“Well, for one, you don’t have to die now.”
His mouth came open, his tongue moving to the inside of his cheek. “Where’s the dagger?”
“Drake has it.”
David looked at Arthur accusingly. “You gave it to him?”
“I would do no such thing.”
“Uncle, the lengths you’ve gone to to keep it from me all this time, I wouldn’t be surprised if you set that meeting up for her and Drake.”
“He didn’t, okay?” I took a step closer, kind of moving between David and Arthur. “I called him on the phone and I arranged the meeting.”
“Did you know about this?” David looked at Jason.
“I knew she’d arranged it, but didn’t know it was today.”
David stepped back and ran his hands through his hair. “So what now? You’re just gonna hand your child over to him and let him rule our people again?”
“No.”
“Then what did you agree to, Ara?” He reached out and grabbed both my arms; it hurt a little but I was, in a really sick way, just happy he’d touched me again.
“I can’t fight the contract, David. We never could. When he told me that the dagger has no use—” I said, leaving off the bit about it resurrecting Lilith, “—I was given little choice but to agree to uphold the original deal.”
“You did what?” David yelled. “Ara, how could you be so stupid? Do you realise what you’ve done?”
“Yes. I made an agreement to keep our monarchy safe for eternity, David.”
“In exchange for a living being?”
“Not entirely.”
“And what does that mean?” He held out an upturned palm, offering me the floor. “Don’t be cryptic with me, Ara. Get to the point.”
I blinked a few extra times, trying to keep my cool. “I would get to the point if you’d shut up and let me speak.”
“Then speak!”
Grrr. “Instead of Drake coming for my baby when she’s born, raising her in that hell hole, he’s agreed to let me keep her until she’s eighteen.”
“And what then?” David asked sarcastically. “He’s gonna take her away from us?”
“Us?” I said, half laughing with incredulity. “There is no us, David. You said it yourself, she’s not your daughter.”
Arthur looked at David quickly. “You said that to her?”
David looked away. “So, he’s gone? Drake? He’s gonna leave us alone until she’s eighteen?”
“Yes, David, we get eighteen years of safety and. . .”
“And then we lose our daughter, Ara! Do you think you’ve fixed this? Did you think that by swearing over your own flesh and blood it’d make you a good queen?”
“No,” I said through my teeth, stepping into him with fists tight. “It makes me a great queen, David. Because I am willing to put the safety of my people before my own flesh and blood—as every great leader before me, in the human and the supernatural world has or should do. What does a president do if his daughter is kidnapped and held for ransom?”
“He does not negotiate!” David yelled.
“And I did not negotiate, either. I could run. I could take the child away, but our people will die—my family, my friends, and for what?”
“For her life.”
“One life,” I yelled. “One life that will likely grow up and seek him out anyway, David.”
“And why on earth would she do that?”
“Because she is the reincarnated soul of Anandene.”
David stumbled back a few steps, staring down at my belly. “No.”
“Yes,” I said. “Don’t you see? I was given a choice to keep my people safe at the expense of myself, and I chose that road. I could not put our blood, our hopes or dreams before my people. And if I had it to do over, I’d do it all the same.”
He turned away and looked out through the windows above the door.
“At least, this way, there is still hope. We can train her to be a fighter. We can spend the next eighteen years searching for a way to kill Drake—”
“There is no way to kill Drake!” He spun around. “He’s a monster. A godforsaken immortal demon, Ara. And you promised him our—” He broke then, holding his fist to his mouth.
In the silence that lingered, the staff hurried past, busying themselves in the Great Hall, setting up for the ball tonight. We all stood there lost in our own thoughts, trying to find reason among the grey of uncertainty. None of what I’d just told David could go any further than the four of us standing here right now, yet all of it had been exposed in open quarters. I worried then for the concealment of this secret.
“You’d have done the same, son,” Arthur said, and all eyes turned to him. “You know that.”
David didn’t say anything. He just looked at me, then back at his uncle, and turned away, walking swiftly off toward the west wing.
When he disappeared, finally out of earshot, I lowered my voice and muttered, “It gets worse.”
“What does?” Arthur moved in a step, obviously catching on that whatever I was about to add wasn’t for all ears.
“Drake told me that the dagger had been stolen once before—”
“Yes, many decades ago.”
“He said it was a woman he trusted—that she brought it here.”
“Yes,” Arthur said, nodding once, though he didn’t seem to be following me.
“Arthur, there is only one girl I can think of that’s linked both to Drake and to the Lilithians.”
“Morgaine,” Jase said.
“Yes. And you said she knew about the dagger early on, that she changed the contract and made it look like a prophecy. I think she’s been plotting against us this whole time.”
“We’ve all had our suspicions about Morgaine at one point, Amara, but we’ve no proof she’s against us—or a motive. She may have taken the dagger to protect you.”
“Protect me?” I scoffed. “From what? The dagger is useless,” I lied. “What I want to know is, if she took the dagger from Drake, did she know all along that it wouldn’t kill him? And if she did, why did she let us believe it would? What the hell is she playing at?”
“Ask her,” Jase said simply.
“Ask her?” I looked all the way up at him. “What, just storm in there and ask her what the deal is?”