After several minutes, Rhoden chanced to ask the question foremost on his mind.

“My father,” he said, bringing Rapidian out of his thoughts. “Did he know of this? About the Dryr and the Arnyr?”

“Yes,” said Rapidian simply. “Garazor knew about the Arnyr. He came to know of them through his association with your uncle. Horst was convinced of your father’s earnest desire to know the truth, and so he brought him to the Arnyr.” In the dark light, Rapidian frowned. “Your uncle had only the best intentions, but he was young in those days. Very young. When Garazor came to the Arnyr, they welcomed him, though cautiously. They did not know his intentions, and so trusted him very little. For years before you or your brother were born, he sought after their trust, slowly building relationships with them. He had a single goal: to bring the Arnyr out of obscurity and into the light. Knowing that their community existed gave him hope that someday the fear of the Shadows could be eradicated from his people. Or, perhaps, he saw the gifts that they possessed and wished to use them to his own advantage. It is impossible to know why he wanted this integration so badly. The Arnyr were skeptical of his intentions at first, but eventually became cautiously optimistic. They began to work with your father toward their common goal. Because I understood the past and the danger the Arnyr might find themselves in, I counseled them away from the action, but ever they invited Garazor and ever he came.”

“What happened?” Rhoden asked, knowing that his father’s plan had never become a reality. “Why did he never take me to meet them?”

Rapidian sighed deeply. “Your father is the reason you were never invited into their fold.”

Rhoden looked sharply at him. “What do you mean?”

“Shortly after you were born, you were very sick, as you might already know,” Rapidian said. “You and your mother were dying. In his grief, your father went to the Arnyr for help. Through his many visits, Garazor had come to know about the Arnyr’s true purpose, and had even seen Falingrast from afar. He knew stories about the Dryr, and their abilities, and though they only possessed a fraction of what they had in the past, he thought that they could help him.

“So, he came and demanded an audience with Solanus. When the Elders refused, he became violent. He hurt many people that night, but more disastrous than that, the trust of the Arnyr was shattered. They saw his demand as a betrayal of everything they had been working towards, that your father had only been using the Arnyr until they came to be of some use to him. I was not with them when this happened—I was away on an important errand. When I returned, it was to find their community in chaos. The doors were closed for many years, and never opened. The watch around the prison increased as it never had before. We kept the Dryr closely under suspicion for many a long year afterwards. For your father had his audience, and made a deal with Solanus, the Shadow King.”

“What was the deal?” Rhoden asked. His heartbeat began slowly to quicken within his chest.

Rapidian shrugged heavily. “I had hoped to someday ask your father that,” he said. “But I can draw assumptions from what I observed. This is what I planned to tell you. Beware, Rhoden. You may not like what it is I have to say.”

Rhoden motioned for him to continue, and Rapidian straightened himself.

“As soon as your father returned from his visit with Solanus, you and your mother were miraculously healed against all hope. It seems your father received what it was he had be wishing for. But it was the other end of the bargain that worried me most. What, I wondered, did Solanus ask for in return? He was ever manipulative and cunning, and I feared for your father, and watched him many a long year.

“Then, your skin began to change, and my worst fears became a reality.”

Rhoden found that he was trembling. “Are—are you saying that I was the other end of the deal?” he asked. Fear and confusion and anger roiled within him. “Why would my father do that? Why would he risk everything to save my life, then promise it away?”

“I don’t think that was his intention,” said Rapidian. “Your father loved you very much, Rhoden. He would not have bargained with your life if he thought he was going to lose it. Either Solanus requested the impossible of your father, or gave your father what he wished without immediately demanding a price. I believe the latter is more likely. It holds with Solanus to be sly and consider every angle of a situation before he could work it to his advantage. And your father proved many things through his actions. He was very protective of you and your mother for the first few years of your life. When your skin began to change, he brought you immediately to the Arnyr, begging for help, but they turned him away. They did not easily forget the harm he had caused, and it did not matter what he offered or how he pleaded.

“No physician in the palace was of any help with your situation, for they could not understand what was happening. Horst told me almost immediately, and as soon as I could, I came to you.”

