Chapter 786: An Echo Of The Past
Chapter 786: An Echo Of The Past
"The first was Lady Aleah Olian."The world inside Tharionson stopped.
The imposter watched the realization begin to form and seemed to savor it. "Ah. There it is. That look. I have always loved the moment when a man understands that the answer was standing beside him while he searched for it."
Aleah.
Tharionson’s mind crashed backward to the infirmary, to the blind survivor, to the reports of stable vitals, to the death that had made no sense. He remembered standing over her body, remembered forcing healers to test for poisons, curses, delayed spells, hidden injuries, anything at all.
He remembered the rage of being told she had died in her sleep. He remembered refusing to believe trauma had simply taken her because Aleah Olian had been stronger than that. Now the truth opened beneath him, vast and sickening. Aleah had never returned.
The lone survivor had never been a survivor at all.
"She died in Corr," the imposter said, his tone almost sympathetic. "At the scene of the massacre. Quite bravely, I should add, though bravery rarely changes the ending when one is already outmatched. By the time your men found her, the woman you knew was already gone. What returned to the palace was merely a very convincing shape carrying just enough damage to be believed and just enough silence to be protected."
Tharionson’s hatred burned so hot that the inability to move became agony.
"It was easy," the imposter went on. "Almost disappointing. You were desperate for a witness. Desperate men are easier to lead than frightened ones, because they believe their urgency is wisdom. You wanted Aleah alive so badly that you accepted the version of her that could not speak, could not see, could not answer too much. A lone survivor from a massacre no one understood. How could you not guard her? How could you not keep her close? How could you not bring her straight into the palace, past your walls, past your wards, past every cautious instinct you normally pretend to value?"
The words were knives because they were not entirely lies. Tharionson had wanted Aleah alive. He had wanted a witness. He had wanted one piece of the massacre to be recoverable. That desire had opened the palace door.
"I let that face die when it became inconvenient," the imposter said. "A peaceful death, really. No poison to find. No wound to explain. No foreign Myst for your healers to chase. You were quite thorough afterward, by the way. It would have been flattering if it were not so time-consuming."