Page 131 of Requiem of Silence

Papa’s nostrils flared and he snorted, but didn’t speak.

“Eminette was such a bright light. I had high hopes for her life.”

Varten couldn’t hold himself back. “She had a good life,” he said. “She was happy and she loved us and she should have had better parents.”

Zinadeel raised a brow. “Maybe you’re right, child. Which one are you?”

“Varten,” he said through clenched teeth.

His grandfather’s gaze skated over him. “Well, Varten, this store represents just a fraction of my life’s work. I have built a small empire. I intended to give it to my children and for them to give it to theirs. Sadly, it appears there will be no more grandchildren. Vanesse does not seem inclined. So I have only you.”

He looked meaningfully at Varten, who shook his head. “What are you saying?”

“You are my heir, child. You and your brother. I have amassed wealth, businesses, investments, properties. I need someone to leave them to. Your sister wants me to have no contact with you, but you are my flesh and blood.”

“You talked to Jasminda?”

“I’m not surprised she didn’t tell you. But you are a grown man now, Varten. You don’t need protecting, do you? You’re old enough to make your own decisions.”

Next to him, Papa had turned to stone. Zinadeel seemed content to ignore him. So much for being eager to meet him, as his employee had stated.

“And I should accept this, thisgenerosityof yours?” An inappropriate chuckle bubbled up from within him. “Thesemistakesyou’ve made, the ones you haven’t even bothered to apologize for? You expect me to just forget about them? Pretend they never happened?”

Zinadeel sighed as if the questions were greatly disappointing to him. “I did the best I knew how to do at the time. I could not have known how the outcome would… feel.”

Varten shook his head in disbelief.

“What I’m offering you,” the older man continued, “is freedom. Financial freedom and power and independence.”

“I’m a prince of Elsira, haven’t you heard?” Varten replied wryly.

“Purpose then. You’re a prince in name only, but every man needs a purpose, do they not?”

That stopped him short. He felt like he’d been slapped in the face, like somehow his grandfather had seen into his heart and noticed the splinter wedged inside it.

“You could learn to run the business—any of them. All of them. Do with them as you see fit. Is that something that would appeal to you?”

A traitorous part of his heart was tempted. Something of his own, a way to have an impact. He didn’t have magic or wisdom or any particular skill set that was useful, but he could learn, couldn’t he?

Then the reality of what that would truly mean hit. He’d be responsible for countless others, for employees and merchandise and cashflow—people’s livelihoods—all dependent upon him. His shoulders sagged.

Papa placed a hand on his arm and spoke to him in Lagrimari. “You know that I would never keep you from your mother’s family if that is what you want.”

“No, it isn’t what I want. I wouldn’t betray you and Jasminda like that.”

His father’s large hand squeezed him gently. “It isn’t betrayal you’re feeling. It isn’t even anger at him for what he’s done.” He narrowed his eyes. “Tell me what’s wrong, son.”

“All of that is in there. Somewhere. But he’s only offering this because I’m not a Singer. Because I don’t look like you.”

“Yes, but that’s not why you want to tell him no.” His father’s ability to read emotions had always been alternately a comfort and a curse. He couldn’t decide which one it was at this moment.

“If it weren’t because you thought it would disappoint us, would you say yes?” Papa asked.

Varten’s jaw trembled. “I don’t think so,” he whispered. “It’s too much responsibility. I can’t… I wouldn’t…” He shook his head. “I wouldn’t want to fail all those people.”

“Why do you think you would fail?”

“Because it’s what I do.”

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