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She knew a trick when she saw one. She was, at the end of the day, a master of manipulation. And this charade was no doubt a trick.
She took a step forward.
"We are not playing a game. This isn't—" Fynn groaned as he tried to stand, but Graeson prevented him from moving any further as he pressed down on his shoulder. Fynn took a slow, shaky breath and continued, "This is no trick. We do not think you are daft. Even when you were a child, you were always quick to see the truth."
Fynn spoke as though he knew her.
He didn't.
She adjusted the dagger in her hand, steadied her body.
Fynn swatted Graeson's hand away and pressed his own palm to his wound. "Kallie, there's a lot we need to discuss, about our family, about what happened to you, but perhaps now is not the time."
Kallie halted as small fractures began to form in her mind. They split across everything she knew to be true, everything she had been told. It was as if a pebble had been thrown against a piece of glass, a small web skirting out from the central point of impact.
"Kalisandre?"
She blinked. The splintering ceased.
"Our mother has tasked us with the job of rescuing you," Fynn said as though that would explain everything. It didn't.
She looked back and forth between Fynn and Graeson, and Graeson's demeanor immediately shifted into that of surprise, bordering on disgust.
He raised his hands and leaned back as though the movement would prevent her from stabbing him too. "Not me. We're not related."
Fynn let out a small, strained laugh. "Nowthatwould be something, wouldn't it?"
Graeson pressed his palm into Fynn's wound, and Fynn let out a hiss in response.
She ignored them and instinctively reached for the ring on her finger. "My mother is dead."
"Ourmother is very much alive," Fynn said.
Her fingers stopped rotating the metal. If that was true, then why had she not known? Did her father know? If he did, why hadn't he told her? Why had he let Kallie believe her mother was dead?
"But my father—"
"That vile man is not your father, Kallie," Fynn interrupted with venom on his tongue. "Domitiusis the very reasonourfather is dead. And he is probably rolling in his grave hearing you call his murderer that. He killed our father and then stole you from us."
The cracks in her mind started again and her breaths became shorter, labored. If King Domitius was not her father then who was? And What did that make her? “You're lying."
"I'm not.” Fynn sighed. “If you could just wait until we get to Pontia, she'll show you."
"She who?" Kallie asked. Nothing they were saying made sense.
Fynn sighed in annoyance as if it was her fault she had been supposedly lied to her entire life.
"Queen Esmeray," Graeson answered.
"Queen Esmeray? What does she have to do with this?" Kallie asked. According to her father, the queen of Pontia was a haughty ruler with no real skill. A mere figurehead.
Graeson sighed. “She's your mother."
Kallie took a step back. Her mother? But that couldn't be right. Then Kallie remembered how she had opened up to Graeson earlier. Her confusion quickly turned into outrage. "You knew this entire time? Yet you let me talk about my dead mother and went along with it?" She didn't know why the lie hurt, but it felt like she was the one who had been stabbed, not Fynn. She should never have let herself be vulnerable. Vulnerability meant weakness.
Graeson rubbed his face. "I couldn't tell you. We had agreed to wait until we were home."
"And how is that working out for you?" Kallie snapped back.
