“You’re afraid my father removed traces of the World to prevent someone else from summoning it.”
“Is it a rational fear?” I ask.
“Rational, yes. But so far as I can tell, in what limited knowledge I have, the World seems to repurpose rather than remove things. It’s a reshuffling of the deck, not an inking of new cards or removal of others. Some things are also immutable—like the Majors. There will always be twenty, though who they are might change when the World is cast.”
I think about this and remember what Elorin warned me about my Major. “Kind of like how the Wheel contorts fate. When Bristara—” I choke on the words and swallow the emotion. Kaelis patiently waits. “When she died, it was from a card that was intended to kill me. The Wheel did not stop Ravin from casting the card, it simply changed the target and efficacy.”
Kaelis thinks about this a moment and then gives a nod of approval. “Something like that. Which is a sensible way to think about it, given that the Wheel and the World tug on similar strings of fate—one is simply far more powerful.”
“Or like the fortress,” I continue, to make sure I understand. “It was previously here, so it still existed even when the World was remade. But the history was altered—we no longer knew it as a recent kingdom, but thought it an ancient one.”
“Yes.” He looks back down at the papers on his desk, suddenly deeply engrossed. It’s clear he’d rather not discuss this, and I can suspect why.
So I feel bad when I continue to press the matter. “Perhaps, since evidence of Revisan persisted after the world was remade, there might be something in the records that surround it?”
“There is nothing to be gained from the Revisan Kingdom,” he murmurs, still not looking up.
I don’t relent. “You know about my family, Kaelis. I want to know about yours.”
“I think you know well enough about my family.” He scoffs, but it sounds forced.
“Your mother was the Queen of Revisan, wasn’t she?” The boldstatement has him frozen. There’s a flash of panic, and then an anger I don’t understand. “Your father used her to get to the World, then he killed her and took her throne for himself.”
“Those words are insane at best and treasonous at worst,” he whispers.
“But are they wrong?” I challenge. It was one of the last things Bristara ever told me:He is the last of the Revisan bloodline.
“What makes you say this?” The fact that Kaelis isn’t denying it has already told me all I need to know. Now I’m even more curious.
“I saw her portrait.” Fortunately, I have an excuse that doesn’t involve Bristara or the Worldkeepers; I wouldn’t want to risk his ire toward them, and I know Kaelis would be upset about others sharing his secrets. “It was your father—younger, but undeniably him—standing next to a queen I didn’t recognize. Butshesat on the throne and wore the crown.” I pause, waiting for him to say or do something more, but he doesn’t. So I add, softer, “You have her hair.”
He freezes, and there’s a fleeting second of panic in his eyes. Then, without a word, he’s on his feet. He’s striding out the door of the office.
Priss lets out an undignified meow as she’s left scrambling when I jolt upright. I race to keep up. Every door is shutting behind him right as I push through—not that he’s trying to keep me out, but he’s moving with speed and purpose. I find the door to the closet that Rewina locked months ago open. Kaelis is inside, lifting the very portrait I mentioned from the back and settling it upon a lone hook on the wall. I can’t help but wonder if that hook is waiting for that portrait…for the nights that Kaelis comes to admire it.
He lets out a soft sigh, as if a knot of tension has unraveled between his shoulders at being able to finally gaze upon her memory with someone else.
When he turns to face me, I see the undeniable resemblance between them. Resemblance I realize Ravin does not share. Perhaps his father took the current queen as a lover in secret, knowing he’d slay his bride. Pain fills Kaelis’s eyes. But I can also see the relief I heard in his sigh. He can finally share his secret.
“I didn’t lie to you,” he says. “He did kill her.”
“I believe you.” I step into the dusty gloom of the closet. There are just a few paces between us. Yet it feels like we stand worlds apart. “But…did you lie when you told me you wouldn’t use the World to bring her back?”
A second of hesitation. One that speaks volumes. As if he’s trying to convince himself as much as he is me.
“I would understand,” I say gently. “I, of all people, would understand you wanting to bring her back.”
“I know.” Kaelis shifts to better see the portrait. He looks up at his mother with such longing and adoration. “But I cannot.”
“Cannot?” Not “will not.” Not “do not want to.” “Cannot.”
“I wouldn’t want whatever monstrosity the World would concoct—only to be at risk of disappearing should another make a wish. She wouldn’t bemymother. She’d be what that card thought would be mine. An amalgamation of magic. A chimera. A hollow monstrosity that only exists inthatnew world. A specter that’d vanish like woodsmoke should another wish be made, because she was never real to begin with.” He drags his eyes to mine and whispers, “I’m sorry.”
I’m sorry for letting you have any hope. For not telling you explicitly sooner, so you’d help me pursue the World last year.I can fill in the blanks that follow those two words.
I’d thought I’d given up on bringing my mother back with the World—I was looking toward the future. Yet here I am…wounded and aching at the idea that I can’t. That even if I changed my mind, the option isn’t there. Mother, Bristara, Jura…What has been lost to me can never be regained, not even with the mightiest magic. If they were, it’d be just a fake veneer.
“Would you say none of us are ‘real’ after the World card?” Genuine curiosity creeps into my voice.