Rhoden’s eyes were fixed on Rapidian’s face. He did not remember meeting the man before, though he had been very young when his transformation had begun. His memories from that time were muddled like murky water.

Rapidian looked ponderously into the flames, remembering. “It was extraordinary what I found when I came,” he said quietly. “In all the history of the world, this has never happened. The Dryr and Arnyr are a race. They are born into their skin and the birthright it brings them. Never before had I heard of a Shadow being made. For it seemed that is what was happening to you. Every day, more and more of your skin changed, until eventually all of it was deep gray. Your mood was different, as well. You quarreled with your brother and the servants. You threw tantrums. There were some days you would not come out of bed.”

Rhoden watched him, his heard pounding in his chest. He had heard much of this before, but hearing an account of his childhood from a practical stranger was something different. It was more raw, held more weight than it ever had before.

“I tried everything I could think of, used every resource to its utmost end, but I could neither stop the transformation, nor turn back its course. So I spent my time trying to determine what had caused it. In my mind, it was clear that Solanus was behind this, but I could not see how. He has been locked in his prison for nearly two millennia, and the borders are strong. He cannot have left, so I believed that someone on the outside, a rogue Dryr, must have been the cause. Though how Solanus would have contacted this hypothetical person was a mystery. Despite my doubts, I tested every servant, every nurse who worked with you and as I had guessed, it yielded no results. At my recommendation, your father replaced many of the palace staff, but it did nothing to stop your change.

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“The only conclusion I came to in the end is that it was your proximity to the prison that caused the change. You see, Falingrast is very near to the royal palace, practically beneath it. It rests within the mountain outside, the Crown. I tested this theory by having you go to stay with your uncle for several days in his manor. To my amazement, it worked. You became calmer, and more your usual self. So I became more and more convinced that somehow, this was the reason for your change.

“We decided it was for the best that you be removed from the palace. You were very young, and it was not an easy decision to make. Your father fought against it. He did not want you to leave, but in the end we convinced him it was for your own protection. We came up with a believable narrative to feed the lords of the Council—that you were to be sent away for your education—and made a plan to return for short periods every year. And so, you were sent to Tellegar, with your uncle to watch over you. He was there to report any changes—for good or bad—to me. We found your time at the college, though devastating to a young child, did, in fact, help you. But I think, over time, the true reason you were sent away became horribly misunderstood and misconstrued.”

Rapidian sighed and sat back. “Well, there you have it,” he said. “These are the answers you have been looking for, I believe. I am sorry, Rhoden. It is not a pleasant truth.”

Rhoden watched the fire and did his best to sort through the emotions running within him like wild stallions. Anger, that this had ever happened to him at all. Amazement, for knowing the truth at last. Grief at the loss of his father and the sacrifices he made on Rhoden’s behalf. He remembered his father’s words, spoken some time before the wedding: I’ve failed you. Sending you to Tellegar has only isolated you beyond what I ever intended. I’d like for us to start over, if such a thing is possible.

Rhoden unstuck his throat and fought back tears. “He—he asked me to forgive him,” he said hoarsely, and once again he was kneeling on the floor of the Citadel, holding his father’s hand as he spoke his last words. “I thought it was because he regretted banishing me. I hated him for that. I thought he was embarrassed of me, or that he feared me. But—it wasn’t a banishment after all, was it?” He put his head in his hands and whispered, “I was a blind fool.”

Rapidian leaned forward, and his face behind his spectacles was soft and kind in the firelight. “Your father loved you more than anything in the world,” he said. “You, and your brother. He was not a perfect man, but he did what he could to show his love for you. I am sure that letting you go was one of his biggest regrets. But, under the circumstances, it could not have been helped.”

Rhoden dug the heels of his hands into his eyes, trying to rub away the exhaustion and grief he felt. He saw his father so differently, now. To know that Garazor loved him, in his own way, was difficult to imagine, even taking into account the discussion they had had weeks ago. But siting by the fire, hearing Rapidian’s account, Rhoden knew it was true. It made his sorrow sink even deeper into his soul. He had never had the chance to know his father that way. And he never would, in this life.

