Page 57 of Calling of the Crown

I was determined to bring her back. There had to be a technique or something that could help her return. I wouldn’t give up on her.

Looking around at the limitless water, I pushed past the lump in my throat. “So you’re here. You’re alive, but Dad …”

I met her eyes again, and at the mention of my dad, her blue eyes flashed with deep-rooted pain. She shook her head and whispered, “He’s gone.”

The news choked me and sent a pang right through my heart. Having my mom right here in front of me had made a new hope rise within me, one in which I’d find my father in much the same way. Having her confirm he was truly dead broke my heart all over again.

Seeing her own sorrow written so clearly on her face broke my heart more. She ached over his loss, and this news seemed to strike something inside me. I faintly recalled someone—a figure with fiery red hair flashed in my mind—telling me about rumors concerning my parents. People said they hated each other but ended up happy together in the end.

Wanting to know the truth, I asked, “Were you two happy? Did you—did you love each other?”

Her eyes widened in shock before her features smoothed back out in understanding. “You’ve heard the rumors.”

I nodded.

Her lips lifted, and her eyes took on a faraway look. “Your father and I had an arranged marriage. It’s true that back then I found him frustrating and a tad annoying, because he would consistently show off in front of me. It wasn’t until after we’d married that I learned he did all those things because he’d liked me for far longer than our engagement or marriage. I found myself falling for him early on, and we stayed in love until the day he died.” She paused and added, “I’m still in love with him.”

Smiling at the mental image of my parents laughing together, I asked, “Then why were there rumors that you didn’t like him or the marriage?”

She looked down at her lap, and her shoulders sagged with the weight of memories. “That was your father’s doing. He was always making himself look like the bad guy to protect those he loved. That rumor was no different.”

“I don’t understand.”

Alesta took a deep breath. “I’d always wanted a family. I wanted to be a mother, even more so after my life with your father began. Everyone was always quick to remind me of how powerful I was, how amazing I was, and how incredible my children would certainly be. Yet with all that power, I couldn’t do the one thing I wanted most.”

She gave me a sad smile and looked out into the distance. “We tried for so long, but I just couldn’t seem to get pregnant. People were starting to talk and question me, so Khal took the blame. He said he hadn’t earned my trust or love yet with all his ‘flaws.’ People began to believe that he just wasn’t a good husband, and until he changed, an heir wouldn’t come. I hated this rumor, but he refused to let anyone think otherwise. He’d rather have the whole Kingdom whispering behind his back than to let anyone speak poorly of me.”

Tears pricked my eyes again, and the ache in my chest flared anew. The tale made me miss him even more, and knowing I’d never get the chance to tell him I loved him or see his affection first-hand was like a jagged blade sinking into my chest and twisting.

I worked to find my voice. “Dad sounds amazing.”

She nodded and wiped her eyes. “He was. He was a wonderful man who was taken unjustly. I’d tried explaining the truth to Myra when she came for revenge, but she didn’t listen. She killed Khal as revenge for his killing Balgair, and before she could do the same to me, I ended up here.”

Hearing those two names—Myra and Balgair—spurred a sort of buzz in my head, like a memory trying to resurface. There was a reason those names sounded familiar, but I couldn’t quite place why.

Wanting to hear more and see if I could figure it out, I slowly asked, “Did you have a lot of run-ins with Balgair and Myra?”

Her blue eyes found mine, and she went quiet. She opened her mouth, closed it, then tried again. “Balgair … He was … Well, he was my best friend.”

I nodded leisurely. Maybe that was why the name felt familiar. It was my mom’s best friend. It seemed plausible, but the more seconds that ticked by, the more the clouds shading parts of my memories began to recede. I replayed my mother’s words in my head, and I honed in on the part about my dad having killed Balgair. That seemed to strike something inside me.

That has to be why the name sounds familiar. It’s a man my dad killed.

“Balgair was my dearest friend,” Alesta continued at my silence. “I didn’t know Myra as well. She was really only ever open and close with Balgair. But he and I were as close as friends could be.”

That, of course, posed the question of why.

Shaking my head incredulously, I asked, “If you and Balgair were friends, why did Dad kill him?”

“That’s a long story.” She glanced away from me, and suddenly, she sat up straighter, as though an idea had occurred to her. “Actually, I can show you.” She held her hand up in front of us, and the drifting water slowed until it swirled around itself, creating a moving frame. “Water is everywhere. It gives life, it sees all, and it connects us. Because of that, we can use it to see loved ones or to view memories.”

The space in the center of the circling frame began to glow, much like the light that Alesta had been looking at when I’d approached. Shapes slowly formed within the frame, and soft sounds began to play.

Alesta turned to me. “Let me show you what happened.”

Chapter Twenty-Six

THE DOOR TO THE LIBRARY opened. Alesta and Khal, who’d been looking through a stack of papers, suddenly whipped their heads up to see who’d just walked in. As soon as Alesta’s eyes found the man’s, her shoulders sagged in relief, and she let out a sigh.

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