Dad stared at Micah for a few heartbeats, though for the life of me I couldn’t figure out why he wasn’t leaping to accept the offer. Wouldn’t getting the memories of your wife and children back be a good thing? Eventually, Dad said, “Concealment spells, mostly.”
Micah’s brows lowered as he sipped the tea a silverkin had so thoughtfully placed in front of him. I sat across from him, and an identical cup appeared before me. “In my experience, concealment spells merely obscure the caster. Only the darker magics require a sacrifice.”
“It was war,” Dad ground out.
“No one is judging you, Baudoin,” Micah said, though I wasn’t so sure he included himself in that statement. “I only wish to help you. I know that I would hate to lose a single memory of my Sara.” Micah reached across the table to grasp my hand, but I pulled it away. He acted as if he hadn’t noticed the slight. “Please, Baudoin, tell us how you actually lost your memories.”
My father, while not a screamer like Mom, was not the sort of man you challenged. Even when he was mad enough to spit, Dad still wasn’t the sort to fly off the handle. Oh, he would look you square in the eye until you really thought he was going to rain down fire and brimstone. But never did he raise his hand, and never did he raise his voice.
Of course, that was before Micah insinuated that he was lying.
Dad’s face turned red, his mouth opening and closing as if he couldn’t get the words out. I clenched my hand into a fist so tightly I worried I’d break my fingers. Not this again. My dad clearly in pain, Micah not taking him seriously—I was about to reprimand him, but someone else got to it first.
“What is your problem?” Max growled. “Who do you think you are, talking to my father that way?”
“I am the one who owns this house,” Micah replied. “I feed you, shelter you, and occasionally come close to my own mortality as a result of the varied ill-advised decisions you and your relations make.” Micah’s gaze moved from Dad to Max and back again. “While you are both certainly welcome in my and my wife’s home, I will not abide anything less than complete honesty.”
Max stood, his hands balled into fists.
“Hey. Hey!” I rose, slamming my palms on the table as I glared between Max and Micah. “No one’s doing anything with fists. Got it?” Max nodded, then unclenched his hands and sank back into his chair. I turned to Micah. “I’m not going to let you bully my father,” I said firmly. “If you can help him, then help him, but don’t treat him like he’s an enemy.” I expected him to retaliate or defend himself, but Micah only nodded curtly, the expression on his face apologetic. His understanding made my heart swell—he was trying. Good.
I turned to my father. “Dad, maybe you and Micah should talk about these spells. Alone.”
Dad nodded, but Micah barely acknowledged his agreement. “We shall. However, first I must tell you all of my evening spent in the Golden Court.”
Micah sipped his tea, seemingly content to make us suffer, before he continued. “Firstly, Oriana has at last confirmed what we have long suspected—those of copper were forbidden from speaking with anyone named Corbeau, but especially from speaking with the Inheritor. Forbidden by the queen herself.”
“I knew it!” I blurted out. “But why?”
“Well, there is the matter of the missing scroll,” Micah replied.
“What missing scroll?” Sadie asked.
“A scroll that details the lineage of the royal family that existed before Elementals. However, that is not why those of copper were forbidden from interacting with the Corbeaus.” Micah set down his teacup and fixed Dad in his gaze. “It would seem that when you, Baudoin, were gathering support for your war all those years ago, you were seen as a strong leader.”
“Yeah? And?” Max demanded. Micah’s eyes flicked toward Max, but he otherwise ignored my brother’s rudeness.
“Apparently, you reinforced your position as a leader by strongly suggesting that one of your children was the Inheritor of Metal, and that this child would lead in the Otherworld while you led in the Mundane realm,” Micah said.
He let the words hang in the air while Sadie looked horrified, Max grinned, and Dad seemed as confused as ever. It all made sense now—Oriana, who had already been deposed once, was terrified that Sadie had come to the Otherworld to take over. Sadie, copper girl and the Inheritor of Metal, who also had outright refused the blood pledge to the queen not once, but twice.
Oy.
“Why did you do that?”
We turned toward the whispered voice—Sadie, the girl in question, had risen to her feet and was staring at Dad, her face bloodless. “I was just a baby. How could you?”