Page 129 of Haunted

“Lord Caedryn.” General Gethen bows. “You received my message.”

Ahnalyn’s brow rises with questions. Yes, she didn’t anticipate me being the Lord Caedryn, ruler of Rolant. Deep down, I relish her wonder. “Yes, I decided to meet you halfway to safeguard my precious cargo. I’m elated with the news I received.”

I’m as ancient as they come, but she has no way of knowing how deceptive my youthful, outward appearance is.

I frown when a weariness crosses her features. She tries her hardest to hide it.

“Bring her inside, unbind her hands, and give her food and drink.” I might have to lash Gethen for her mistreatment. She shouldn’t look so haggard.

Ahnalyn towers above me on her horse, but I take her hands. “They have been too rough with you.” Her wrists are raw where they’re tied. Anger courses up inside me, but I calm my rage. “You’ll have no need for those while I’m here.” I catch her timid glance, but she looks away.

A brilliant awareness comes to me as I mentally scan her for more injuries.

Ahnalyn has a secret.

A devilish glee fills me. Her secret is a welcome surprise.

85

I wait patiently while Ahnalyn fills her belly. I leave her alone so she can breathe, but her worry and dread never abate. Now she stands before me in my office, brave enough to meet my eyes, with an inner fire lighting her green ones.

I am proud.

I don’t intend to intimidate her, but she sees my stoic manner and my rigid stance and will make her own assumptions of me. I search in her soul. Her light is weak. She’s taken a blow since her husband’s death, which made her darkness stronger. In the future, I will use that to my advantage.

“Gethen tells me you have quite the spirit,” I say.

She does not acknowledge my assessment in any way. “You’ve escaped more than once. An admirable quality. I would expect nothing less.”

Ahnalyn keeps her head held high.

“You don’t know who you are, do you?” I make my voice indifferent.

I catch the emotion of disgust. My irritation flares. She has jumped too far ahead. How can she judge me so simply without knowing everything?

“No wonder your husband never told you.” I bite the contempt in my words. “He knew what a treasure he had and wanted you to himself—quite selfish actually.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Ahnalyn says with a measured voice.

“No, you wouldn’t, would you?” I try to look thoughtful, as if it’s hard for me to guess everything about Ahnalyn. But I’ve been studying her for years. “Your parents hid the truth from you. Your life has been one tremendous lie.” I laugh and clap my hands together, unable to hide my delight with my deception. “This is too good! They wanted you to be in darkness your whole life, hiding who you are, only to fail. This amuses me.” A smile spreads across my face. Let her see my glee.

I pause before widening my eyes in further revelation. “Your mother was killed because of you. Heartbreaking.”

“You lie!” Ahnalyn’s voice rises. “How could you know how my mother was killed?”

“I possess a lot of knowledge. All I have to do is look at you, and I know.” I reach with a pointed finger, pushing it to Ahnalyn’s forehead, before snatching it back. “Emrys!”

Ahnalyn winces. I’m pushing her. I’m confusing her already tender heart and mind. I don’t feel remorse. She will come to know who she is, and she will take her turmoil, rise above, and be stronger for it.

“You’re half-immortal. Your mother was a dragon rider.” I stare at a shimmery white stone hanging at Ahnalyn’s throat. A dragon stone. Niawen’s. She must have given it to Ahnalyn while Niawen lay dying. “You wear the dragon stone around your neck!” I proclaim this as if in response to her many unanswered questions.

She doesn’t say anything. She’s hoping to veil her ignorance. Ahnalyn feels humiliated, and I don’t wish this emotion on her, but I must plant more seeds.

I must dig the seeds further into the soil of her confusion so her darkness will spread.

“Your Lord Brenin knew what you were when he saw you,” I rasp. “He must have wanted you to breed his immortal offspring.”

Ahnalyn’s hand flies up, but I grab it before it makes contact with my face. She cries out, and I twist Ahnalyn’s arm and pull her close, her back against my chest. My heart races as I realize this is the first time I’ve held my child in my arms. I laugh, overjoyed. I don’t feel fatherly sentiments, but regardless, a strange satisfaction courses through me knowing she is of my own flesh.

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