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Stunned, I stated, “You mean he has abandoned my brother when he needs him most. Because of me.”
Athelyn, ever the proper diplomatic Issosian, did not reply. He didn’t need to.
“Were his injuries…?” I asked, unsure what to say of them.
“He recovered. The palace healer managed to stop the bleeding and mend the wounds.” He flinched, likely when he saw my face go pale at the memory of that day. “I apologize, Princess.”
“No need.”
Gael may not have deserved the injuries for the reasons Goll chopped off his fingers, but his abandonment of my brother burned a new bitterness in me for the man who might have once been my husband. I couldn’t imagine it now. I couldn’t imagine giving myself to any other but Goll.
“It is no longer princess, Athelyn. My title is mizrah now.”
He blinked, surprise widening his gaze. “You are their queen?” he asked in a hushed whisper.
I smiled, a little sadness welling in my heart. Like so many Issosians, he thought a wraith king’s first concubine was a queen. But that was not her role. Still, I cherished what I’d become to Goll and what he’d become to me.
What happened in that cave had changed us both. We weren’t merely creatures of flesh. I wasn’t simply a brood mare, and he wasn’t only a tyrannical ruler driven to sire an heir. We were bound now beyond words and titles. The cool sting of the bite at my shoulder reminded me of who I truly was, making me more certain of my place in Goll’s world.
“How is Baelynn?” I asked softly.
Remorse swept through me, thinking of my brother’s stricken face as I was taken from the Moon Temple. That look of horror and regret and shame while he watched me being dragged away had burned itself in my mind. I’d avoided thinking of Baelynn as much as I could since I was so absorbed in adapting to my new reality, navigating my new life.
“He is well,” Athelyn answered, but there was a grim set to his mouth. “He worries about you daily.”
I pressed a palm to my heart. For so long, Baelynn and I had depended on each other. Our mother had died when I was very young. When Papa fell ill, we’d relied heavily on one another for guidance and comfort and solace.
I noticed Athelyn had averted his gaze to the floor. Something was wrong.
“What aren’t you telling me?”
His eyes widened. “Pardon me?”
“There’s something you aren’t telling me, Athelyn. I demand to know.”
His training as a servant to the royal family seemed to click into place as he heaved out a sigh. “Your brother is showing the first signs of Parviana.”
My stomach fell like a heavy stone as I sucked in a breath. “No.” I shook my head. “Please tell me no.”
He clenched his jaw then added, “He is still able to do all the things he could before. It’s very early yet.”
In my father’s early stage of the disease, he would simply freeze in the middle of doing something and forget why he was even in the room. For Baelynn, ever the in-control master of himself, that alone would be a nightmare.
I had to find the god-touched texts. And fast. I couldn’t allow my brother to succumb to this awful plague like my father. For even though Athelyn didn’t say it, I knew my father was not long for this world.
Clearing my throat, I straightened and said, “Please assure Baelynn that all is truly well. Tell him that I am sure my path is guided by the gods here.” Though I wasn’t sure it was our Goddess Lumera anymore.
Athelyn breathed out a genuine sigh of relief. “I will gladly bring him such news. It will make him very happy to hear this.”
At least I could put his mind at ease while I searched for a cure to save him, and hopefully Father and all the afflicted.
“And how is the rebuilding going?” I asked, knowing that would be a monumental task.
“Better than we could’ve imagined. Of course”—he chuckled—“the wraith fae are brawnier than our lot, and that actually makes them much better builders.”
Pursing my brow in confusion, I asked, “What do you mean the wraith fae are better builders?”
“The conscripts King Gollaya sent us.”
