He steps back to a small pile of branches next to the cliff face. The neatness of the pile makes it clear that he still comes up to the viewpoint, collecting fallen branches from the well-treed slopes that surround us while he hikes. More accurately, while he rock-climbs.
I wander closer to the edge of the cliff, allowing the breathtaking view of the swollen river slicing through the craggy mountains to settle me, fill me. The river drops off to the far left into the waterfall that can be seen from one side of the castle, but I can’t quite see the castle itself from this vantage point. Armin and my father would often scale the cliff behind this outcropping. From there, on a clear day, the castle and the entire mountain range around it can be seen.
I never enjoyed that climb myself. I never needed to feel as though the entire world was at my feet. And that was okay. As I now understand it.
My father builds a small fire, using three calf-high boulders previously gathered in an arc as a windbreak. He builds the fire by hand, though he could have one blazing in mere minutes if he used his telekinesis.
Still gazing out at the view, I perch on the middle boulder with my back to the firepit, pleased that my jacket is long enough to cover my ass. The sun, reflecting off the snow and the rock, is warm on my face.
“Are you going to tell me why one of my chosen is hiding the details of an incident that took place in London two days ago?” my father asks mildly, striking two rocks together, then using just a touch of essence to enhance the resulting spark. It sets the dry moss alight under a triangle of branches.
“Raoul?” I ask, already knowing the answer while also trying to hide my amusement.
“Who else?” my father grumbles, blowing lightly to coax the tiny licks of fire from the moss to the kindling.
“Perhaps he’s still gathering all the intel,” I say. “To present it properly.”
My father huffs. “And the annoyingly thick stack of paperwork on my desk from Lord Hereford? And the bank draft from Lord Savoy buying out Rian Callaghan’s contract? None of it submitted for my input or approval.”
I just hum agreeably.
“Eleanor has already sent the staff in to relocate our rooms at Lake Thun,” my father continues. “Because you’ll apparently need more room now.”
“That’s lovely of her,” I say.
“And the two children you brought with you? The younger is an awry.”
“I know.”
“A seer?”
“I believe so.”
Satisfied that the fire has taken, my father steps over to the edge of the cliff, standing far closer to the sheer drop than I had. He looks out across the winding river, back stiff and hands on his hips. Then with a heavy sigh, he turns and sits down next to me.
“So we’re not talking about any of that,” he says.
“We’ll stay for a few days,” I say mildly.
We sit together, taking in the view for long enough that the fire begins to warm my back. Then I take Armin’s urn out of my backpack and place it on the ground before us.
“I haven’t been here,” my father says, “since Armin … left us. Eleanor asked me to bring the twins last week … I made an excuse about the snowpack melting too quickly.” Plumes of white mist — condensation from the cold — punctuate his words. “She let me get away with the lie.”
“Fresh snow last night,” I say, not agreeing or disagreeing with him.
He huffs a laugh. “Why is it that the child who didn’t inherit my power is the one most like me? Had you … you I never had to worry about … you never would have …” He takes a shuddering breath. “I was hard on Armin. I had to be hard on him. You know what normally happens to awry telepaths or telekinetics.”
“They go mad. Or tear themselves apart.”
“I thought his mother’s blood would dilute my own. When I realized it hadn’t, I thought I was going to lose Armin when his powers manifested. I prepared for it. But then, he had you. You as his counterbalance. And he survived his manifestation, then his teens, and …”
“Almost his twenties.”
We fall silent for a moment, both thinking of Armin.
“Christoph tells me that a crown of purple myrtle appears around my head,” I say, “when I give my power … freedom.”
My father looks at me then. “I haven’t seen it since the night you saved Armin from those kidnappers. But yes. From your mother’s lineage. Goddess-touched, they call it.”
