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Hellion shrugged. “You’re a legend to them. The human who stood against dragon fire and broke the enemy. Nevahn the Maelstrom Mage.”
Cian coughed into his fist. “More than that, word has circulated about us. I have made no sort of formal announcement, but I think it would go a long way. Give the people something other than fear and worry to think about.”
I turned my head away and closed my eyes.
“What?” Cian pressed. “What is it?”
“The house fire when I was five. It wasn’t a house fire.” I rolled onto my side, facing him. “Do you remember when I told you I used to think I did it? That I had killed my parents?”
Hellion scooted closer, spooning against me from behind. “Nevahn…”
“Ididkill them, Cian. But I’m not sure they were my real parents. At least, the man I thought was my father wasn’t. During the Shadow Rite, I saw what really happened that night. All this time, I’ve been repressing that memory. I buried it because I was afraid of the truth.”
A muscle in Cian’s jaw feathered. His throat worked. “What truth?”
“I don’t think I’m entirely human, Cian.”
He sat up, scooting up the bed, drawing up his knees. “The rite isn’t truth. They’re visions, Nevahn. Hallucinations. Tell him, Hel.”
I rolled over to look up at them.
Hellion pressed their lips together. “Some magic is subjective, but…Regardless of what you saw in the rite, we cannot ignore the evidence that is right in front of us. The only Storm Weavers in history have been direct descendants of the Fire Lord, and yourrohis very strong, Nevahn. Perhaps enough to match Iridyn himself.”
“The first night in the gargoyle settlement, Warlord Chinua addressed me asPrinceNevahn,” I said.
Cian shook his head again. “The only places where there are kings and princes are the Spiritlands and the human lands, neither of which would explain your powers.”
The bed creaked as I shifted to lean against him. “I don’t know what it all means yet, but I can guess at some of it. I think Iridyn—”
“No.” Cian cut me off firmly.
“Cian…”
But it was Hellion that took my face in their hands. “You are not like them. I don’t care whose blood is in your veins. I don’t care if youarethe bastard child of my enemy. You are not like them. You will never be like them. You are who you choose to be.”
I sighed and turned their hand over, kissing the back of it. “I choose to be with you and Cian, and to fight for Ezulari. But the people will have questions. Maybe not now, maybe not until after, but one day I’m going to need to answer to them about where I come from. I want to know, too, but it can wait.”
Cian let out a relieved breath. “When this is over, you’ll have our full support.”
Hellion agreed, taking my hands. “We’ll find out. Together.”
“Thank you.”
Cian kissed the top of my head. “Rest today. But as soon as you can stand, I want you in the war room with me. And I want people to see you there.”
Islept.Iateand slept some more. Slowly, strength came back. Too slowly. I knew I could lie there for a week or more and still not be fully recovered. The war wouldn’t wait that long.
The people wouldn’t wait that long. My people.
With help from Will, I cleaned myself up and we planned on how to break the news to the court.
I wore white and blue, the colors of lightning. For my right shoulder, Will brought a pauldron made of leather and patterned steel plates. On the left, a cape of crimson. Will brushed my face to clear bruises and brighten my features, but most of the work he did involved scissors, cutting and trimming my beard and uneven hair.
Hellion examined Will’s work and shook their head. “Something’s missing.”
“He needs a sword,” Cian said.
“No, not a sword,” I said, turning to examine myself in the mirror. “A hammer.”
