Page 80 of Fate Unchained
Finn nudged him with his shoulder. “If we’re going to attack Morana, we need Hans.”
Hazel nodded. “Wherever Morana is holed up, she’ll have protection. A lot of it. And they have a leshak.”
It was hard for him to concentrate. Every second without Lilah at his side felt like a year. His claws dug into his palms, warm blood welling over his fingers. “Hans is the only one who knows how to kill a leshak. Can you create a portal and get him?” He glanced at Zann, who still lay motionless on the couch. “And Briony. She can heal Zann.”
“I don’t have unlimited power. I can get Hans and Briony, but I won’t have much left to keep scrying for Boris, and with night coming, I’ll be finished until dawn.” For the first time, he noticed the spellcaster was paler than normal, and she had dark shadows under her eyes.
Hazel’s gaze met his. “You need to decide what you want me to do.”
31
The first thing that hit Lilah was the odd smell. It was like she’d landed in a museum with a hint of dust and the stale, mineral smell of old paintings. She and the brownie from the tea shop stood in a dark paneled room lined with busts of male heads, their creepy vacant eyes staring ahead. Massive paintings of more men dominated the walls, the paint slightly cracked and dulled with age. Lilah scanned the room. Tall, thin windows stretched toward the ceiling, letting in slivers of murky light. The windows weren’t wide enough to wedge herself through to escape.
At the end of the room was a large tapestry, and even from this far away, she could tell it was a genealogy tree and read the large words sewn at the top. Herskala Family.
This must be Herskala Hall.
Herskala Hall was a massive estate near the academy, and many internal wars had been waged over the years by the deans of the school wanting to live in it. But if there was one thing the kings of Coromesto had always kept an iron fist around, it was real estate. When Herskala died without an heir, his property was forfeit, and the king took it over.
It was preserved and maintained through the years, but the king never resided there himself. Rumor had it that he dallied with mistresses there on occasion, and if true, Morana was being invited into what was really her rightful home.
It resembled Lilah’s aunt’s house in many ways. Old dark wood. Thick and heavy furniture that was no longer in fashion.
“Welcome.” The voice echoed across the room. A woman in an elaborate green dress with gold embroidery stood from a leather chair. She’d blended in so well with the opulent setting Lilah hadn’t noticed her. The woman appeared to be around forty, with her hair perfectly swept back from her face in an elaborate twist. Morana.
Lilah’s heart pounded, but she raised her chin. “I refused your invitation.”
Morana sauntered toward her and waved one of her hands. “I apologize, but family does make rather inconvenient demands on us, doesn’t it?” Morana stopped a few steps in front of her. Her dark eyes were intelligent, yet also hard, like stone.
“We are not family.”
Morana gave a small smile. “Come, walk with me through Herskala Hall. I thought you might like to see some of your ancestors.” She clasped her arms behind her back and walked toward the right of the room, where the largest painting hung.
Lilah followed, remaining a few paces away and at her side. “You invited me here to gawp at old portraits?”
Ignoring her, Morana stared up at the portrait of an imposing hawk-nosed man, his blue eyes fierce, his expression grim. He held one hand up, fisted around bluish light as if he’d captured lightning in his palm. In the distant background, the spires of Coromesto spiked into the air. The way the painting was composed, it appeared as if he trod on the city itself. “Arasmus Herskala himself. I didn’t get his blue eyes though.” She turned to Lilah and studied her. “Your eye color is close.” She returned to the painting. “He was so potent, had so much magic, yet he couldn’t succeed in having a child. My mother was known throughout Ulterra as the Heir Maker. Immortals, magicwielders, anyone who couldn’t conceive knew about her potions, and they almost always worked.”
This confirmed what they’d seen in the genealogy book, but Lilah didn’t want Morana to think she cared. She kept her expression slightly bored.
Morana’s voice was like honey dripping through the room. “It was a mark of his desperation that he lowered himself enough to seek help from a peltwalker. He was cold, dismissive, haughty. But what Herskala, for all his power, didn’t know, was that my mother was a powerful enchanter—most likely with the blood of the old shapeshifting sorcerers running through her—and for revenge, she used her enchantments to make him fall in love with her. At some point she must have fallen for him because he got his heir. Me.”
Lilah swallowed hard. “But he didn’t stay with her?”
Sweeping her arm wide, Morana gestured to the rest of the hall. “What do you notice about this lovely representation of the Herskala line?”
Lilah shifted, feeling the dagger along her waist. At least she still had it. And the longer she kept Morana talking, the more time it gave Boris to come to them, so Hazel would know where they all were. “It’s all male.”
Morana smiled and pointed one long finger at her. “Exactly right. So, suffice it to say Herskala didn’t want a daughter, and he especially didn’t want someone with peltwalker blood who wasn’t a sorcerer. He assumed, quite wrongly, he’d have another child, so he left me and my mother.”
Morana turned to the brownie, who trailed a few steps behind them. “Why don’t you get our tea ready?” The brownie raced off, and she gestured toward Lilah. “Since I interrupted your afternoon refreshment, join me for a replacement.”
“Why am I here?”
Morana ignored her and walked a few steps to another portrait. The man resembled Herskala but was thinner, more hawkish, with a mouth made for cruelty. “This is Gregor Herskala, Arasmus’s father. Our joint ancestor. By all accounts, his marriage with Herskala’s mother was one of the nice tidy affairs these magicwielder so love.” Her voice dripped with sarcasm. “Create a powerful heir. Cultivate power through blood.” She raised her brows at Lilah. “You live here. You see it.”
Lilah nodded.
“But he loved another woman. Serena Nihova. And they had a son together. Since she was a human, no one much cared about his odd little dalliance, assuming their child had no magic.”