Chapter 12
"Where do you think she is?" Gavril was dangerously angry as he paced inside his father's study. Gavin watched his son fret, a hooded expression in his eyes. Gavril had asked to see the letter Wylend sent to Reah, and then almost went crazy. "She thinks I told him, when Erland says that Wylend used an eavesdropping spell to listen to a private conversation. I don't know about you, Dad, but I consider that an invasion of privacy. Anybody else would have kept the information to themselves. Reah won't answer my mindspeech. She thinks I betrayed her. And I can't go to Wylend and have it out with him—the Campiaan Alliance needs his membership. If he's become this petty, he'll pull out at the blink of an eye."
"Son, Erland thinks he'll settle down in a few days and think this through rationally. You just need to wait it out for a while. My concern is for Reah, now—she was weak and still in need of care. Most likely, she's alone somewhere and not getting anything. I wish she'd purge this habit of running away every time someone hurts her."
"Dad, she couldn't before. First, Edan threatened her if she ran away, then the ASD did the same thing, threatening treason if she deserted. Now, Wylend has accused and convicted her of that crime. What would you do, Dad?"
"I don't have a ready answer. This involves your mate and your great-grandfather. I'm inclined to agree with Erland on this and wait a few days. See if Wylend comes to his senses. This is foolishness."
"I could have told you that much." Gavril folded away.
"Little one."
"Honey Blue." I stared up at Nefrigar—he'd shown up on day six of my self-imposed exile. On the second day, I'd been forced to go searching for food—I'd depleted the entire pantry on Beliphar. Now I was ready to skip to Tulgalan—I'd promised Farla and Fes that I'd come to cook the recipes I'd given them. I was hoping that more treachery wasn't coming as a result. I was also hoping that Nefrigar didn't have another planet to save or a different objective—my day was planned out already. I still didn't feel completely healthy, either.
"I came to help," Nefrigar settled me on a barstool and placed his hands on my head first, then slowly made his way down the rest of my body. Larentii power was shoring up my fragile health—I felt better when he finished.
"Thank you," I sighed.
"Little one, perhaps it is not wise to be alone at this time."
"Really? What do you suggest? Should I call the one who convicted me of treason, or the one who tattled secrets that led to my conviction? The whole thing is ludicrous."
"Not all may be as it seems," he said cryptically.
"You're a Larentii, so you know everything. I'm just a stupid, gullible High Demon who doesn't have anything near your resources."
"Little one, your emotions are unstable," Nefrigar rubbed my back with large, blue fingers.
"What can you expect? I lost two mates in one day." I tossed up a hand and slid off the stool, walked toward the large kitchen window and stared through it at the unkempt grounds. Once they'd been beautiful, until Beliphar had destroyed itself with greed and neglect. "Tory only shows up when it's convenient for him, Aurelius works constantly, poor Radolf is caught up in this whole mess with Karathia and Lendill has enough to worry about."
"Yet you are one of Lendill's worries," Nefrigar suggested gently. "And the shapeshifters are frightened for you. You were weak and not ready to be on your own when you left them behind."
"Yeah, I know that too. But they belong to Teeg. I don't care how often he says they can do what they want, they're still under his thumb. In the meantime, I've been keeping up with that mess on Boodreatis through comp-vid." I held up the comp-vid in question—I'd seen interview after interview with devastated parents. They'd only been shown the initial attack on the college by five huge monsters and one child, who'd held incredible power. Neither the Ra'Ak nor the warlock had bothered to block the camera images—it was as if they wanted to throw the Alliances into mass hysteria.
The families of the dead weren't told and might never realize that the powerful child in the vids had once been an adult. The Ra'Ak that the warlock worked with were not only insane, they were sick. I'd enlarged images—it looked as if the Ra'Ak were molting, with scales and skin peeling and flaking away. Since I wasn't well-versed on Ra'Ak physiology, I didn't know what that really meant.
"Do you know what this means?" I pulled up the isolated images I'd saved in a separate file I was keeping. I showed Nefrigar the images.
"They appear to be ill—I've never known Ra'Ak to molt—their power keeps their scales and such alive and growing with their bodies."
"If they're ill, why are they ill? What's causing this?"
"Perhaps you should have a meeting with Lissa; I believe she holds this information."
"Really?" I asked, before my face fell. She was mated to Erland, and mother to Rylend. Both held Karathian citizenship. How could I walk onto Le-Ath Veronis? I was probably banned from there, too.
"Little one, things are not so bad as you think."
"How bad are they?" I asked. I was doing my best not to cry.
"Reah, they are not as bad as you think. Go to your family, and then consider meeting with Lissa. She will have good information to pass along."
I rubbed my forehead at his words—a headache was forming. Nefrigar placed two fingers against my forehead, relieving the pressure. "Thank you," I said, and skipped to Tulgalan.
Nefrigar stared at the spot previously occupied by Reah. He would have to tell her soon, he decided, and folded away.
"I'm feeling well," I lied to Farla as she led me into the kitchen of Desh's number one. I hadn't been inside it since I was eight. Many things had changed since then.
"We only opened up again three days ago," Farla informed me as I followed her past prep tables and employees busily preparing the evening menu. The restaurant would open in four clicks. Enough time—barely—to prepare the sliced beef in bittersweet sauce.
"We have the ingredients laid out, we just want to watch," Farla was smiling—the most I'd ever seen her smile during the eight years I'd spent in Targis, believing I was Addah's daughter.
Fes, too, smiled at me as I went over what had been laid out next to the stove and ovens. The two kinds of fruit had been peeled and seeded and the brown sugars were there, as were the tomato puree and spices. The beef was partially cooked as the recipe indicated. Now, we would slice it, simmer the sauce a bit to blend the flavors and then spoon it over the beef slices, allowing it to cook for a while until it was so tender and flavorful it melted in the mouth. It was Addah's specialty, and people flocked in on the nights he prepared it. I was now preparing it in his place. We would see how it all turned out.