I think I'm prepared to turn around, that I've already figured out the shocking part, but when my eyes meet his ice blue ones, I'm thunderstruck. I know this pale, heart-shaped face, from life as well as art.
"It's a pleasure to see you again, your Majesty," says Asmund. He stands to about my own height, dressed in black velvet robes not at all typical of what the Ancients wear. His hair appears to be both a dark blonde and a light brown, depending upon the angle he holds his head. This time he's fully capable of speech.
This time he isn't smiling.
I can't escape my confusion—can't understand his presence here. First I knew him as a beggar; just yesterday he was revealed to be Nealie's second.
Could he also be the Arch?
"I know you," I say, although he's already acknowledged that. Once again, I'm struck by his youth. He can't be more than forty. I've always assumed the Arch-Ancient would be grandfatherly and decrepit, but this man is neither of those things. He's only slightly older than my mother would be if she were still living.
"We have crossed paths, yes," he agrees. "Allow me to properly introduce myself. My name is Asmund." I frown.
"I know what your name is."
"Wonderful," he intones, almost melodically. "Then we can skip the introductions."
"You were my mother's second." Suspicion eats at the words, as absolutely nothing falls into place.
How can this be the man Thane spoke of?
"I was," he confirms, offering nothing more.
"I thought you were excommunicated," I say bluntly. He shows no signs of being affected by the word, although I find myself flinching at the sound of it.
"Do you know how a new Arch is chosen when the time comes?" he asks me.
"No." I shake my head. "Does anyone?"
"I suppose not," he says, almost jovial. His cavalier attitude is setting my teeth on edge. "But that is a lesson for another day."
"So you are the Arch?" I ask, still looking for confirmation.
"What do you think?" he asks, smiling easily. I stare at him, eyes narrowed, not caring for his games.
"But the Arch is supposed to be hidden. I saw you in public," I challenge.
"There are many ways to conceal oneself." He gives me a knowing look. "You should know that better than anyone."
Fair enough, says the part of my brain that's still processing logic.
"So you are the Arch," I say again, this time shoving the words at him like an accusation.
"If you say so." His eyes dance with amusement, and I'm suddenly furious. Anger courses through me like the legendary forest fires of the south. Although I'm no longer sure of very much, I'm positive I don't have the patience for riddles.
"The Arch only reveals himself in times of great peril." I glare at him, reciting from the Book of Ancients. He cocks his head at me.
"Look outside these windows. Are we not living in a time of great peril?" He blinks slowly. "The time has come for me to intervene."
"I've been trying to stop it." I end up biting down hard on my tongue to keep from saying more.
I'm not supposed to know about the prophesy, I remember too late. How can I talk about the Thaw without betraying Landon?
YOU ARE READING
The Ivory Rite
FantasyQueen Diem has a deadly secret-one that has already cost the lives of everyone she's ever loved. In a land long ruled by men, she must forge her own path as the first female ruler the kingdom of Domhan has seen in two centuries, a task that will be...
