Estela’s voice is tight. “And the people? You believe they’ll follow you so easily?”
“Like I said, they already doubt him,” Mrath says simply. “He weds a human while the elements turn silent in his presence.”
Her eyes flick toward Teo, catching the torchlight. “And Arion knows this. He plans to pull every desperate thread he can to keep himself seated. He means to bring back those long exiled, the old war mages, the forgotten killers, the ones who hid themselves when our kind began to fracture. They will all be weapons in his hand that could also be used to prevent my bid for power.”
The temperature in the room seems to drop.
Mrath lets the silence stretch before she adds, voice low, deliberate, “Among them, there is one he seeks a relationship with most of all, the one they call the Living Shadow.”
The words crawl across my skin.
“He believes,” Mrath goes on, “that this assassin—this ghost of the old wars—will answer to him. But I have already found my way to that particular door.” Her smile widens just enough to make my pulse falter. “And when it opens, it will not be his name the Shadow answers to.”
I shift on my feet. She’s been in contact with Castien?
Teo exhales, long and slow, but he doesn’t speak. The room feels smaller, as if the air itself contracts around her words.
Mrath straightens. “Arion’s pride will undo him. His weakness will do the rest.”
“Very well, Mrath. A deal is a deal. We will help you in any way we are able,” Teo says, his hands resting on the table, knuckles pale. He sees the change in Mrath as well. To refuse her would be foolish.
Estela’s jaw tightens as though she’s swallowed something bitter.
Even as a smile blooms on her cold, angular mouth, Mrath’s face darkens. “I thought you would be amenable. Remember, Troll King, I do not forget my allies.”
I sit back, silent, the echo of Castien’s memory moving like cold water through my chest. He is coming back into the light.
Will he try to see me again? Will I be strong enough to bear it after how we left things?
In that moment, one of the Enduar guards enters the room.
“My sovereigns. Lord Vann has arrived on a dragon—” he starts just for another presence to push in behind him. One clothed in tattered rags, covered with long-dried blood. The glinting blade of his cleaver sticks up over his shoulder. His hair is unbound and tangled, and his cheeks are purple from exertion.
He leans against the frame of the door, chest heaving, and groans.
“Vann,” Teo says, exhaling like he is letting out months of tension. “You live.”
Vann looks up, clearly exhausted and possibly injured. Ulla, Teo, Estela, and I begin moving toward him simultaneously.
“They have Arlet.”
“Lord Vann, you look like you are about to faint.”
“I need to leave!” he shouts, and I am taken aback at his outburst.
Mrath lets out an amused sound. “You are not leaving until you tell us everything you know.”
Vann growls, like a feral beast wounded in a corner. “Only if it will be brief.”
Chapter 8
VANN
“Bring food!” Teo calls to the guard who led me here.
The others clear out of the throne room, leaving only Mother Liana, Ulla, Mrath, Teo, and Estela. Many of the council cast me looks that range from pity to curiosity. I ignore them, instead staring at a fixed point on the wall where a red crystal glows as Mother Liana’s and Ulla’s hands move over my body, using magic to encourage my tired Fuegorra to heal the small remains of cuts over my arms and legs. Flying had not been kind to me.
And now the crystals feel too familiar. The brilliant dance of red against the gray stone feels unbearable. All I see is Arlet—all I feel is her presence lingering in this place. She should be here right now.