Wrath of the Storm (Mark of the Thief 3) - Page 3

I didn't recognize the voice. Not at first, but with some effort, I opened my eyes. "Mother?"

Silence followed my question, but then the dim light of an oil lamp was lifted higher, illuminating my mother's face.

She was as beautiful as the goddesses themselves. Long golden curls framed her face. Her cheeks were naturally rosy, and her eyes were warm, like Livia's. She had seen much sadness in her life, yet her face betrayed none of that, at least not at the moment.

When I was younger, my mother used to say I looked more like my father, with his dark hair and brown eyes. I wondered if that was still true and whether there were other ways in which I was like him. More particularly, I wondered if my mother wanted me to be like my father, and his father before him.

The Malice was in my right hand, and I kept hold of it as I sat up on one elbow to see her better. Tears filled my eyes. No cage bars separated us, or chains, or slave masters. It was just us, as it used to be years ago. I wanted to say something; I just wasn't sure what.

"You had us worried," Mother finally said.

"Us?" It sounded like I was speaking with a mouthful of sand, and maybe I was. I needed more water.

She cocked her head toward the door. "Livia and your friends Aurelia and Crispus."

"They're here? They're safe?"

My mother's smile had always been comforting. "Of course. And breathing much easier now that you're back."

"How long --" I hardly dared to ask. "How long was I gone?"

Her smile faded, obviously concerned that I did not already know the answer. "Ten days. We had almost given up on you surviving. How did you?"

Bigger questions were on my mind. "What about Radulf? Is he here too?"

I knew he wasn't. I still heard his screams inside my head, his desperate question that had pushed through my unconscious mind: "Nicolas Calva, where are you?"

Mother shook her head. "The dragon carried him away. We don't know where he is, but he's sure

ly dead by now."

"No, he's not." I sat up and began searching through the dark room for my sandals.

"Get back in bed; you're still weak." Her tone scolded me, which wasn't fair. I'd been on my own far too long for that.

I reached for the first sandal and began lacing it. "I've got to find Radulf. I've got to get him back."

"Nic?" The door to my room opened, and Livia poked her head through it. Light streamed in from the outer rooms. I vaguely wondered what time it was.

When she saw I was awake, Livia came all the way in. I squinted from the light, but as my eyes adjusted, it was good to see my sister. Livia was a smaller replica of our mother, though I was sure she had grown even taller since I had last seen her. Her gentle nature came through with every movement she made, and when she smiled, her entire face seemed to glow.

However, Livia wasn't smiling now. She nodded toward the sandal on my foot. "Where are you going?"

"You must know," I muttered.

Livia knelt beside me. "Pater is gone," she said, using the more familiar term for our grandfather. "And you're in no condition to search for him anyway."

Suddenly, I was ravenously hungry. The curse that had preserved my life in the rubble of the temple was fading, leaving me with the reality of not having eaten for ten days. "Get me some food, Livia, please. Anything we have. I'll eat my sandals if you don't hurry."

With a glance at our mother, Livia stood and rushed from the room while I reached for the other sandal. Mother probably wanted me to eat them so I couldn't leave.

"He is not a good man," she said. "I'm sorry to say this about your own grandfather, but the things he has done are terrible. Even if he were still alive, he is not worth saving."

"He's changed," I said. "He traded his life for mine with the Mistress -- don't I owe him something in return?"

"We wouldn't be in this situation if not for him!" she said. "No, Nic, he is not worth any further risk to us."

I didn't want to fight with my mother, not ever, but especially not so soon after having her back in my life again. I wanted to know her as I used to, from a place of innocence and pure trust. I wanted her to know me as I used to be too. But none of that was possible. I hated that every word I spoke to her now seemed to fill her heart with sadness. But regardless of what she thought of Radulf, I had to go after him.

Tags: Jennifer A. Nielsen Mark of the Thief Fantasy
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