Judging by the look on Dorian’s face, it had been entirely the wrong thing to say. I met the sharp eyes of the beautiful woman he’d called Lady Xia . . . Siaki. The name had been spoken with familiarity, suggesting this was one of Dorian’s friends.

I squelched a twist of jealousy, trying not to focus on the jeweled brooch she wore at the shoulder of her dress, which was identical to Dorian’s. She was about his age, or a little older, but I knew instinctively that she was the kind of woman on whose face the years would never show.

“You’re a mem,” she said, her face expressionless.

“Aye.” I glanced at Dorian. “From all you say, Lord Draven is unstoppable, except by war. A war which will result in the deaths of thousands, maybe even hundreds of thousands.”

“There are avenues for diplomacy,” he said quickly. “Not every thane in Memosine is for war. And the Council of Eight may yet be swayed.”

“Perhaps,” I agreed, “but Lord Draven is the central piece. If we found the Reliquary, and I could get close enough to him, we could—”

Dorian cut me off. “Absolutely not.”

“Dorian, let Miss Winter speak. I wish to hear what she has to say.”

His eyes flickered. When he didn’t interject, I continued, “If we could gain access to Lord Draven’s personal chambers, I could use the Reliquary to permanently alter his memories. I could rearrange his ambitions and priorities and selectively erase memories of his past. That would effectively eliminate him as a threat. All without killing him or taking him captive.”

Lady Xia ventured closer. “You could do this?”

“With the Reliquary, I could.”

Dorian’s jaw tightened. “Even if you succeeded, Sephone, what of justice? Draven is guilty of murder. And not just the murders of my wife and daughter, but dozens, perhaps hundreds more innocents. Could you alter the very person he is? The very fabric of his personality? And after he is removed from power, are we to try him for crimes he does not even remember?”

I could hear the anger in his voice. And the anguish. His eyes lanced me with an unspoken accusation. You would erase Draven’s evil, and yet you would condemn me to remember Lida and Emmy forever.

“I don’t know,” I had to admit. “That depends on the Reliquary.”

Lady Xia glanced at Dorian. “Whatever we decide, it is good to have another option to present to the members of our former League—one that does not require needless bloodletting. If Miss Winter is willing to risk her life for our cause, I will not attempt to dissuade her.”

Now it was Dorian who remained impassive.

“It would seem our purposes have once again aligned, Lord Adamo. Find this Reliquary, and use it to deliver yourself from the demons stalking you. Then return to us, and we will decide what to do with it. In the meantime, you have my guarantee that I will do everything in my power to prevent us from entering another war.”

Dorian wet his lips. “There is one more thing I would ask of you, my lady.” He looked at me. “Wait for me downstairs, Sephone.”

I nodded and bowed to the lady thaness, whose lips once again twitched. I was somewhat taken aback, but I couldn’t help glancing at Dorian as I made my way to the stairs. Once again, jealousy pierced me at the easy conversation between them.

I decided to wait outside, hoping to see a hint of the blue sky I’d glimpsed before. But from the forest floor, the crowns of the trees all but blocked out the light, revealing only brief snatches of cerulean.

After a while, I heard Dorian’s voice from behind me. “Sephone.” He pulled me away from the Letheans still standing guard.

“What is—”

“Not here. Come on.” He led me away from the trail to a patch of uninhabited trees, these ones closer to normal size. When we were alone, he folded his arms against his broad chest. “I didn’t bring you with me so you could put yourself in more danger.”

Was that it? Did he truly fear for my safety?

“You shouldn’t have told Lady Xia that you’re a mem.”

“I thought she was your friend.”

“She is. My friend, not yours. To her, you are little more than a soldier. A pawn she will not hesitate to use should that be the only way to avert a war.”

“I offered my help freely, Dorian,” I pointed out.

“You don’t understand. Letheans may shun the past, but memories of its knowledge and technology are still considered valuable. Now she knows what you are, she may utilize your gifts to Lethe’s advantage.”

What you are, he said. Not who you are. It was the way most people spoke of alters, as if they were little more than animals. I had expected better from a man who was an alter himself.

“I am willing to help,” I replied, despite the sting from his choice of words, “but I only see memories, and even those can be garbled or muddied by basic human feelings such as fear or hunger. Our ancestors who fled as refugees thought to take very little with them—even those things that do not require hands to carry them. A great deal of knowledge, as well as civilization, perished with the world-that-was. I rarely understood what I saw.”

“And that is for the best,” Dorian said emphatically. “Lethe cannot comprehend the fire with which it toys. They would do anything to avoid sharing the fate of the world-that-was. But I fear it is that same desire which will bring us to the brink of extinction once again.”

I hugged my arms to myself. “But you were the one who prevented that. You averted another war.”

“Aye, the old Dorian Ashwood.”

