“I doubt you’ve heard the whole story,” Lukai muttered.
“Then tell him,” Daisy said, turning to Jasperus. “I haven’t heard it either.”
A slow smile spread across Kendalyhn’s face, and Gaeren had the feeling this was what she’d wanted all along. This story held nothing good for Gaeren or Daisy.
Jasperus shook his head. “I’m not sure it’s a good one for mixed company.”
Gaeren snorted. “Shouldn’t we at least be able to hear each other’s legends without fighting?”
“I’ll tell it.”
Everyone turned as Orra stood, the fire casting a strange glow on her dark skin.
“My version might be different from all of yours, but like Captain Moss and Lady Redwood”—Orra gave a regal nod in Gaeren and Riveran’s direction—“I guarantee it’s the most accurate.”
No one dared argue.
“Everyone can agree that at the time of the Great Divide, Queen Selph Elanesse ruled the Vendarans. During that time, the Vendarans banded together to overcome all they’d lost, but with her husband’s death in the Great War, Queen Selph lost much of her motivation to live, to serve, to lead. It wasn’t until her son, Melchinek, succeeded the throne with his young wife and bondmate, Amaya, that Vendarans began to thrive.” Orra scanned the group as if daring someone to argue, but so far both Recreants and Loyalists seemed to find her story accurate.
“For ten years, they ruled together,” Orra continued. “Amaya bore him two children, a daughter named Valyn and a son named Breck.”
“What?” Gaeren sat up straighter. “They only had one child.”
“Told you he hadn’t heard it,” Lukai said.
Gaeren turned to Riveran. “Have you heard this?”
“I admit it’s hard to swallow the first time you hear it.” Riveran refused to hold his gaze. “I’m not sure any of us could verify the truth of either side. But it’s worth hearing. It’s worth trying to understand.”
For a moment, Gaeren wondered if his old friend was still talking about Orra’s story.
“May I continue?” Orra asked.
Gaeren nodded, glancing at Daisy. Her eyes held sadness, but as soon as they met his, she steeled her features and turned back to Orra.
“Over time, King Melchinek gave in to blood magic, using the dark spirits to grow his army.”
Gaeren clenched his jaw. He wanted to call her out on her lies, but everyone else continued listening with rapt attention, undisturbed over the horror she spewed.
“Eventually, he became so obsessed with his desire for power that he made plans to kill a Star and take its power for himself.”
This time it was the Recreants who balked.
“That doesn’t make any sense,” Jasperus said. “The Stars weren’t even communing after the Great Divide.”
“They still communed with Queen Amaya,” Orra said.
“Why would they do that?” Iris asked.
“Why wouldn’t we all know that?” Holm added.
“The events of history have a way of changing over time, depending on who tells the story. Elements that seem unimportant, or unbecoming, are often left out. Now, will you all let me finish?” She eyed them like a stern mother threatening to put them all to bed early. “King Melchinek was the first and last man to kill a Star, but instead of gaining power from the slain Star’s blood, it killed him, and the power entered his son, Breck. Queen Amaya ruled in her husband’s place until Breck came of age. His power was part of the reason the Elanesse family line held stronger starblood than most, though it grows weaker with every generation.”
Her attention rested on Gaeren, reminding him that she spoke of his family line, of him and Enla. Her words were blasphemous, the idea of anyone, especially in his family, killing a Star preposterous. They might not worship the Stars, but his family still honored them. His anger was only slightly tempered by the fact that the Recreants all looked shocked and horrified as well.
“Valyn should have taken the throne,” she continued, “but as the siblings grew, she saw that her brother’s power far outmatched hers. He could easily kill her and take the throne, so she fled to the Myndren Mountains. She took up a quiet life as a priestess in a Sungazer, where she married Willem Wyndren.”
Everyone’s focus shifted to Daisy, whose eyes widened in surprise.