Page 209 of Mother of Death and Dawn

Ishqa almost cringed. He stepped closed to Ezra. “We have discussed this, Ezra. Ela’Dar.”

“Ela’Dar is not my home. Niraja was my home.”

I shot Tisaanah a look that said,What the hell are we doing here?

This man—this supposed king—seemed like he didn’t even know how to string a conversation together.

“We talked about this, Ezra.” A hint of exasperation seeped into Ishqa’s voice. “Do you remember our previous meetings?”

“I don’t…” Ezra went to the window and looked out into the forest. “I struggle to remember things, these days. We did meet, I suppose.”

“We did. I do not want you to miss this opportunity. In ruling Ela’Dar, you could bring back the spirit of Niraja. You could make Fey society everything you had hoped for your kingdom.”

Ezra let out a bitter laugh, rough as torn paper.

“I remember little of the last five hundred years,” he said. “I won’t pretend otherwise. But the last thing I do remember is that Fey society destroyed my kingdom.”

“Things can be different—”

Ezra turned in one sudden lurch, and I found myself stepping in front of Tisaanah on instinct.

“What does it matter to any of you who sits on Ela’Dar’s throne?” he spat.

“You had a dream,” Ishqa said. “A unified world in which Fey and humans lived together in peace. King Caduan is not amenable to such a dream.”

“Caduan?” Ezra’s brow creased. “I think I have met him.”

“Ela’Dar’s king is actively hostile to such a future. But… the whispers that I have discussed with you still ring louder. There are many Fey in Ela’Dar who remember you. And many of Caduan Iero’s people do not forget his lack of old royal blood.”

“Caduan Iero,” Ezra repeated, his stare glassy. “Yes, Idoremember him. He was a kind man. What difference does it make if he has old royal blood?”

“It matters to some of his people.” Ishqa’s voice was a little strained, like someone who was struggling to keep their patience while talking to a child. “It certainly matters to those who would back you. You have a rightful claim to any Fey crown, Ezra. Five hundred years ago, you had a vision, and you built a beautiful kingdom with it. The Fey need that vision, now. A vision of creation instead of destruction. A vision of unity.” He gestured to us. “And you would have the support of the leaders of the humans.”

Excuse me?

Tisaanah and I exchanged another alarmed look.

Ezra turned and regarded us all in silence, a cacophony of subtle emotions passing over his ageless face.

“You are asking me to be a king again,” he said.

“Yes, Ezra. I am.”

“The last time I was a king, I lost everything. Thanks in no small part to the actions of your people.”

“I know,” Ishqa said, softly. “And I will spend the rest of my days trying to correct the mistakes I made then.”

Ezra turned away, arms crossed over his body. I noticed for the first time how thin he was—the knobs of his spine pronounced beneath the skin of the back of his neck, his shoulder blades visible even through the fabric of his shirt.

“My kingdom was beautiful once.” He peered over his shoulder at Tisaanah and I. “You cannot possibly understand, without having seen it, what it was like there. A place that thrived against every injustice.” His gaze slipped back to the forest—slipped back to the past. “But what would the point be in creating such a thing again? I built it for my family.”

Ishqa said, quietly, “Athalena would have wanted you to do this.”

“I buried my wife in her last dream. Why would I grant her ghost another?”

“Because your life is not over yet, Ezra.”

Ezra was silent for a long, long moment. I was certain this conversation was over.

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