Page 20 of The Kingdom's Reckoning
"She said to tell you not to fear your true self. That you"—Myra wrung her hands together, struggling to remember the seer’s exact words—"you have to embrace it."
Graeson looked around the hall at the people who still lingered outside the council room. He took a small step closer. "Are you sure that’s what she said?"
Myra nodded. She was positive.
"Why didn’t you tell me sooner?"
Myra flinched, realizing her mistake. "I—I didn’t mean to?—"
Laurince stepped in between them and pressed a hand against Graeson’s chest, preventing him from coming any closer. "It’s been a long day—actually, a long fucking few months. Lay off."
Graeson glanced down at Laurince’s hand, his nose twitching. The two men nearly stood toe-to-toe, almost matching in both height and stature. With one movement, Graeson swiped it away as if the caption was no more than a fly. To Laurince’s credit, he didn’t shrink back and instead held his ground.
"Do you know what she meant?" Myra asked, ignoring the overwhelming stench of masculinity.
Graeson’s attention snapped to her, and something she couldn’t pinpoint flashed across his face. He retreated one step, then another.
"It’s not important," he said before storming off in the opposite direction, his hands curled into tight fists.
"Did I—did I say something wrong?" Myra asked, staring blankly at Graeson’s back before he disappeared down an adjoining hall.
Laurince was silent beside her, and she couldn’t blame him. Graeson was an anomaly she didn’t think anyone fully understood. But there was something there, something she had spotted before he had spun around. She only hoped that whatever it was, whatever he had to embrace, he would be able to do it before it was too late.
Chapter 8
GRAESON
When Graeson tiltedhis head up, the sun streamed through the foliage, and cracks of light fell upon the ground in broken, golden fragments. The leaves above rustled as the birds zipped around the branches and fled toward the sky.
Graeson’s throat was torn, scratched raw from the anguish that had poured out of him. He collapsed on the ground, his pain and sorrow too great to bear. On his hands and knees, he dug his fingers into the ground, and dirt piled beneath his nail beds. His breaths were short and labored. No matter how much he tried, he couldn’t inhale a full breath, the oxygen cutting off before it reached his lungs.
As a breeze swept through the woods, the wind barely kissed his cheeks as if it, too, was afraid of the beast that had created such a disturbance in the forest. Still, the little wind that dared to get close was cool enough for him to notice that his cheeks were damp.
His mother was alive, and he had gone his entire life without knowing.
Not even a year ago, Graeson had been in Ardentol, inside the very castle she was being held captive. Graeson hadn’t even known. He hadn’t?—
"I did not take my son for a crier," Barinthian’s voice broke through the trees like a wave crashing against the shore.
Graeson squeezed his eyes shut, willing the tears to disappear. They were not for the god, and Barinthian, father or not, did not deserve to see them.
The god chuckled, the sound stirring up the fallen auburn leaves that covered the forest floor. "At least you’re not denying your heritage," Barinthian said when Graeson didn’t respond.
Graeson scanned the area even though it was useless. The god never showed himself, instead opting to hide within the shadows. The smell of mildew and decaying leaves filled his nostrils. Other than the sound of quivering leaves, silence enveloped the space. Even the critters had gone quiet.
"What do you want?" Graeson demanded.
"What I have always wanted: for you to become the god you were born to be." Barinthian’s voice sent a chill skittering across Graeson’s back. And although Graeson could feel Barinthian’s eyes on him, the god was still nowhere to be found.
"Did you know?"
Barinthian sighed, clearly annoyed by Graeson’s diversion. "Know what?"
Graeson pushed himself off the ground. His limbs shook, and the muscles in his back strained as if his wrath flooded his bloodstream. "That my mother was alive."
"Oh,that," Barinthian said as if they were merely discussing the color of the sky. "Yes."
"Yes?" Graeson twisted toward Barinthian’s voice, but the direction from which it came kept shifting as if it flew on the wind itself. "And you didn’t bother to tell me?"
