AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Times change, Dawn. People change,” my father continued in a calm voice after a moment. “We constantly learn and grow, if we open our minds to it. I wish I knew then all that I know now. Maybe I would have been a better father and raised Gerwin to be different. I’ll never know. But now, I have a daughter… a breathtakingly beautiful daughter, whose praises are constantly being sung not only by the hybrids, but by the royal guards and every member of Clan Xeldar.”
He stopped walking again to look at me. The pride in his voice and in his eyes did a number on me. I blinked a couple of times, screaming internally for my fucking tears not to show themselves. I didn’t want him thinking me a crybaby or an emotionally fragile woman.
“I hope you will allow me to get to know you and that you will want to meet your clan and brothers,” he added in a soft voice.
My stomach knotted at that thought. I didn’t know if fear, curiosity, or longing had prompted that reaction. I’d always wanted to belong to a family. My adoptive mother had been wonderful to me, but in many ways, she had been more of a caregiver than a true mother. While we remained in contact, she had moved on with her life once I had fully reached adulthood. I had hoped for siblings to pester, to love, to rely on, and to support when they needed me. While the hybrids in the shelter had filled part of that role, it had never been the real thing.
“There’s no rush, Dawn,” my father quickly added when I hesitated. “We have the rest of our lives to get to know each other. I just wanted you to be aware that we are here, and that we’ll wait however long you need to make us part of your life.”
Once more, I blinked rapidly to stem the tears threatening to come out. I had tried to imagine this conversation in a billion different ways. Not once had it played out like this. I couldn’t tell whether he was merely saying what he knew would mollify me, or if he was being sincere. After all, he was a high-ranking politician on Braxia. But his tone and demeanor rang true.
“Thank you. Like you said, we have our entire lives before us,” I said with gratitude.
He smiled, the genuine happiness in his eyes filling my heart with warmth. He opened his mouth, then hesitated, appearing to choose the proper words before he spoke. That got all my senses on high alert.
“You being our future Dagna is a tremendous honor for our clan and for me as your father,” he said carefully, making me even more nervous. “However, we didn’t realize at first how severely injured the Jakar had been. Over the past few days, we got a better understanding of the extent of what he endured. In truth, the Council does not believe that he will recover in time for Marghor.”
“Marghor?” I asked, fighting the sense of dread growing within me.
Is he one of those who have been pushing for Gavin to become the next Magnar?
“Marghor is a special celebration which happens once a year,” my father explained. “Technically, it translates as ‘Day of Reconciliation.’ But in practice it is the day of settling scores between clans and individuals. Over the years, it also became the official event where one can challenge the Magnar for his throne. It is especially difficult because all those who issued the challenge will be thrown in the arena together in a free for all, last man standing battle. It is not uncommon for many of the challengers to join forces to take out the biggest threat before dwindling the numbers down until a single victor stands.”
I shuddered. A duel, Keran might have a chance to win, assuming all went well with the Veredians when they arrived in a couple of weeks, and that he recovered sufficiently in the few days left before Marghor. But he would never survive a free for all brawl.
“I see,” I said in a non-committal fashion, waiting to see where he was going with this.
“Word of what happened and of his condition has spread far and wide,” my father continued with a frown. “Because of that, even more people will challenge him for the throne. If he’s not ready, you must not let him fight. It is better he loses and lives to fight another day.”
I recoiled, my jaw dropping as I stared at him in disbelief. “You want Keran to forfeit the throne?!” I exclaimed, flabbergasted.
“No. I want him to live,” he said in a firm tone. “Gerwin’s death and the terrible financial crisis our planet went through around that same period have opened my eyes. Braxia needs Clan Xeldar to continue ruling it. If Keran enters Marghor and loses the fight, he will be forever challenged, even if he comes back later and ends up winning. If he’s not ready this year, let another claim the throne, and then he can reclaim it in a crushing victory once he’s fully healed.”
I slowly nodded, seeing the merit of his arguments yet still not ready to side with them.
“I hear what you’re saying, but that temporary ruler could cause great harm. He could undo most of what Magnar Ravik has accomplished over the past two decades,” I argued.
“Not if Gavin enters the fight,” my father said smugly. “He is smart, strong, and undefeated in the arena. He shares all the values of the Xeldars. He will safekeep Braxia until Keran is able to defeat any challenger.”
“And what if Gavin decides he likes the job and wants to keep it?” I countered, my unease coming back with a vengeance.
Granted, Gavin had clearly expressed to me that he had no desire whatsoever to rule Braxia. But once he got a taste of power, would he still be so eager to relinquish it?
My father waved a dismissive hand. “Nothing, not even the throne will keep him here. Worst case scenario, assuming for some highly improbable reason that Keran wouldn’t recover enough to defeat potential opponents, Gavin will abdicate. He has waited his whole life to meet his Veredian soulmate in person. Once he reaches his twenty-first birthday three years from now, he will leave for the Western Quadrant to be with her. Woe unto anyone who attempts to keep him from her.”
“You have given me much to think about,” I said, rubbing my forehead.
“I hope this will include the potential of occasional visits to your clan and your sire,” he replied in a soft tone.
I smiled, suddenly feeling shy, and nodded.
He smiled back, his gaze roaming over my face again with a mix of pride and possessiveness that wrecked me. Lifting one of his massive hands, he gently caressed my cheek.
“Until then, my daughter.”
He dropped his hand then walked away. I pressed my palm where he had touched me as if to recapture the sensation.
“Until then, Father,” I whispered under my breath.
