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Lio touched his medallion and prayed they were approaching victory. “Our embassy consisted of powerful elders and battle-hardened Hesperines errant. They all attested to me they had never encountered anything like that duel. His own magic destroyed him. As a forest fire consumes a tree, his power ate him from within and expended him.”
The anger lashed out of Chrysanthos, as raw as a fire spell itself.
“I would not wish that on any fellow mage.” Lio drew near the Dexion once more. “It was a horrific way to die. Did you see his body when they sent it back to Cordium?”
Chrysanthos’s knuckles were white where he clutched the letter box.
Cassia emerged from the shadows on his other side, flanking him. “Did you look upon the consequences of your choices? Were you proud of how you secured your position? Do you ever get a whiff of his burnt-out flesh when you smell your fine wine or see his blank eyes staring back at you from among the admiring gazes?”
Chrysanthos covered his face in his hands. A long groan grated out of him. “You know nothing!” he screamed across the table. He stumbled to his feet, rounding on Lio.
The man disappeared in a blast of fire magic. Lio could only watch as the ward around Chrysanthos pulsed with red light and black shadow. The fire spell fizzled and revealed him once more. Tears streaked his face.
“I did see his body,” he roared. “My own flesh and blood. Our father and I lit the funerary pyre together. Gods doom you for what you did to my brother.”
Lio faced him, speechless. On his other side, Cassia was a silent flare of shock in the darkness.
Chrysanthos hammered a fist against his chest. “He should have had that medallion! He should have had the chance to watch his son grow.” His face contorted. “I should have been there. I should never have let him go alone. Iamto blame. I, who was not at his side in battle, as I swore I always would be.”
The Dexion sank into his chair, and his hand curled into a fist on the lid of his letter box. His body shook, and then his sobs filled the hall.
RESTITUTION
A trembling hand wasthe only mask the Dexion of the Aithourian Circle had to hide his face from the room full of onlookers. He was out of clever words. Cassia watched the grief she recognized break him.
His shoulders convulsed, and uncontrolled, wretched sobs poured out of him. Had he ever cried until this moment?
She reached out a hand to the suffering man before her, then pulled it back. It was not safe to touch this fellow mourner. It was not possible to give the enemy comfort.
She waited until he spent himself, and his weeping quieted to rasping breaths.
“I am so sorry,” she said softly.
Lio pulled out the chair next to Chrysanthos and sat down beside him. “I carry your grief in my veins.”
“Your pity is a sacrilege against his memory,” Chrysanthos hissed.
“It is not pity,” Lio said. “With Hespera as my witness, I wish you knew what I feel for you.”
Lio met Cassia’s eyes over the Dexion’s head, then both their gazes fell to the inlaid box. In the man who had been ready to send Zoe, Bosko, and Thenie to the pyre, they could not see the doting father described in those letters. They had never considered that the man who had nearly destroyed families with one spell at the Summit could leave behind a grieving lover, son, brother, and father.
“Dalos is still the mage who tried to assassinate everyone at the Equinox Summit,” Lord Adrogan reminded them.
“Whoever he was,” Benedict returned, “whatever he did, he was Chrysanthos’s kin.”
“Like your father was your kin?” Lord Adrogan challenged.
“Yes,” Benedict answered.
Lord Gaius came round to Chrysanthos carrying a flask that smelled of strong spirits and held it out to the mage. “Enemy warriors mourn their fallen the same as we do.”
Chrysanthos took the flask and put it to his mouth, throwing his head back. Then he took a breath, growled, and handed the flask back to Lord Gaius.
“Go ahead,” Chrysanthos dared. “Try to use this against me. Scandal may spread like wildfire, but the Synthikos will douse it as easily as a candle flame.”
“He is your father,” Cassia said, “in more than name.”
“Try to tell the Pavones I’m the Synthikos’s bastard, if you like. Mother is above reproach. Her own husband died believing I was his.”
