Aren laughed bitterly.
“You don’t believe that.”
“No.”
“Who killed him?”
“I cannot prove it.”
“Who?”
Oren looked away.
“Aldric.”
The wagon wheels rattled.
Aren felt cold despite the warm night.
“And my mother?”
“She was pregnant.”
“With me.”
“Yes.”
“Did Aldric know?”
“Eventually.”
Oren closed his eyes.
“Elara discovered the Kingmaker Sword was not ceremonial.”
Aren remembered the blade turning.
“What is it?”
“A key.”
“To the giants?”
“Partly.”
“To what else?”
The old man stared toward the distant palace lights.
“The throne beneath the throne.”
Aren hated riddles.
“What does that mean?”
Oren explained.
The current palace had been built over the ruins of Eldoria’s first citadel.
Deep beneath it lay an ancient chamber called the Heart Vault.
At its center stood the Stone Throne.
Not a seat for humans.
A control seal.
When the first royal bloodline vanished, the Stone Giants went dormant and the throne sealed itself.
The Kingmaker Sword remained above as a lock.
Only someone of the old bloodline could turn it.
“You did.”
Aren looked at his glowing palm.
“Then why is Aldric King?”
“Because everyone who could challenge his line disappeared.”
Including Elara.
Aren whispered, “What happened to her?”
Oren’s voice softened.
“She gave birth in secret.”
“To me.”
“Yes.”
“She died?”
“Not that night.”
Hope rose.
Tiny.
Dangerous.
Aren saw it reflected in Oren’s face.
Then the old man destroyed it.
“She was captured three days later.”
Aren looked down.
“By Aldric?”
“Yes.”
“Did he kill her?”
Oren swallowed.
“I never learned.”
That was worse in some ways.
Uncertainty left doors open for grief to wander through.
“And me?”
“I carried you out.”
Oren looked at him.
“You were wrapped in a blue blanket embroidered with the old royal mark.”
Aren stared at his palm.
“I gave you to a baker and his wife near the eastern wall.”
His breathing stopped.
“The abandoned shop.”
“Yes.”
“What happened to them?”
“Fever.”
“I remember a woman.”
“Her name was Mara.”
Aren had almost forgotten.
A soft hand.
A song.
Not his mother.
But perhaps the closest thing he had ever had.
“Why didn’t you come back?”
Oren’s face crumpled.
“I did.”
“When?”
“Two years later.”
“Two years?”