“Birdie?” Orden asked in a panic.

Birdie collapsed forward, and Orden barely caught her in his arms before she hit the table.

“Cyrene, a little help over here.”

She rushed over and carefully leaned Birdie back. Cyrene made sure she was breathing and then checked her pulse. It was erratic at best.

“I think she fainted.”

“Creator,” Orden cursed. “We can’t leave her here like this.”

Just then, the back door crashed open, and a figure rushed into the room, brandishing a sword. Her skin was the same dark brown as Birdie’s, and she had a long, dark mane flowing down her back. She wore fighting leathers and was armed to her teeth. She would have been glorious to behold…if not for the fact that she was about to skin them alive.

Cyrene latched on to her magic to use against this woman, but she never had a chance.

“Gwynora?” Orden whispered like a prayer.

The woman turned to face him, straightening and somehow gaining even more height. Her eyes rounded when she beheld who was before her. “Orden?”

“Yes.”

She didn’t lower her blade. “What are you doing in my grandmother’s home?”

“We came for a reading.” He pointed at the bowl full of bones.

“We?” Gwynora glanced once at Cyrene. “Drop your magic, or I’ll gut him like a swine.”

“Just do what she says,” Orden said.

Cyrene ground her teeth together but released her hold on her powers, letting the sweet feeling dissipate. “She has the gift, too?”

“It skips a generation,” Gwynora informed her. “Now, tell me the truth as to why you are here and what you are doing with my grandmother.”

“Truthfully, Gwyn.”

“Don’t call me that,” she snarled.

Orden held his hands up. “We have been looking for someone who knows a way across the ocean. I exhausted all of my other options in the city before I came to see Birdie, and she offered her assistance.”

“Of course she did. She’s senile.” Gwynora gestured for them to move away. “Let me check on her.”

Cyrene and Orden slowly backed away from the edge of her blade.

“Grandmother,” Gwynora cooed. She slowly ran her hand in front of Birdie’s face, as if she were testing something. “Grandmother Birdie, are you all right?”

But Birdie didn’t wake up. She just lay there, breathing deeply.

“She has depleted her energy. She is old and frail, and you should have known better.”

“My apologies,” he said quickly.

Gwynora whirled her blade in a circle. “Get out of my house.”

“Gwyn, we didn’t mean to—”

“I said, get out of my house!” she roared. “Take your new magic toy with you and go save the world.” She sneered. “Cross the ocean. Do whatever it is the great Orden of Aurum has up his sleeve and leave me…us out of it.”

Orden swallowed and looked as if he was about to say something. But Cyrene was pretty sure, if he did, Gwynora was going to launch that blade right at his throat. And Cyrene was good…but she didn’t want to have to find out if she could save him in time.

“We’re going,” Cyrene said. She shoved Orden toward the exit. “I’m sorry about your grandmother, and please tell Birdie we said thank you when she wakes up.”

Gwynora bared her teeth at Cyrene in response.

Cyrene pulled the door closed behind them and turned to face Orden, who was staring off into the festival. She opened her mouth to ask him what had just happened, but the words died on her lips. A year ago—honestly, just a couple of months ago—she would have made some quip and demanded answers to what she’d witnessed. But she could guess enough from the altercation to know…he wasn’t ready to talk about it. If he had never once mentioned Gwynora in all their time together, today probably wasn’t the time either.

“Don’t,” he finally said.

“I wasn’t going to.” She patted his back twice. “Why don’t we get back to the inn and have a few tankards of ale?”

Orden’s eyebrows rose. “Truly?”

“I think it would help everyone after what we heard and saw tonight.”

Orden gave her a relieved smile, and then they disappeared through the crowd once more.

Cyrene’s mind buzzed with all the new information she’d gained from one short meeting. Another magical user and one who could see when others had powers. That was an incredible gift. It brought a touch of a smile to her face as they veered back out of the festivities. But that was the only thing bringing a smile to her face these days.

