Page 35 of Immortal Sentry

“They will be here when you have need of them. The time is not yet right.” Miisov spoke so calmly, like he hadn’t a care. Easy for him. He wasn’t locked in a cell, wondering what came next.

Eron’s patience neared an end. “This makes no sense. I left here at ten and don’t have all my memories. I barely remember being King Lothan’s son, and only recently recalled that information. I’m not the one you should pin your hopes on.”

“You’re exactly the one I need to pin my hopes on. You must defeat the king, defeat Duke Crau, and, most of all, protect Lessa and her boys. No one else can save them.” How long had they known each other? Already, Miisov knew how to motivate Eron.

“Can I ask about Lessa? I don’t remember much about her.” What Eron remembered made his heart break for the lost time they hadn’t been together. He’d never seen his nephews or even knew of their existence.

“I’ll answer if I can.”

Eron released Miisov’s robes and stepped back. “Is she happy? Does she have a good life?”

Miisov stared off at nothing for a moment. “She has no love for her husband, King Selin of Anilitk, nor he for her, but he’s mostly left her alone after she presented him with two heirs. She loves her sons dearly and would die to protect them. I doubt she’d trouble herself overly much if Selin suddenly drowned.”

Eron had felt so alone all this time. Now, he discovered that not only did he have a sister, but he might meet her soon. “Does she know I live?” He’d concern himself with his brother-by-marriage later.

“She does not. I’m sorry, but it wasn’t prudent to tell her. Nor did I have a way to contact her. Her husband keeps her under constant watch.”

“Bain wants to kill her and her sons. Wouldn’t Lessa’s husband retaliate?”

Miisov let out a long exhale. “No. He’d bury her in state, as is her due. She is queen, and his subjects would have it no other way. He does not know Bain plans to leave him without heirs. There is a certain countess who believes he’ll wed her. He won’t. There’s nothing to be gained by marrying beneath his station. He’ll choose a bride who can bring lands, status, or gold. Possibly all three. I wouldn’t mourn his loss, either.”

Eron’s heart fell. He barely remembered his sister, but no one deserved such disregard. “Why don’t I have more memories of my time here? It’s your doing, right?”

“I helped some. You were young. Sometimes, our minds try to protect us by hiding the truth. Your memories are not truly gone. I believe you’ve been remembering since arriving in the castle.”

“Maybe even before.” Eron couldn’t say anything for sure at the moment except that he wanted out of this cell where he couldn’t do anyone any good.

“Although I cannot openly defy the king, know that you’re not alone. Bain has sent me here to cast a spell. You won’t be able to leave the premises without my knowledge, but in order for you to have access to your intended victims, you must have the freedom to move about the castle. Crau suggested disguising you as a servant, but that wouldn’t do. Instead, you will be a minor noble from Estia.”

Eron’s eyes widened. That explained the mention of Estia earlier.

“Yes, I realize Kene has taught you their customs and dialect, and Estian nobles visit her home. This means you’ll be convincing, as you know the local gossip and notable familiesfrom the many who frequent her estate. As before, anyone who intends you harm will not recognize you for who you are.”

“What about the ones who recognize me?” Eron asked in guttural Estian.

Miisov answered in the same language. “They will simply think you bear a striking resemblance to someone they know. I am sorry. Spells require a lot of energy. As a young man, I could’ve hidden you from all eyes. After the battle that claimed your father, I spent all the energy I had at the time to ensure your safety and plan for your return.”

Eron switched back to the language common to the nobility of many countries. “How much energy?”

Miisov switched as well. “How old would you say that I am?”

Eron learned long ago not to comment on ages. Some people were extremely sensitive to mentions of the passage of time. “I’d rather not say.”

Miisov shrugged his narrow shoulders. “Many believe me to be nearing my one-hundredth summer, which isn’t as unusual for a mage as for a non-magical human.”

“How old are you, then?”

“I was a young man at Kene’s birth nearly forty summers ago. I’ve seen seventy summers.”

“What?” The facial lines, the shuffling gait—Eron would have guessed one hundred, too.

One side of Miisov’s mouth quirked upward in a bittersweet smile. “That’s the price I paid then and would gladly pay again now.”

“So, you’re still using your magic. Won’t that cost you?”

“Kind of you to worry about me. You always were a thoughtful child. You’ve grown into a fine man. Your parents are proud of you.”

“What do you meanare? They’re both—”

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