“You are still the same man.”

He glanced at me without humor. “I wish that were true.”

“You mentioned Lord Draven, and that he wants to be king.” Once again, I saw him grimace, but now he studied me carefully.

“You want to understand the danger.”

I nodded.

“The leader of Memosine is the arch-lord; the leader of Lethe, a vice-regent. Caldera has never had a king. The world-that-was had kings, and it did not work out so well for them.” He hesitated. “But you have seen this already, surely.”

“Aye. A little.” Mostly in Lord Guerin’s mind, and much of that had never made sense. I was not half as interested in politics as Regis had been.

“There were two things the exiles—our ancestors—did not bring with them from the old world. Kings and gods. They thought that if they left them behind, they would leave the worst of themselves behind with them—that they might save themselves from sharing the fates of their lost loved ones. And of their beloved homelands.”

“But they didn’t.”

He shook his head. “It was not long before they realized they had brought the worst of themselves with them—along with the demons of a haunted past—even though kings and gods had stayed behind.”

Thinking of the war that had torn Caldera in two at the very dawn of its creation, I had to agree. Gods and kings might have perished with the world-that-was, but evil still lingered.

“Even so, you are afraid of a king?” I asked.

“I am afraid of what Draven will do as king. Absolute power can destroy even the best of men, and Lord Draven is already rotting from within.”

There was a silence, then I asked another question.

“Lady Xia referred to your gifts. Gifts which helped you to form this so-called League. But I only know of one. What else have you kept from me, Dorian?”

His mouth quirked. “You miss very little, Sephone Winter.”

“And you reveal even less,” I ventured. “You can speak the common tongue without an accent. Your secondary gift is languages, isn’t it?”

All traces of merriment vanished. “Aye, it is. I can speak any language, so long as I am in physical proximity with a native speaker. When I was young, it took time to consolidate the learning—days, or weeks, even—but now, it takes only a few minutes to adjust. When I am in Maera around my own people, who prefer the Memosinian tongue, my accent gradually returns. But it becomes fainter again the longer I spend in the company of other languages.”

No wonder he had been able to negotiate an alliance between the lords of Memosine and Lethe. To hear an ambassador in your native tongue—perhaps even your unique dialect—would go a long way to establishing trust. Combined with his abilities as a calor, it came as no surprise that men and women believed in him . . . and chose to follow him.

“Is that why you have so many friends?” I asked curiously. “So many hidden allies?”

“Aye, perhaps, though I flatter myself that they sought my friendship for more than my gifts.” He flashed a smile. “I will admit, my gift with languages was an enormously useful ability as a thane, then as an ambassador. Even if I hadn’t been interested in politics, my father would have insisted I occupy some kind of leadership position.”

I remembered his words to me the day I’d discovered he was a calor. My gift is a force for good. Apparently, he had been right. His gifts would prompt any person to trust him intuitively. Perhaps it was that which had drawn me to him the first day we’d met. Dorian Ashwood had never once felt like a stranger.

“Will you teach it to me?” I asked impulsively.

“Lethean?”

I nodded.

“Aye, though I fear I’m a far better speaker than I am a teacher. One can know the what of something without knowing the how or the why.”

“I don’t mind.” In truth, as much as I desired to learn my native language, I also wanted his company. Trying to avoid him the past week had been painful . . . even soul-draining. At least this way I would remain close to him. Though I would have to be careful a sober Cass didn’t attend our lessons, lest Dorian accidentally discover my feelings for him.

I will never remarry, Sephone, not even for subterfuge’s sake. It simply wouldn’t be fair on the woman . . .

What wasn’t fair was yearning for something that would never be. But at that, at least, I’d had a whole lifetime of practice. In time, I would learn to be content with his friendship, even knowing I would never have his heart.

“We will find another way to stop Draven,” Dorian suddenly said, as if he’d been contemplating that the entire time I’d been musing over my feelings. “When I am myself again, I will be able to think of something. I promise, you won’t have to confront him on your own.”

Did he believe I was afraid at the possibility of coming face-to-face with Lord Draven again? If only he knew that was the furthest thought from my mind. His gift wrapped around me, lending me courage. And it wasn’t unwelcome. I wondered if he’d ever craved it for himself, the same way I hungered for the blissful ignorance of the mind-bleeding.

“What did you want to ask Lady Xia? Or is that another secret?”

“Nay.” He looked sheepish. “I simply did not want you to witness another of my failures. Lady Xia has connections in Calliope. I asked her to see what she could do to rescue Mister Keon, my father’s faithful servant who helped us escape the capital.”

I stared up at him with open admiration as a warmth filled me that had no prior association with his gift. It was then that I knew the true reason why so many followed him . . . a reason that had naught to do with imparting courage or speaking native languages.

Dorian Ashwood never left his loved ones behind.