Uncle Geralt traced the outline of the dark veins on Daana’s wrist with his index finger. He stopped when he reached the edge of her tattered sleeve, tapping his fingertip against the underside of her arm as his eyes narrowed in concentrated thought. She searched his expression for clues, but found none. The skin on her face was suddenly unbearably hot. Sweat dripped down her forehead as her heartbeat rapidly drummed out the sound of her own racing thoughts.
How was she supposed to explain the markings on her arm? ‘Oh, you know how it is with evil, dark entities, Uncle. One moment you’re trapping it within a powerstone and, in the next, you’re accidently absorbing some of its power. Also, I may have infected two other people while doing so. Whoopsie!’
“Daana?”
Uncle’s voice startled her from an inward spiral. Her teeth sank into her bottom lip as she stared back at him, refusing to say anymore. It was another trick she’d learned from Uncle Geralt’s nemesis. Oralia often insisted that silence could be more powerful than words. Keeping silent, however, had never been Daana’s strong suit.
“Daana?” he repeated.
Hold the silence, Daana. You can do it.
“Child, you haven’t blinked in ages.”
Hold it. Hold it. Hold it!
Uncle Geralt’s gaze lifted from her arm to her face, bearing down on her with the full weight of his attention. Something about his expression changed. Daana didn’t know how exactly, only that it was suddenly taking every ounce of her nerve not to squirm out from under his scrutinizing stare.
Finally, having reached some unspoken conclusion, he imparted his thoughts with slow, methodical care. “This is not like any sort of infliction I have ever seen before. By its appearance, I would hazard that it was not exacted on you by a mortal either.”
Daana’s brow furrowed. Of course the first thing out of his mouth was about the damn magic! Not ‘Daana, my dear, I was so worried. I missed you terribly. Your absence made me realize all the ways in which I mistreated you, and I would like the chance to do better’.
With her stream of consciousness running rampant through her thoughts, Uncle Geralt’s next question caught her by surprise. “Is it causing you harm?”
For the briefest of moments, something flickered in her chest. Was it possible? Did he actually care? She had spent the past few months so utterly furious at him that she hadn’t considered the possibility that uncle might have actually been worried. “I don’t know.” Her voice was suddenly small. “I was hoping to find that out myself.”
“I’ve heard mixed reports detailing the battle on Mount Hook. Without any eye witnesses on our end, it has been difficult separating fact from fiction.” This time, when his somber gaze lifted, it remained fixed on her, watching her reaction for tells. “Was this the ghost’s doing?”
And just like that, the flicker of hope was snuffed out. Daana jerked her arm free of his grasp, working her loose sleeve back over the markings. “The ghost, really? That’s what you think to ask me? Not, Daana, how are you? Are you alright? Can I get anything for you? For fuck’s sake, next you’ll be asking me if I captured the damn thing.”
His dark eyebrows rose as if to say ‘did you?’
“It still counts if you say it with your face!”
Uncle Geralt picked his words carefully. “I am getting the sense that you are upset with me. If it is about the ransom, please know that I have been attempting to negotiate your release for months now. Regretfully, communications from your captors have been unreliable at best.”
She couldn’t think of an adequate reply that didn’t rely heavily on the use of profane language. Thus, Daana opted for an unimpressed, “Mhm.”
His gaze swept to the nearest lounge and looked to be debating whether he wanted to put a towel down before inviting her to sit. Fortunately, he had the sense not to do so. “Let us sit and discuss this civilly. As you can imagine, I have so many questions.”
“Yeah, I don’t think so. You don’t get answers. Not before I get some first.” She folded her arms over her chest and broadened her defiant stance. “I learned some very interesting rumors during my time away. You’re not getting another word out of me about the Palace Ghost, or Oralia, or the rebellion, until you give me the truth.”
“Oralia?” Uncle Geralt looked as though he had bitten into an exceptionally sour lemon. “Oralia Dawnsight? Traitor to the realm, responsible for sparking widespread civil disobedience, and turning at least two out of the outer territories into all out rebellion against the current governing body–that Oralia? For the gods’ sakes, child, she held you prisoner against your will! You, above all else, should know better than to believe a single word out of that traitor’s mouth.”
“Actually, it was Ellisar that told me.” Daana tapped her foot, watching his reaction as carefully as he had watched hers. “I wonder if she’s returned to calling herself Captain Pride by now. That’s a name you should recognize, isn’t it dear uncle? She’s not a chatty one, but she had an awful lot to say about you.”
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He stared at her like a predator determining whether to meet the opposition’s challenge or turn tail and run.
“No? Well what about Larkspur Denari? Is there anything you’d like to tell me about her?”
Uncle Geralt maintained his silence, allowing the quiet to grow hostile as his unnerving stare never lifted from her.
“Uncle, uncle, uncle,” Daana tsked at his efforts. She stepped closer, pushing her face closer to his in hopes that doing so would cause his fixed expression to crack. His nostrils twitched at the smell, but to his credit, his resolve remained otherwise undeterred. “The threatening silence, really? You know Oralia practically invented that, right? Frankly, she’s a lot better at it, too. Let’s leave the hostility to the experts, shall we?”
