Page 152 of A Storm in Every Heart
She takes a deep breath. “Because Magnus cannot gain more power. It would be catastrophic to all of Ellender, and using you he would have nearly unlimited influence.”
I raise an eyebrow. “You don’t want your father to gain more power? That doesn’t sound like you.”
“Magnus isn’t really my father,” she snaps, noticeably not commenting on whether or not she’s behaving like herself.
Remembering that Magnus already told me he can’t have children, I look over Lyra, scanning her face. She’s tall and willowy, with olive skin, green eyes, and long brown—almost black—hair. In short, she doesn’t look anything like her supposed father. Magnus is pale and blonde with grey eyes. More importantly, though, Magnus’s features are painfully ordinary. For whatever else can be said about Lyra, no one could deny she’s striking.
“You’re adopted?” I guess.
She scoffs. “‘Adopted’ is a strong word for what he did. He bought me.”
“Excuse me?” I blurt out, instantly alert. “Heboughtyou? What does that mean?”
Lyra crosses her arms over her chest and glares at a point slightly over my right shoulder. When she speaks, it comes out monotone. “My parents were extremely poor and I had many siblings. I was one of six or seven, I think, it’s hard to remember now.” She frowns, her eyes growing distant for a moment. “Anyway, Magnus learned of my shapeshifting abilities when I was very young. I don’t know how he found out, but he went to my parents and offered to buy me from them and take me back to Hydratta.”
I gasp, horrified. “And they just sold you?”
“They had half a dozen other children to feed.” She shrugs as if it doesn’t bother her, but her expression is tight. Clearly, this bothers her very much.
“Why would he want you?” I ask.
“He thinks long-term and always wanted power. He thought I’d be useful.” She scowls again. “It was similar to how he’s kept you in the back of his mind all these years.”
I shudder. “He’s delusional if he thinks I’ll ever let myself be useful to him. I’d rather die first.”
She frowns. “I wish I could say the same. For years I sought his approval and did all sorts of horrible things just because he asked me to. Just spying at first. I’d turn into someone else and walk around the castle, then report back what I’d heard. Later, when I got older, he’d sometimes send me on more complex missions. I’d have to steal things, or sometimes plant evidence to be found later. For a long time I drew the line at killing anyone myself, but I certainly helped orchestrate murders even if I didn’t lift the knife.”
“How old were you when you went to live with Magnus?” I ask, frowning.
“Five. Why?”
“Then whatever you did, it’s not your fault. You were too young to know better and your parent was telling you what to do and praising you if you did it right.”
“I know,” she says briskly. “I don’t blame myself, I blame him.”
We share a dark look.
“I’m sorry,” I say after a moment, knowing that words aren’t nearly enough.
“It’s fine,” she waves me off. “Aside from the occasional times he’d ask me to transform into someone else to spy on the court, I wasn’t treated badly. Magnus wanted others to believe that I was his daughter so he treated me like I was. I was raised here at court and had the best of everything. Tutors, clothes, jewelry. In many ways my life was probably better than it would have been with my family.”
Again she sounds bitter, but this time I get it. I’d be more than just bitter if this had happened to me—I’d want revenge.
“I don’t know what Magnus told King Sebastian and Queen Marbella about how I came to be there, because he’d already been working for them for decades at that point and was high up among the advisors and obviously couldn’t suddenly have a five-year-old child with no explanation. He probably said that my mother was dead and he just learned I existed, or something like that. Magnus is very good at weaving stories.”
It dawns on me that she’s calling him “Magnus” and not “Father.” That seems significant, but I don’t want to derail her and ask why—or rather, when—she stopped thinking of him as her parent.
“Magnus was convinced that the best way to gain power for himself would be to tie me to the existing royal family. I was betrothed to Prince Kastian more or less as soon as Magnus brought me to court, when I was five and he was three. By the time I was nine, I was being trained to be the perfect royal bride.”
“Perfect for whom?” I ask.
She laughs without humor. “That’s a good question, honestly. Kastian and I never really liked each other much. I was taught to be completely subservient and obedient, which never interested him.”
I raise an eyebrow. “I know.”
“Right, I suppose you do.” She frowns, looking pensive. “Anyway, the plan was that I would marry Kastian, his parents would meet a sudden and unfortunate end, and I’d be queen. Then, as my father and the former top advisor, Magnus would swoop in to help rule the kingdom.”
“And eventually Kastian would die too, right?”
