Page 12 of A Dagger of Ice and Intrigue
Worst of all, he was a selfish leader. The Serpent Clan had thousands of souls which needed Fabrian’s protection and guidance. He’d guide all of them into an early grave if left to his own devices. Not even that fearsome advisor of his–who was curiously missing today–had managed to stave off Fabrian’s most violent proclivities.
“Where’s Varen?” I asked. For a Serpent, the advisor seemed decent enough and had a quick mind to match.
“I’ve only heard rumors,” Dax said hesitantly.
“I’d like to hear them, too.”
“Varen’s sister is apparently pregnant and not too happy people know it. She’s hidden on some island and her brother went along to protect her.”
“Against what?” I asked, my stomach churning, because I already knew the answer.
Dax hesitated.
“They say it’s Fabrian’s child,” Dara went on when her brother wouldn’t. “And we’ve all heard the stories of what happens to his bastards.”
The blight that was anything but. Fabrian’s whoring ways had left a trail of babes dead in their cradles before they managed to reach their third month.
Some suspected poison.
Most who dared whisper about it blamed dark magic–or Fabrian’s rotten soul.
And this was the man Evie tried to convince me she loved.
“For gods’ sake.” I downed my glass in one gulp, yanked Dax’s and polished it off, despite his protests. My stomach rumbled in protest. “This is insane.”
Clara placed a gentle hand on my back. “Maybe if Evie knew about this…”
“She knows. I’ve tried reasoning with her. She doesn’t seem to care about Fabrian’spast,” I said. “She kept calling himher lump.”
“Let’s hope she doesn’t want children.” Dax grimaced as Fabrian struggled to fix his garish snakeskin lapels; everyone needed to know he wastheheir. “She’d have fucking ugly babies with this dolt.”
“Stupid, too,” Dara said in that calm, measured way of hers. “Let’s pray they’ll take after Evie, though. Vegheara blood is stubborn.”
“And powerful.” Clara sighed, pushing her golden hair behind her ears. “Grandpa Constantine would have hated this.”
“Grandpa Constantine would have done something,” Dara said.
Yes, he would have.
Before she’d been taken away from us, Evie had been his princess.
On his deathbed, when old age had finally brittled his bones and drained his legendary powers, half-gone, with nobody but us grandchildren brave enough to stand by his side until the end, he’d kept crying out for Evie. In his last lucid moments, he called losing her his greatest failure–as a leader, as a man, as a grandfather, as the great patriarch of our Protectorate First Family.
“You will have to take the stubborn reins of this Clan, Allie. The sooner you can, the better. Your father is a good man, but I didn’t raise him to rule.“ Grandpa Constantine had said during our last afternoon tea, a tradition he’d started right after I’d lost my last baby tooth and he’d finally come to terms with Evie’s disappearance. He’d reclined in his bed like he was sitting on his throne, a faraway look in his eyes. “You, on the other hand, are powerful.”
“Dad’s powers are strong, too,” I’d protested like the perfect dutiful First Daughter, though I’d mostly heard, rather than seen my father use them. “I inherited mine from him.”
Grandpa Constantine shook his head. “I mean in spirit. Nothing can break yours.”
I’d hidden my smile in my teacup. “Dad says I need to learn to bend it.”
“That is sage counsel–for an advisor, which Alaric should have been. A leader has a different responsibility. The rest need to bend to your rule.” He’d blinked up at his canopied bed as his teacup began to tremble. “Evil times are coming, Allie. I can feel it. Be careful who you make enemies of, but be even more cautious of your allies. They’re the ones who can get close enough to stab you in the back.”
That had been his last warning.
Shamefully, I hadn’t heeded it.
The last guests giggled their way into the courtyard and the harp player began to pull the delicate strings.
