Page 65 of Master of Storms
It felt strange to know this clan was one his people had always reviled. TheZilittuwere savage, untrustworthy, and ambitious. But there was a beauty and acceptance here that he hadn’t expected to find. One that almost tempted him too.
Unless that was exactly what this show was designed to do.
“Come,” Andromeda said, linking arms with Ishtar. “I have been doing some asking around. You have relatives here, through your mother’s side.”
Árdís met his gaze.
“If they’re hiding anything, I can’t sense it,” she told him psychically. “There’s so much magic being woven here that I can’t focus on it all.”
“The perfect place to hide the key,” he replied.
“Indeed.”
“This way,” Andromeda called, leading them toward a small hut near the back of the village.
It felt surreal to know this was where his mother had grown up. Marduk couldn’t help trailing his fingers over the nearest fence, wondering if this place would give him the missing piece of himself that he’d spent a lifetime looking for.
Inside, the cottage was spotlessly clean. A tall young woman ladled soup into a bowl, and as her gray eyes flashed to his, he realized it was Viveka.
To find Draco’s sister handing soup to one of the oldestdrekihe’d ever seen was a shock. He’d heard rumors of Viveka of the Northern Mists. She’d fought at Draco’s side when he overthrew his father, and they said her sword had wept with blood for days.
“It’s a good morning,” Viveka murmured to Andromeda, though her eyes were neutral as she looked them over. “Don’t irritate her.”
“We won’t,” Árdís assured her.
“This is Klara,” Andromeda said, picking up a shawl and settling it over the shoulders of the old lady sitting by the hearth. “I believe she is your great-aunt.”
Marduk searched the old woman’s face. His father’s parents had been a mated pair who passed into the winds together before he was born, and King Reynar had been their only son.
He’d never known grandparents or aunts or uncles. Only his uncle Stellan, and he and his sons had been the bane of Marduk’s earlier life.
“Klara, this is Árdís, Marduk, and Ishtar,” Andromeda said gently. “They are blood of your blood.”
The wizened old lady turned her face toward him. Her eyes were completely white, and it was clear she was blind. “Marduk?” She reached for him, most likely because he was closest. “A powerful name.”
Marduk’s hand shook as he touched hers.
A gentle wind scoured his hair back from his face, caressing his cheeks, as if she was learning him with her magic.
And then Klara hissed and drew her hand back as if scalded. “You,” she spat. “You’re one of hers.”
“Hers?”
“My niece.” The way she said the word sounded like a curse. “Amadea killed my sister. Her own mother. I know she did!”
Andromeda’s jaw gaped open, and she tried to settle the old woman. “Klara, your sister died from heart failure. It was years ago—”
“It was Amadea!” She shoved Andromeda’s hands away from her. “I know it was her. That writhing little snake. She got her throne and her crown, didn’t she? By ending my sister’s life.”
“Easy, now,” Viveka murmured, trying to grab the older woman’s arm. “You’re going to hurt yourself.”
Klara sobbed. “I can sense her all over you. She’s a stain on your soul. Her wickedness fills you.”
“She’s dead,” Marduk tried to say. “My mother’s dead. And she was no kinder to us than she was to you.”
“She’s not dead,” she hissed. “I can smell her magic all over you—"
“You should go,” Viveka murmured, her eyes on the older woman. “You’re only upsetting her.”
