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Draven’s lips twitched ever so slightly. “I believe she has found something to occupy her of late, yes.”
I thought of how I had seen Lyrastra in the training arena.
“You mean the competition?” I said before I could stop myself. “This game or whatever you Siabra call it. To win the Killing Throne.”
Draven’s eyes narrowed but he didn’t dispute it. “The Umbral Throne, yes.”
“Whatever,” I muttered.
“The Blood Rise, it’s called. Some call it the Bloodbath. Most simply call it a competition, as you have.”
“And it’s what exactly? A fight to the death?”
“Something like that. For Lyrastra, it’s a way up to the position she always thought would one day be hers.”
“Empress, you mean. What about for you?” I met his eyes directly. “You’re going to die for the Umbral Throne?”
“No, I plan to live for it,” he said bluntly. His tone was so resolute I felt my heart quicken. It was so easy to believe him when he spoke like that. “I plan to win the competition, attain the throne, and start putting this empire to rights.”
“Is that even possible at this point?” I asked sourly.
He smiled slightly. “Things can’t get much worse. A hundred and fifty years may seem like lifetimes to mortals and only a drop in the bucket to most Siabra, but regardless it was enough time for our culture to be significantly altered. My father’s legacy. Imagine a people doomed to childlessness, Morgan. Imagine what that does to them. Whether we choose to remain childless ourselves or to have children, the fact remains that a society exists for its children. We live knowing they are our future. Without children... well, there is no such future.”
“Even for such a long-lived people?” I was skeptical. But then, I still was only vague on how long a fae like Draven would live. Hundreds of years? Millennia?
“Even for us. A hopelessness fell upon the Siabra as soon as the curse took effect.” His face turned grim. “It has led us to equally dark paths.”
“Worse than turning children into undead monsters?”
“Perhaps not worse, but similarly evil,” he said softly. “Think of stolen human children. Stolen human brides–and husbands, too. Used and discarded when they failed to be enough or to succeed.”
“To succeed...” I stared. “You mean...”
Draven’s face filled with distaste. “There are some Siabra who refused to accept the curse. They would try to breed human women, even though almost all such pregnancies ended in death for the mother.”
“And stolen children?”
“Stolen and treated as pets until they reached old age. Taken from their true homes and families to soothe the aching loneliness of some in this court.”
I swallowed. “Is Beks... one such child?”
“Beks?” Draven shook his head. “No, he was orphaned, I believe. He shows rare talent and so my mother decreed he be assigned to a court mage who would hone his abilities. Javer is unpalatable, I know, but he is exceptionally skilled.”
“Levitating people into the air?” I said harshly. “How can you allow Javer to teach a child after that?”
“I’ll see to it that what you witnessed does not occur again. But Javer is a strict teacher. I doubt that part of his approach will change. And there is no one else,” Draven said directly. “Beks is a shielder. They are extremely rare. His value to the court is incalculable. Unfortunately, Javer is the only one who possesses the same abilities and is willing to teach him. Leaving Beks on the streets of Noctasia, letting his abilities go to waste. It wasn’t an option. In time, he’ll have a valuable role at court. A role previously unthought of for a human.”
“For a human,” I repeated. I shook my head. “Perhaps the curse has been a good thing. Have you ever thought of that? The Siabra don’t seem particularly redeemable.”
“Perhaps.” Draven’s eyes were stubborn. “But there is good in us, too, despite what you may feel. I must believe that.”
“Who put the curse on the Siabra? Who exactly and how?” I demanded.
“How is the unknown. It was a dark, powerful magic. As for who, the High King of the Valtain placed the curse, as far as we know. Gorlois was his name. Is his name, I suppose I should say, for he’s still alive as far as we know. His royal house claims descendance from the original fae.”
“And where is he now? Where are they all?”
“Biding their time and waiting somewhere, I suppose,” Draven said. “Admittedly, we haven’t been eager to pursue them. But Valtain was simply one of their territories. The king’s favorite seat of power, but one which he abandoned. Out of principle or pique, I was never quite sure.”