His voice was low, spoken through clenched teeth. “What do you want from me?”
“The truth.”
“The truth? The truth is Larkspur Denari was a magical extremist. She didn’t care about freeing her fellow witches anymore than she cared about you, Daana.”
“So it’s true then? She was my mother?” She didn’t wait for his answer. Fighting the sudden onslaught of angry tears, Daana threw her arms out from her sides. “Don’t you think that’s something you should have told me? I deserved to know!”
“It did not matter.”
“Of course it mattered!” Why had she let herself be talked into this again? She had known he wouldn’t break. Even now, after being confronted with the truth, uncle still wasn’t being forthright. For years, he’d used her. And when she didn’t demonstrate any of the natural talent of her mother, he shaped her into a pawn instead. She’d been arranged over his chess board her entire life, completely unaware or unwilling to see it. But she wasn’t blind to it, not anymore. And she’d be damned if she let the old snake think his tactics still worked on her.
Uncle Geralt’s downturned mouth doubled its efforts. “She didn’t want you, Daana. What good would it have done to grow up knowing that? Forgive me for trying to spare you this pain. I thought it was better to keep you in the dark than to know your mother abandoned you.”
“Putting me on a boat does not count as abandoning me,” Daana replied stiffly. She met his frown with a raise of her eyebrow. “Yes, that’s right. I know about that part too. And how you paid off the goblin that found me so you could claim me as your own.”
“What was I supposed to do? You arrived at the palace doorstep as an orphan. No charity would have taken you in, not with your familial history. I forged the papers and your background, yes. But what of it? Did I not give you everything your actual mother couldn’t? A roof over your head, the finest schooling, and the greatest asset of all, a purpose. And now, after everything I have done for you, you’re willing to throw it all away on the word of a deranged criminal claiming to be some long dead revolutionist?”
Daana’s scowl must have been one for the record books because it caused uncle to falter. Finally, after an uncomfortable silence settled between them, he drew himself to his full height and allowed the weight of his words to settle. “What is your end goal here, Daana? Was it enough to hear me admit my deceptions out loud? I would like to think our relationship can recover from this, but that would require compromise on both our ends.”
“I already told you what I want! Stop trying to rearrange me on your stupid chess board and tell me about Larkspur Denari.”
“The answers you seek will not fulfill you.”
Daana gritted her teeth together. “Tell me about my mother.”
“As you wish.” He stepped around her, hailing to someone lingering on the other side of the ajar door. “Guards, secure her.”
On his command, a trio of hired muscle stormed into the stateroom. They were dressed in plainclothes and didn’t appear to wear any sort of emblem or insignia to identify their employer. Meaning of course that they worked for her uncle exclusively. The only similarity shared between the three goons stalking swiftly towards her was the abundance of weapons hanging from their belts. Each one openly carried a short sword and a dagger.
As her own knife had been stripped by the palace guard who intercepted her on the front steps, Daana had no realistic means of defense. She may have learned how to throw a decent right hook and kick below the belt during her time spent away, but she was still no match for three professionals. Two of the unmarked guardsmen took up positions on either side of her as the third secured her hands behind her back with a set of heavy iron manacles.
Daana winced as the metal snapped over her wrists with a heavy clink! “You’re putting me under arrest? Really?”
“I’m afraid my hand has been forced.”
“Is that just how lowly you think of me, uncle? In case you have forgotten, I grew up in this palace. I watched you play this game with the common folk.” Daana did her best to look unbothered by the fact that the manacles were entirely too tight. “You place me in chains, have your guards haul me out the door, just as I’m being dragged away, I have a sudden change of heart and agree to tell you everything I know in exchange for my freedom. Am I remembering that correctly?”
“You are,” Uncle Geralt said. “Unfortunately, such information will only serve to make this next step awkward between us.”
Daana gazed around the room, avoiding direct eye contact lest he see the fear hidden behind her mask of indifference. Amidst the various replies rampaging behind her eyes, she chose the one that would be sure to antagonize him the most. “To be honest I’m not even convinced you even have a dungeon at this point.”
“Several, actually.” He started towards the double doors, with his hands clasped behind his back as his long robe swayed behind him. “Escort her to the carriage, gentleman.”
She dug her heels into the plush carpet as the guards on either side shepherded her towards the double doorway. Uncle Geralt stood waiting patiently out in the hallway, watching with an expression of callous indifference. No, it was worse than that. The fucker looked bored! Ugh, she couldn’t wait to wipe that stupid look from his face the moment she got her hands free.
Considering that wasn’t a possibility at the moment, she had to settle for glaring daggers at him instead. She was so overcome with fury, she nearly forgot to say her line. “This isn’t funny! Tell your men to unhand me this instant!”
He strode casually alongside as the guards whisked her out of the stateroom and down a separate hallway. The corridor was dark and narrow, leading towards the servant’s entrance. “You asked to learn about your mother, Daana. I am merely sending you to the one person who knew her well. You should be thanking me, honestly.”