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“It’s fine.” I stepped forward. “I expected nothing less.”
“No, I don’t agree. This isn’t right.”
I nodded at Draven to go ahead but spoke to Arin. “And what do you suggest we do? Turn around and go where?”
Draven clipped the cuffs on and snicked the lock over. “I’ll get you out of these just as soon as I’ve spoken with Ogden.”
We all started forward along the sand-dusted road. Draven strode ahead again with Arin lagging behind him. Noemi fell to the back with me, leading our two kareel. “You’re doing the right thing,” she told me.
“You speak as though I have a choice.”
“You do not have to bow to anyone, do you realize that?” She stopped our march with her hand on my arm. “Lark, Razak admitted his mother was not of Pain’s court. In Justice’s courtroom, he said his mother was from the Court of Love. Do you understand what that means?”
“I’ve been a little preoccupied with surviving.”
“Youare the rightful heir to Pain’s crown,” Noemi said. “Razak is the half-prince, not you. Both your parents were from Pain’s court. Razak’s mother was from the Court of Love, and frankly, considering how quiet Pain have kept that piece of knowledge, I’d assume she wasn’t noble. Whatever the history between them, you are a child of Pain and its king, not Razak.”
My heart gave a little flip. That couldn’t be right. “Does it matter?”
She nodded. “Yes. It matters to Razak. I’d guess it’s always mattered a great deal to him. If he knew you were the heir, then it explains his…”
“Affections?” I suggested, and she gave me the pitying look of someone who knew my past and felt sorry for me.
“I thought you should know. With everything that’s been happening, I wasn’t sure if you’d understood the ramifications of the truth. He was so thrilled to have Arin there, I doubt he even realized the worth of the information he’d given away.”
Then I was more a king than Razak? It was a fancy thought. I laughed her off and continued on, chasing Arin’s shadow. “I’m no king, though.”
“You could be. You’d make a better king than Razak. You have heart, you’re brave, you understand Pain, and you’re selfless.” Noemi’s speech quickened, her thoughts racing along with her pace. “I wonder, do you think your mother knew? Was that why Umair had her killed?”
“It does seem likely.”
With Umair’s love for his dead wife well-known, but her origins a secret, it would have been easier to erase the truth—and give me to Razak, to keep me close, keep the true heir controlled.
We were almost at the vast gate now. “Use the knowledge wisely.”
I smiled back at her. “Freedom suits you.”
“I never agreed with how much Justice controlled the shatterlands. But as an aide, I had no voice. I’m not sure I have much of a voice now, but I know what’s right. And I’ll fight for that.”
“Knowing what’s right puts you ahead of the courts—what remains of them.”
“I’ve been thinking about that. I think the courts were designed to keep everyone fractured. Like the crowns, their people were forced apart. It seems… wrong, doesn’t it? For our people to be isolated by a past we have no control over.”
“It does.” There was a great deal we still didn’t know, thanks to Justice erasing that past.
A guard at the gate stepped aside and waved us on through. The wind swept sand into tiny vortexes as we entered War’s gateway, and we emerged into the arena-like entranceway. When we’d fled, months ago, there had been a crowd present, and today was no different, including War’s many warriors. They stared back at us and murmured among themselves.
What had they heard? What did they think they knew of Zayan? Was I Razak’s accomplice or his victim, their enemy or friend? I’d been all those things. The cuffs had been sensible. It was a shame Ogden hadn’t put them on Razak the first time we’d visited.
The Court of War’s king marched from his warrior’s ranks and approached Draven and Arin. His great axe gleamed on his back, and his thick braids had been gathered over one of his impressive shoulders.
Ogden’s reputation was everything. If his people discovered Razak had stolen the crown out from under him, he’d be dethroned within hours.
We didn’t want chaos. This was not the time for War to lose its king. We just wanted fairness, and for Ogden to listen.
The king stopped in front of us. His warriors stared, their faces stoic. Red banners flapped in the wind, and behind them all rose the grand pyramid—its interior artwork so like Justice’s. Perhaps Noemi was right, and our fractured world hadn’t always been so.
Could our Court of Misfits unite the shatterlands once more?
