He glowered at her, but she could tell there wasn’t any actual disdain in it. “I would mention that I don’t l-like being tee-tr-treated like a child, but it seems painless.”
“Pointless,” she smiled, “and yes it is.” Leaving the barn, she walked toward Lentli’s cabin. That was where Grrake stayed, mostly. Lentli had been horrified upon realizing the disaster he’d accidentally caused, and had been especially obliging to both Grrake and Yhkon in anything they wanted since, though Yhkon gave Lentli no more grace than he gave the rest of them. So the barn had become Yhkon’s haven, the cabin Grrake’s.
Inside, Grrake sat alone, staring at the floor. She could almost never look at him anymore without sympathy wrenching her heart. It just wasn’t right. Both he and Yhkon were in so much pain, caused by one another, when only a week ago they had been each other’s closest and most trusted friends. She knew Grrake loved Yhkon, perhaps more than any other father she’d ever met. So she had to believe that there was some explanation for what he’d done. “Grrake?”
He glanced up enough to see who it was, and made a pitiful attempt at a smile that only made her feel worse for him.
“Hi.” She moved closer to sit down next to him. He leaned forward, elbows on knees, hands loosely clasped. A pose she’d seen Yhkon in so many times. Now that she knew they were father and son, it sometimes surprised her she hadn’t guessed it long ago. They looked alike, talked alike, shared so many mannerisms…even if in personality, they were such opposites. “So, I was just talking to Yhkon.”
He immediately became more attentive. “Is he alright?”
How am I supposed to answer that? “He’s his usual…anyway, well, I tried to tell him I thought he should let you explain things.”
Grrake’s interest faded into discouragement. “He won’t.”
His voice was so hopeless. She mustered some reassurance. “No, he won’t, but I offered to get the explanation instead then relay it to him, and he mostly agreed.” She watched for his reaction, realizing she hadn’t even thought about whether or not Grrake would be willing to tell her. “Would that work…?”
He sat back in the chair, rubbing his hands over his knees. There was a strange mixture of the hope that had just been so absent, and reluctance in his expression. “Of course I’ll tell you,” he said finally. “It’s just…I keep telling myself that if he only knew, he might at least hate me less…but honestly I’m not sure if he will.”
Talea cringed. She didn’t even know what the explanation would be, yet she’d wondered the same thing. Yhkon was so angry and hurt…was there any explanation that would be good enough for him? “Well…only one way to find out.” And he deserves to know.
“I know.” He nodded. “But he’s not going to take it well. Are you sure you want to be the one to tell him?”
Ha. What an excellent question. “I’m not sure he’ll take it at all, from anyone else. And if there’s a chance it will help…then yes.”
Grrake gave her the slightest of appreciative smiles, quickly replaced by a pained frown as he continued. “Alright. Tell him…that his mother’s name wasn’t Mayra. She was the mother of his siblings, but she died almost four years before he was born. His mother’s name was…” He bit his lip, so hard she thought it would bleed. “Shanteya Ken’d’Valsem. And if her father had known Yhkon was still alive after his siblings died in Zentyre…he would have killed him. That’s why I didn’t tell him, or anyone, who he was.”
“Shanteya Ken’d’Valsem,” she echoed. “Why does that name sound familiar? And why would her father want to kill his own grandson?”
He grimaced. “Yhkon will know. Just tell him, I’m sure he’ll send you back for more details.”
Uncertain, she stood up, hesitating. When he still offered nothing more, she left. As she returned to the barn she mulled the explanation that, as far as she could tell, hadn’t explained much. And if it was such a secret, why did Yhkon’s mother’s name sound so familiar?
Yhkon was pacing when she entered but stopped. He watched her approach. Expectant.
Why, again, did I agree to get into the middle of this? “Okay. So…” She couldn’t decide if standing or sitting would be better. Sitting. Settling onto the edge of the hay bale, she took a deep breath. Just say it fast. “He says your mother’s name wasn’t Mayra. That was your siblings’ mother, but she died four years before you were born. Your real mother’s name was Shanteya Ken’d’Valsem and her father would have tried to kill you—”
Yhkon went from standing passively a few feet away, to right in front of her in less than a second. “What?”
His icy, infuriated eyes were so close and drilling so fiercely into hers that it took her a moment to regain her voice. “Um…that’s what he said. I thought the name sounded familiar…do you know her? Why would her father—”
He turned on his heel, snarling out profanities as he stormed out of the barn.
Talea remained seated, dazed. She had expected anger, confusion, maybe annoyance…not contempt. And where was he going? She jumped up and ran after him, catching up just as he reached the cabin. Oh dear. “Wait, uh, Yhkon!”
He didn’t wait. He ripped the door open so violently she thought it would fly off the hinges and smack her in the face. She scrambled inside after him, not entirely sure that she wouldn’t have to get in the middle of the mess physically.
Grrake stood up as Yhkon came in. He didn’t appear particularly excited for the encounter—not surprised, either.
Yhkon was so red-faced he looked like he could burst. “If you’re g-gone to lay-lie to me, fine, bet don’t th-tha-thank I’m so stupa-pid as to believe that—” He ended up on another string of oaths.
Grrake looked like he would rather melt into a crack between the floorboards, but he managed not to recoil, despite Yhkon’s aggressive words and posture. “I know it sounds crazy, but it’s true.”
“Really?” Yhkon gave a scornful laugh. “Shanteya K-Ken’d’Valsem.” He had remembered to slow down, making his speech impediment less noticeable. “Queen of Sa-n-nonyn. You didn’t just c-court her, you slept with her and—”
Queen? It clicked. Shanteya Ken’d’Valsem. That was the name of the queen of Sanonyn.
Talea could hardly blame Yhkon for his reaction.
Grrake was still standing firm. “That is not what happened. We eloped, we didn’t—”
“Oh!” Yhkon smirked. It was one thing when he was just angry. When he was sarcastic and mocking, it was even harder to watch. “So you’re now cla-climbing to be married to the queen of Sanonyn. Funny then that she already has a husb-band and t-two children.”
“We divorced!” Grrake was losing his composure, becoming desperate. “When you were four, her father found out about you, and wanted to kill both of us, to remove us as contenders for the throne. So I took you and your siblings to Zentyre. I only left you with Karren so I could throw the king’s men off your trail, but then the Eradication came and I couldn’t get back to you…” He paused, as if expecting another outburst. Yhkon was completely silent. Almost mumbling, Grrake continued. “When it finally ended…they found me as I was coming back to Zentyre to you and your siblings. So I told them you had been killed, and I agreed to divorce Shanteya. Obviously you hadn’t,” he seemed surprised Yhkon was still letting him talk, “but I knew the king didn’t trust me and would be waiting for the first sign that you were still alive. No one could know that you were my son, or he would have found out and killed you, as he considered you an illegitimate heir.”