Morgaine moved one shoulder up slowly. “You never know who might surprise you as the one who reveals the most secrets, Amara.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
She eyed me critically. “Nothing. Anyway, there was something else you wanted to ask me, wasn’t there?”
“Yes. How did you—?”
“My ability to understand another person goes a little deeper than pure empathy, My Queen. What did you want to know?”
My arms fell heavily to my sides with the breath I exhaled. “What do you know about Lilith’s children?”
“Um.” She frowned. “Not much. Why?”
“Morgana.”
“What about her?”
“David found some more information on her—”
“Where?”
“In the Scroll Room.”
“Where in there?” She took one step in that direction. “I’ve been right through there. I never found anything.”
“Didn’t know you were looking.”
“Of course I was. I’m trying to piece this together as much as you are. So—” She rolled her hand at the wrist, prompting me. “What did he find?”
“She was a half-blood witch. We think Drake may have her—if she lived.”
“Why would Drake have her?”
I shrugged. “Well, where is she? Where did she go? If she simply died, there’d be more information on her. Someone has gone to great lengths to ensure no one ever asked questions about her.”
Morgaine nodded thoughtfully. “True. But, why would Drake have her? Maybe she’s alive, living out there somewhere.”
“Because Drake killed anyone who had any allegiance to Lilith, but Morgana was probably very powerful, maybe served a purpose. Or maybe he’s just kept her to torture her all these years for being the blood of Lilith.”
“Torturing her?” Morgaine nearly rocketed forward, then sobered herself, straightening her shirt. “He wouldn’t do that.”
“Why not? He did it to me, and he ordered his own son’s death.”
“What son?”
“The boy, the blond one I killed at the castle.”
She frowned, her eyes drifting down the hall. “That wasn’t his son.”
“Yes, it was. Arthur told me—”
“Oh.” She nodded, smiling to herself. “Arthur told you.”
“Yes.”
“Why did he tell you that?”
“I don’t know. We were just talking and—”
“Oh. I see.”
“What?”
“He wanted you to feel better about that, right?”
“No. He was telling me about Drake’s incestuous behaviour and the monsters he created from it, and—”
“Okay. First of all—” She laughed, holding her index finger up. “Drake was not incestuous.”
“He wasn’t?”
“No. He had a child with a woman who was his great granddaughter by blood, but he didn’t know that at the time.”
“And … that was that the boy I killed?”
“No. You killed Simon.”
“Who was he?”
“He was vile, but he wasn't Drake’s creation. Okay, maybe he was, but not his son.”
“How was he Drake’s creation?”
“Drake adopted Simon when he was a small boy. He’d been living in the slums of streets infested with disease and plague for months on his own, feeding off rats and all sorts. When Drake found him, he’d been exposed to some horrific situations, including brutal rape by passing travellers.”
I covered my mouth.
“The child was a mess,” she continued. “Drake taught him to be a vampire from a young age—taught him to kill, to transfer his rage onto those who would become his next meal. But, on Simon’s twentieth birthday, when Drake turned him, the heightened vampiric emotions took anything sweet and human we once saw in him and burned it.”
“So, he created a monster?”
“Yes, and Drake had grown to love Simon too much to lock him away, but the boy just couldn’t be controlled. That is the only reason he was killed. Drake is not that cruel, and he would not have kidnapped Morgana, if she even existed.”
“What makes you so sure? And why the sudden change in opinion about Drake?”
She exhaled through her nose, her jaw stiff, hands tight by her sides. “Well, it’s actually not sudden.”
“Uh, yes, it is.”
“No. I’ve just. . .” She loosened her fists. “I just keep my opinions to myself if they oppose that of the greater mass.”
My mouth fell open in disgust.
“Don’t judge me.” She pointed in my face. “It’s how I’ve survive in a world of vampires that hate my kind.”
I pushed her hand down. “Fine. But I didn’t realise you were Pro-Drake.”
“Hey! I so am not.” Her tone softened then. “But he’s not as bad as everyone says, either.”
I folded my arms and leaned on the wall. “That’s what I’m always saying.”
“I know.” She smiled and patted my arm. “But you just haven’t learned yet that sometimes your opinion is the least important part of ruling a nation.”
“Then what’s the most important, smarty pants?”
“Playing the game,” she said, and folded her arms slowly, adopting my coy grin. “Agree to be agreeable until the masses agree with the opinion you’re keeping to yourself. If you’re right, that eventually becomes evident. You don’t need to kick and scream to make people see your side, Amara. Only time can really do that.”
“So, you think Drake is agreeable?”
She leaned on the wall beside me, propping her foot up under her thigh. “Yes.”
“Then, I have to kick and scream, Morg, to make my voice heard here. If we can reason with Drake, then David doesn’t need to go to his death.”
“So go tell him that.”
“Who?”
“Drake.” She whipped her phone out of her pocket and held it out to me. “Call him up. Ask him if he wants to negotiate.”
I laughed, pushing the phone away. “Very funny.”
She placed it back in her pocket. “David's going to Elysium to free the prisoners tomorrow, right?”
“Yeah.”
“He’ll be freeing Pepper?”
“Yeah.”