Sephryn placed the book down next to the sickly green plant on the little table between them, stood, and then walked to the hearth where the fire was dwindling. “I was like you when I was younger. Only believed in what I saw. You have to understand that I grew up with all these stories.” This time she waved a hand at the weapons above the mantel. “My mother and aunts, they told me such crazy things. Demons, dragons, magic, . . .” She glanced once more at Kile. “Gods. I never knew what was real and what was invented to entertain a child. It frustrated me that even after I had grown up my mother insisted all of it was true. Along with her bitterness toward my father and her drinking, it became a wedge between us. My father had no problem with any of it, something I never understood until . . .”

“Until?”

“Until the day the emperor was murdered. That’s when I discovered all sorts of truths—most of them unpleasant, the worst being that demons from the past still walked among the living. By then, it was too late. You see, the moment I realized I had never been lied to, I understood why my mother was the way she was. My father always told me to overlook mom’s outbursts. He said, “Everyone’s awful when they’re sick.” I insisted she wasn’t sick, but he corrected me, saying that aging was a disease. And he was right. Eventually, long after she was gone, I saw what my father had—how my mother had been suffering, lashing out in pain. He knew he would see her again, and that she would be whole once more, as if she’d only suffered a momentary fever. My father would be able to hug her, and the two exchange apologies for all the weak moments of their lives. He would be able to do that.” She made a sad smile. “By now, I suppose, he already has . . . but I . . . I . . .” Sephryn wiped her eyes. Still before the hearth, she grabbed up the poker and stirred the coals. “Anyway,” Sephryn said, facing the fireplace, “I didn’t believe any of it either, but it’s true. All of it. You’ll see.”

Farilane didn’t, but she wasn’t about to let it distract her. There’s more here, much more than fairy tales. “You were there, then? When Nyphron died?”

Sephryn stopped fussing with the fire and placed a hand on the mantel for support as if she were suddenly dizzy. “Yes . . . yes, I was there.”

Kile moved to the empress dowager’s side, then turned to Farilane. “Why don’t you show her the note from Bran?” he said, taking hold of Sephryn’s hand. Slipping an arm around her waist, he helped her back to her chair.

Is that the first time he’s spoken since we entered?