“I am sorry, Rhoden,” said Rapidian after a long while. “I know these are hard truths to bear, and I know you are exhausted. But there is one last thing we must discuss.”

Rhoden raised his head, spots flashing before his eyes. With a great effort, he took a deep breath and repressed his grief. Later. He could mourn later. He nodded to Rapidian.

“I thought long and hard about this,” the man said. “I cannot leave you without knowing that you are protected. You are likely to spend the rest of your life here in the palace, Rhoden. If, indeed, being so near Falingrast caused your transformation, it is possible that same influence still exists. The longer you remain in the palace, the more you may feel a connection to the Dryr within the prison. And I would like to avoid that, if at all possible. That is why I will give this to you.”

Once again, he reached down to the bag at his feet and withdrew something from it. Rhoden blinked with tired eyes. It was a crystal, about the size of two fists. In the light of the fire, he could see that it glowed with an inner light, ethereal and strange. He looked sharply at Rapidian.

“Yes,” he said. “This is the true Heartstone. The stone given to the Sun King himself.”

Rhoden stared at it. “You said it was hidden away,” he said.

“It has been,” said Rapidian, contemplating the stone. “The High Master of the Brethren has kept the Heartstone safe for countless generations. It is his decision what to do with it.” He extended his hands. “I have decided to give it to you.”

Rhoden reached out and accepted the Heartstone, holding it in both hands. The light was soft and warm. He felt instantly as though he were submerged in a warm bath, relaxed and content. He sighed, and a layer of sorrow was wiped away.

“I’ve done what I can for you,” Rapidian said, watching Rhoden closely. “Giving you the Heartstone is the last defense, and the strongest. It does not hold the same amount of power it once did, but it will protect you.”

Rhoden turned the stone in his hands. To his surprise, he found a large crack on the bottom, running the entire length of the stone and was the width of his forefinger.

“A scar from the battle with Solanus,” said Rapidian. “He tried to use the Heartstone for his own purpose, and the Heartstone perceived his evil intentions. It broke, to prevent him from using that power. It is what aided the Sun King in creating Falingrast. There is only a very little left, and it dwindles ever. While the vessel is broken, it can never hold what it once did.” He looked at the stone with a sadness that Rhoden did not quite understand, like that of losing a dear friend. Then, he met Rhoden’s eyes and gave a swift smile. “But what remains is enough. Keep it close, and hidden. No one must know you have this in your possession. There still remains a Dryr to be found. And I doubt he has gone very far.”

Rhoden placed the Heartstone gently onto a side table. “You will leave soon, then?” he asked.

“Yes. I go to the Arnyr, to seek their aid. Now that I have said what I must to you, and given you the Heartstone, perhaps I will leave directly. There is nothing more urgent than finding this rogue and his Seranach, and bringing them back to Falingrast.”

Rhoden nodded, feeling weariness settle on him like a heavy blanket. Rapidian gave him a kind smile.

“Sleep, Rhoden. You will need it. There will be many obstacles ahead, but I have confidence in you. I will trouble you no longer.”

He made to stand, and an object tumbled from his lap—the false Heartstone. They both looked at the empty crystal on the carpet, and Rhoden wondered how anyone could have mistaken this cheap copy for the original.

“I’ll take this to the Ennist priests,” Rhoden said, stooping to pick it up. “At the very least, they will no longer search for it.”

Rapidian smiled. “I think that is very wise,” he said. “Goodbye, Rhoden. And good luck. I will return as soon as I am able.”

Then, with a bow, he excused himself, opening the door as easily as though the hinges had been newly oiled. Rhoden stood in the room, staring at the Heartstone and its copy. There were so many thoughts in his head, he hardly knew what to think. But his body was heavy with postponed sleep. He gathered both crystals together, once again relishing in the warmth of the true Heartstone, and hid them beneath his bed under the loose floorboard where he had hidden his old clothing.

When he climbed into bed, he fell immediately into darkness, and slept without dreaming.