story - part 29 - lies - 1043 words

I need a break from the story. This is one of my most pleasant memories, and I do not want them to ruin it, I want to be able to remember it with joy. My eyes are closed, I can still smell the spice in the air of her house, I can still feel the fire that blazed hot in the fireplace in the winter, keeping us from freezing to death. I can muster a smile when I think about it, something distant and dreamy.

A throat is cleared, and I lose that warm and comforting memory. I am dragged back into this harsh and sterile room, walls that are bare of tapestries, half a dozen pairs of eyes on me. They all look vaguely uncomfortable, they are beginning to realize that they have dug at something personal and private, that they might be doing something wrong.

I let them sit in uncomfortable silence before lifting my head to meet Corbin's questioning eyes, to take in a note of jealousy on his face. Is he upset that a complete stranger could raise me better than my birth father? I hope this is the case, some wicked part of me smiles smugly at the idea, but I keep that to myself.

"It was not that eventful. Mother never sent anyone to find me, or never tried hard enough, and I do not expect that you even noticed I was missing." There is a nasty edge in my voice that I do not mean, that settles in of its own accord. I should apologize, but I cannot bring myself to do it.

It is strange, I expect him to be angry or frustrated, I expect him to glare or to shout at me. I am not prepared for the way he pales and his lips go thin, the fact that he looks almost embarrassed or ashamed. It is somehow worse that I have hit the nail on the head, and that I was right, he never did care even a touch about what happened to me.

"We sent a search party. The priests said that you ran off, that you were tired of your lessons and that you vanished without reason. We did not know which way to look, or even what to look for." It is true, but it is uncomfortable. Likely, the priests told him I was petulant and sullen. Altair probably had her hand in it, telling some story about how I snapped at a teacher, or how I sulked, or how I complained about the work. They all believed her, because I am the bastard child, the illegitimate one. It is expected of me.

No one speaks for a moment, again the silence is a tangible thing. I glory in it, in the fact that it proves Corbin's guilt, the fact that they all know I was wronged, even on a minor level. It lends weight to my side of things, I have turned into an abused and abandoned young adolescent in their eyes, it will be hard for them to get over the image of a broken man turning to the hard work of a peasant's life for escape.

"Well, ten years of that, living in that tiny cabin and helping the people in the town, always nervous that someone would show up to snatch me away again and ruin it all. And then you sent out that...that announcement, the request for a trustworthy physician." Shrugging, blinking back down to my hands, watching them out of the corner of my eye. They still have that guilty edge to them, I am winning this battle.

"I do not see who would have been better suited to the position." No need to clarify, or to explain that. I will let them come up with their own reasons for why I am best, as the Prince's private physician. They are more likely to believe the conclusions that they come to on their own.

"Except you lied to us. You gave us a false name, and lied about your wings." Edge with annoyance. Corbin frowns across at me, leaning forward on the table, fixing me with that intense stare. Yes, I am winning, but somehow that look still makes me feel small and pitiful. I have to fight for the right words.

"I did not. I did not tell you my name was Raven, I told you that I preferred to be called that. I never claimed to be a hunchback, you merely assumed it. If you had asked me to remove my cloak, if you had prodded for my real name, I would have obliged - but you wanted someone secretive, someone who knew how to keep his mouth closed."

This has kindled some more anger, but mostly because they know I am right, that this is fair on some level. I was sneaky, I did fool them, but there was nothing direct about it. On a subconscious level, this registers as worse, but on the surface they cannot figure out why, and so cannot act on it. And my tone is so flat and neutral, so carefully emotionless, that they do not even know how I feel or how to provoke me into an attack.

"We need to discuss." Corbin looks weary, blinks toward the nobles and then the guards, turns a stare on Rallus. The advisor nods his head absently and responds sluggishly, almost sighing, to nod that female guard over. She snatches me up by the elbow and leads me away toward the door, to escort me back to that uncomfortable chair and heavy metal chain.

"You are too much like your mother, Corbett." Coming from behind me, words falling limply from the King's lips, completely without passion. I have overturned his life, he does not know how to deal with this evidence of his mistakes.

I am halfway out the door, when I blink back over my shoulder toward him, and offer a tilted smile. While my mother has hurt me, while I hate her on some level, I still cannot tolerate the hint of disappointment in his tone. My voice is turned carefully calm and gentle, with sharp barbs laced into it.

"Better than being like my father."