When Ravens Call: The Fourth Book in the Small Gods Epic Fantasy Series (The Books of the Small Gods by Bruce Blake (ebook reader with highlight function TXT) 📕

stood the men in black robes who'd killed Juddah and forced Ailyssa away. They remained motionless, arms raised to the sides to form a rough circle around a group of mounted warriors. None of them moved, but the sight of the shadowy figures tied a knot of anger in his gut. Now he recalled his name, he realized the connection he and Ailyssa shared came after everything else—she hadn't been a part of his life. But she'd been the only person to help him when he found himself lost, and she was gone.

"Teryk?" Ive prompted, pulling him out of his trance.

"I am the firstborn child of the rightful king, prophesied to save the kingdom from the return of the Small Gods."

His heart swelled as he spoke, and a lifetime of experience and emotion flooded into him. How many times can a son disappoint a father? Words sharp as knives had injured him time and time again, expressions of discouragement, accusations of failure. He'd never grow in the king's shadow and his kin before him, didn't expect to have a chance to until he and Danya discovered the scroll. Now the opportunity to prove himself existed. After losing his way, forgetting his identity and purpose, and finding himself locked up in Juddah's barn, these revelations laid out a distinct future ahead of him.

He sat straighter, pulled his shoulders back. A smile tilted his lips. He'd save the kingdom and show everyone his value, leave his father no choice but to be proud of him.

"There's but a small problem, right, Trenan?" Ive raised his hand, a dagger Teryk hadn't seen him draw held loosely in his finger. He pointed it toward the one-armed man. The master swordsman glared at him.

"What's he talking about?"

Trenan's eyes found the prince, his expression softened, but he chose not to answer. The weapons merchant clicked his tongue twice, shook his head in mock disappointment.

"You don't want me to tell him, do you? I feel it's better if it comes from you. What do you think, swordmaster?"

Trenan didn't speak, so Teryk turned his attention to Danya.

"What does he mean?"

She shrugged, but the set of her mouth and the tilt of her brows suggested she might know.

They're lying. None of them believe I can save the kingdom.

He rose, arms and legs flooded with the adrenalin of anger. Wasn't it demeaning enough his father didn't judge him capable of being a man? Now his sister and the soldier who'd raised and trained him had lost faith in him, too... if they'd ever had it.

"Tell me what he's talking about, Trenan. I command it."

The master swordsman lowered his eyes, bowed his head.

"My prince," he said so quietly Teryk strained to discern his words. "You are not the firstborn child of the king."

For an instant, the statement made little sense, and he thought Ive might have broken contact with him, but he felt his grip on his shoulder—looser, but present. Understanding dawned as he remembered things he had no right to remember, and Teryk's brow furrowed, his jaw tightened.

"What are you talking about? Explain yourself."

Trenan inhaled a slow, deep breath between his lips, let it out the same way. "The king is not your father, Teryk." He paused, swallowed hard. "I am."

Everything took on a red hue around him. His pulse beat in his ears. He looked from the soldier to Fellick, then Evalal, and finally Danya. None of them appeared as surprised as they should have been. Suddenly, his life made sense. A recollection of a hidden courtyard passed through his thoughts. He let it go.

"Does he know?"

"I..." Trenan began but then stopped, seeming to reconsider his response.

"Does he know?"

"He doesn't, but I believe he has always suspected."

Muddled, painful memories congealed in his mind. Everything fell together: his father's derisive comments; his parents' obvious preferential treatment of Danya; the care with which Trenan had trained him. His lips pressed into a bloodless white slash across his face, his eyes narrowed. The master swordsman might have looked after him, taught him and watched out for him, but he'd also deceived him for his entire life.

I'm not the firstborn. The prophecy isn't about me.

His lower jaw moved forward and back, grinding his teeth as his mind unwound the deceptions of everyone he'd ever held dear like unrolling a tangled ball of yarn. He recalled stolen glances between Trenan and his mother, unnoticed when they happened but living in his subconscious. He remembered his father's unearned flashes of anger, the stealthy looks, whispers and laughter of the queen's guards when he walked past. Even Fellick and Ive knew, and he didn't remember them being part of his life.

Did everyone know this secret? Everyone but him?

I have been such a fool.

He'd believed the words inscribed on the scroll capable of redeeming him, offering him the path he longed for to prove himself. But the dream lay dead, stolen from him by the people who said they loved him but lied to him for so long.

His chest tightened, his breath shortened. Trenan spoke, drawing his attention, but the pounding of his heart in his ears hid the words from Teryk. He dragged his gaze away from the treacherous swordmaster, past the squat and powerful Fellick, the lithe, concerned Evalal, until his stare rested upon his sister. Her mouth moved, but to him it made no sound. He recognized his name from the way she shaped her lips, nothing else.

He continued staring at her, his mind working through his rising anger, his disappointment. If Trenan sired him, then he wasn't the heir to the throne, and the scroll did not refer to him. The revelation placed Danya as firstborn and destined to save the kingdom while he languished. With the truth out, the king would disown him...if he let him live.

"How could you do