Page 11 of Heir to His Court

We were on the beach, my feet bare and warmed by the sands. I walked with her, there was no choice.

A smile nothing like my mother's curved her lips. “They teach you barely anything of your own history in Everenne. Have you ever wondered why? Why they so thoroughly cut the city off from the traditions of our home realm?”

I had wondered, in passing, though it probably said something about me that I hadn't wondered more than once or twice. I didn't care. Everenne was enough for me. Or it had been.

“When you take away a people's history, you control their minds. Control their ambitions. It is easier to deceive them when they know no better. My grandson wanted a city of people free of all obligation, but for that, you must deprive them of memory. It is a favorite tactic of his, is it not?”

I stiffened, unwilling to respond to the silky barb.

“You know nothing of your history, nothing of your family, and barely anything of your power because it makes you easier tocontrol, Aerinne. If you believe his aim is not to control you, you are a fool.”

I remained silent, employing my stubbornness to good use for once.

After a moment, Juhainah laughed. “You're young. I am not entirely disappointed.” She shrugged and turned back to the ocean. “I can teach you to guard yourself from him, if you wish. The instruction he has given you is weighted in his favor.”

Such a shiny carrot. “And the price for this tutelage?”

“Only that you consider my words.”

Though she wasn't my mother, it was difficult to look straight at her. Every time my heart beat it felt as if someone was punching a fresh bruise. As she spoke, it became easier to separate my mind from my heart.

“Will you return to your original physical form now? It’s. . .enough.”

Another low laugh, but my mother's visage shimmered and in its place stood a female just as tall, just as slender with feminine muscle, but there the resemblance ended.

Midnight skin gleamed with purple highlights, and dark mono lidded eyes stared at me as hair so dark a blue it was nearly black cascaded in thick waves around her shoulders, ending in several inches of white, like brushstrokes.

I inclined my head. “My gratitude. You are incomparable, Exalted. I'm puzzled why you would deprive yourself of such a weapon.”

Her full, soft lips curved. “What lovely manners you have when you desire it, child.”

When she turned her head, a shimmer highlighted her curved cheekbones, the natural luminescence of her skin.

“But what you wish to know is what I want from you. I will answer that question now.” She turned back to me, lifting a hand, her fingertips skimming my hair. “The Twenty-Four could not destroy me. I was First among them, I cannot be destroyed. But they succeeded in unmaking my physical body.”

I held up my hand. “Forgive the interruption, but is there any place I can verify your information?”

She lifted her brow, lowered it. “Untainted verification? Perhaps. Ninephe’s library is vast, and there are one or two tomes I hid over time in the palace catacombs. There is one of my descent who is yet interested in the truth for truth's sake. I will not reveal them at this time.” She paused, a pulse of danger in her silence. It was time for me to shut up. “You are my Heir because your physical body is strong enough to contain me, the form of your power close to my own—not as it is now, of course. But when I was a girl, we were remarkably similar. It is possible you can house me.”

When I said nothing, she gave me a gentle, approving nod. “I am not asking you to die for me. That would be foolish. I am asking you cede control of your form to me on the event of your natural death.”

My expression must have showed my skepticism, for she laughed. “So cynical. I approve. Allow me to reframe. On the day you are killed—you will not die what we consider a natural death, Aerinne. Those of power never do.”

“The Ancients live. They sleep, but it is still life in a fashion.”

“You are not an Ancient, my dear. Eventually someone will kill you. When they do, I will inhabit your body and live in truth again.”

She wove a web of half-truths and inconsistencies and with the arrogance of narcissists everywhere, thought I wouldn’t notice. The first inconsistency being the assumption someone would kill me—shehad survived, why not I, if I was supposedly so similar to her when she was my age?

The greatest weakness of these Old Ones, these Ancients, was underestimating everyone beneath them. It was a weakness I could wield.

“Why ask my permission?” I asked.

“Because it cannot be done without permission.”

“What do you offer? Do not deploy your armies. I’m told they gather.”

Black eyes narrowed, the brilliant whites taking on a violet tinge. “Enayya and Assariel beg for war. I will give it to them.”

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