gaze. “I want you to be safe. Taegan, I...” He looked to Taegan, his eyes burning with emotion that he could not identify, seemingly just as unable to form the words he wanted to say as Taegan was. “I’m sorry.”
Zorvut fastened his cloak, opened the door, and was gone. Finally, Taegan managed to will himself to stand, stumbling after him, but Kelvhan stepped between him and the closed door.
“Wait!” he cried out, panic filling his voice. He could not seem to push past Kelvhan, his whole body trembling. “No, wait! Please! Zorvut!”
“Let him go,” Kelvhan said, his voice a quiet whisper in Taegan’s ear. “You have to let him go.”
Taegan was not sure how long he stood there gasping for breath, staring desperately at the closed door and willing it to open again, willing Zorvut to return. But the door remained closed, and eventually Kelvhan gently pulled him away.
