Copper Veins(22)

“Micah.” I took his hands and pulled him against me. “It’s not like that.”

“Oh?” He resisted, stepping back and crossing his arms over his chest. “Tell me what it is like.”

“This isn’t about Jerome. I couldn’t care less about him,” I insisted. Micah cocked a silver eyebrow, and I pushed on. “It’s about my dad. He cares about me and about the Mundane realm. He’s not making me do this. I want to. I trust him, and that’s that.”

“Why?” Micah thundered. “How do you know he isn’t lying? About this other man, about why he returned to you now and not before, about everything?”

My mouth fell open—I had to clench my hands into fists to keep them from trembling. I knew Micah had little faith in my father’s plans, but to accuse him of lying to his own family? The family that spent sixteen years searching for any trace of him? No. I couldn’t take any more, at least not right then.

“Leave,” I demanded. “If that’s how little you think of my dad, and of me, then leave me alone. Now.”

Micah’s eyes widened, his body frozen, shocked. “Sara,” he managed, “we shouldn’t—”

“Leave me alone!”

He turned to go, but stopped in the doorway and spoke without looking at me. “Sara, we need to talk about this. Not argue, talk. I need to tell the Silverkin of Sadie’s decision so we can properly prepare for whatever Oriana may send our way, but we cannot ignore this. We will talk later.”

I said nothing, and after a moment of waiting, he left to tell the servants we were harboring a traitor.

Speaking of traitors, I came across my dear sister in the main parlor, huddled on the couch under a blanket. “Where’s Micah?” she demanded before I could ask why she was hiding out in her own private blanket fort.

I sighed. It was better if she didn’t know we’d fought. “He went to tell the silverkin all about your lack of pledging,” I replied. “Keeping the little guys in the loop and all.”

“Why do they need to know?” Sadie asked.

“In case any more gold warriors come by, I guess.” I hadn’t thought about it at the time, but Micah was probably setting guards at key points around the Whispering Dell. From the look of terror on Sadie’s face, I gathered she, too, was thinking about what Micah was guarding us against.

“Sara, I was stupid,” she whispered. “I was mad, and she’s such a basket case and all that blood is so gross, but I should have sucked it up and pledged.”

“It’s fine,” I said, trying to soothe her. “Let Micah handle it. He knows about these things.”

“What if she attacks? What if Micah—or you, or Dad, or Mom, or Max—is arrested because of me?” Her head drooped forward. “Some Inheritor.”

I reached over, and patted her shoulder. “At least you stood up to her. Someone needed to.” Really, it amazed me that no one else in the Otherworld had any issues with that lunatic running things. If Oriana got much crazier, she would qualify as a Mundane politician.

“I don’t think you’re supposed to stand up to royalty,” Sadie pointed out.

“Don’t worry—Micah knows what he’s doing.” At least when it comes to this. I patted Sadie’s hand and asked a silverkin to bring her some cocoa. “Cocoa makes everything better, you know,” I said when Sadie grumbled that I was treating her like a baby. I decided not to mention she was acting like one.

Once Sadie was sipping her cocoa, I sneaked out to the orchards, careful to avoid Mom’s picnic in progress. I loved having all the fresh fruit I could eat just a few feet away, especially after years of enduring the Peacekeepers’ tasteless nutritional regimens. While I was selecting a few plums, I heard a string of curses fit to make a sailor blush. The source of the cursing turned out to be my mother, stalking toward the manor.

“Aren’t you supposed to be on a date?” I asked. She halted and treated me to one of the most violent glares I’d ever experienced. After almost a full minute of this, I added, “Are you going to talk or just try to kill me with your eyes?”

At that, Mom visibly deflated, her fury transforming into something closer to heartbreak. “Too bad I’m the only one who thought it was a date.” She sank to the ground, holding her head in her hands.

“What happened?” I asked, crouching down beside her.

“Your father had a sandwich, then he went for a walk,” she replied.

“There had to be more than that,” I said.

“There was not. I even pointed out that I’d recreated the brugh. He looked at me like I was a fool to do such a thing.” Mom raised her head, now staring at the sky. “I suppose I am. All these years, I waited for my Beau to return. But he wasn’t waiting for me.”