I hastily wiped the tears away. I’d steered away from this topic on purpose. “It’s nothing.”

“No, something’s wrong. What is it?”

I looked at him. His face held the same concern Insa’s had. I wanted to ask him why the Desert Boys had killed my mother and brother, two innocents in this fight. I wanted to believe we could somehow move past it, that these past few days had changed things. But they hadn’t.

I shook my head and looked away.

“Kateri,” Cion said. “Please tell me.”

“I . . . was just thinking about my brother.” I shoved off the crib and moved toward the door. “We should go before the other boys miss us.”

But Cion didn’t move. He stared down at the baby in front of him.

“Your brother?”

“Forget I brought it up,” I said, moving toward the doorway. But Cion’s next words stopped me cold.

“What brother?”

My stomach twisted. How could he pretend not to know? Cion had said he’d joined the Desert Boys when he was older, so maybe he wasn’t part of the raid on the palace. But he had to have heard about it.

I swallowed down my anger and straightened my shoulders. Defeating Rodric was more important than having it out with Cion.

Realization dawned in Cion’s face. “You can’t believe the tale that claims the Desert Boys killed your mother and her baby.”

I slowly turned around. Sweat trickled down my back. I could feel the camaraderie melting between us as he faced me.

“Are you saying they didn’t kill them?” He should’ve at least been able to admit it.

“It never occurred to you to question what you were told?”

I shook my head. I didn’t know what he was talking about.

“You really think the Desert Boys raided the palace even though they’d never gotten inside before or since then? You think they moved past all the guards without a single one noticing? And you think the only thing they would take from the palace is the life of a woman and child?”

His words pounded through my head. They struggled to fit in with what I knew of the past—of what I knew about the Desert Boys now.

“The Desert Boys didn’t kill your mother and her baby,” he said. “Your father killed his newborn daughter and the wife who didn’t produce any sons.”

CHAPTER

15

“How can you say that?” Heat seared through my veins. I clenched my hands into fists. My fingernails felt sharper than tiger claws as they pierced into my skin. My father may have done terrible things, but he wouldn’t have done that. He couldn’t have. Not the man who raised me, the one who tended to my wounds.

“The same man who cuts off well access to control the people wouldn’t kill his own wife to avoid making himself look weak for having another daughter?” he said.

“He didn’t have a daughter. He had a son.”

Cion straightened. “It was a girl.”