Page 20 of These Divided Shores
“Clear,” Gunnar said.
Ben noticed it too. Outside the prison, a weight had lifted, as though it had been night and now the sun had risen. He had assumed the guards were altering the foodor water, but if that wasn’t the case, where was the magic coming from?
Jakes sat outside the cage, frowning from Ben to Gunnar. The boat listed and Ben caught himself on Gunnar’s knee.
A defensor started the engine, but Jakes lifted his hand.
“We’re to wait for Andreu,” Jakes said. “You might see what is keeping him.”
Two defensors leaped off the boat while one remained in the pilothouse, out of earshot.
“Andreu?” Ben whispered. “Lu’s father?”
Jakes shrugged.
With a grimace, Ben tried again. “Where is mine having me brought?”
Jakes squinted, calculation veiling his face. “How long have you hated your father?”
“You didn’t answer my question.”
“Answer mine.” A defensor, making a demand of his prince.
“Six years.”
“Six—” Jakes’s whole body rocked. “You expect me to believe that you hated him in secret all this time? You were loyal. I saw your devotion.”
You’re right, Ben almost said. He hadn’t realized how much he hated his father until recently. His hatred had grown over time, watered and nourished by every burning, every violent act, every beating and broken bone and reprimand.
This was the first time Ben had looked into Jakes’s eyesas his true self. Their conversations had been brief these past weeks, interrupted by monxes or cut off by Jakes’s angry sulking. Ben hadn’t had the chance—or desire—to explain his choices.
The defensor in the pilothouse looked at them, a question in his frown, but Jakes flicked his hand at his comrade in dismissal.
“All those weeks on theAstuto”—Jakes leaned closer—“you never intended to create permanent magic, did you?”
“No.”
Jakes dragged his hand down his face, laughing in incredulity. “But you tried to make the cure for Shaking Sickness. This isn’t any different—good will come of it. You don’t understand how much the world needs this power.”
“After the horrific acts you’ve seen my father do, how can you believe that giving him permanent magic will make the world better?”
Jakes jerked back from the cage, face set. He started humming that song he always fell back on when he was anxious, the one his sister had written. The smallness of the cage meant Ben couldn’t get away from it.
A detail snapped into place. Ben teetered, catching himself on Gunnar’s knee again. Gunnar cocked his head, but Ben only gaped back, unable to look at Jakes.
“You told me your sister and her children died of Shaking Sickness,” Ben breathed.
Jakes stopped humming.
“You betrayed me”—Ben licked his lips—“to further Elazar’s goal of permanent magic. But through Elazar’s own attempts, he gave uncountable victims Shaking Sickness. Which you knew. Yet you allied with him, even though he killed your sister.”
Ben turned. He wished he hadn’t, seeing the pain that flowed out of Jakes’s face. He couldn’t afford sympathy.
“My father killed your sister,” Ben repeated. “Didn’t he?”
A deadly level of resolve set Jakes’s eyes. “Elazar did not kill her.”
“She died of Shaking Sickness,” Ben pressed, his hand braced on Gunnar’s knee as the prison transport listed. “You told me that was how she died. And—and her children, too?”