Birdie’s warning about Avoca was…a disaster. How was she supposed to tell Ahlvie that? Let alone that they were staking their reputation on finding a man with a red feather in his hat, who could hopefully take them across the ocean to this Alandria. It sounded ludicrous, but she had come to realize that, sometimes, the best plans were the ones that were most unexpected.

All she knew was that Serafina had told her to find the lost ones to learn her spirit magic.

As if it were so easy.

As if it even made any sense that she was communicating with the ancient Domina Serafina. Her entire life, she had been raised to believe that Serafina had been a tyrant who was killed by Viktor Dremylon to end her reign of terror. But not only had Viktor and Serafina been in love, but they had also bound themselves to each other, using dark blood magic, which crossed generations. That binding still held Cyrene and Kael in its clutches, driving them forward to their destiny. The Heir of the Light and the Heir of the Darkness would face off to decide humanity’s fate.

A fate she was running headlong into.

She still struggled with the fact that she was descended from the ancient Domina herself. She didn’t know if she would ever understand her destiny. Just that she would do anything to stop the persecution of people with magic and to allow people to be free to live as they chose. And, if Serafina’s warnings were any indication, a dark force was growing in Emporia, and she needed to be ready to combat it when the time was right.

When they finally reached the inn once more, Orden turned to Cyrene and said, “Mind not mentioning Gwynora in all of this?”

“I don’t see how she’s relevant to our plans.”

He shot her a wry smile. “You have come a long way since I first met you.”

“I’d hope so. I was bleeding out when you met me.”

He guffawed. “You were impulsive and believed everything you ever did would end the way that you wanted it to. You might have earned your caution the hard way, but it looks good on you.”

“Thank you.” Cyrene’s throat was tight.

They moved through the inn and up the stairs to find that Vera, Matilde, and Mikel had congregated in Avoca’s room. Cyrene was still baffled and amazed at the sight of Matilde’s husband, Mikel. He had been under a sleeping draught for over two thousand years and believed that it had been a matter of days. He remembered nothing from his time sleeping, just that he had been left behind by The Society to let others know that the members and dragons had gone to Alandria. Except the mountain had caved in, and no one had ever found him…until now.

“Is there nothing else that you could try, Mikel?” Matilde asked again.

“I was a warrior, not a medic. We tried using our magic and imbuing her with the elements to replenish her supply. It will take time, and even then…I don’t know. If we could reach my kin in Aonia, then perhaps they would know where to begin in such an instance.”

Cyrene gasped.

All eyes shot to her standing in the doorway.

“Did you say Aonia?” Cyrene whispered.

“Yes,” Mikel said, standing up straight at her question.

“You’re…a Leif?”

“I am. Many of us dragon riders were Leifs.”

Matilde reached out and placed her hand on Mikel’s arm. “My love, I have wanted to tell you.” She glanced to Vera once, who nodded. “Aonia…was destroyed. The ancient temple and tree were burned. You have only one living relative left from that Leif settlement.”

Mikel’s eyes were wide with horror at this revelation. “Just one?”

“Ceis’f,” Cyrene said.

She couldn’t imagine how he must feel; after everything he’d been through, he’d just discovered that he had no one else left from his home, except…Ceis’f.

He shook his head. “I think I need a minute.”

Then, he disappeared from sight.

“I’m sorry,” Cyrene said.

Matilde held her hand up. “He had to know sooner or later.”

“Yes, but with so much else going on…”

“He is strong,” Vera told her. “He needs time to process. We know someone else who recently needed time to process the death of his people.”

Cyrene swallowed and glanced away. Dean. They hadn’t talked about him since he left their party in Fen. They had said good-bye that day in the mountains, but he had promised it was not forever. As prince of Eleysia, he had to get his home back under control after Kael burned the capital city to the ground. Her feelings were still mixed up about Dean, and she didn’t like to think about him. They had more pressing matters to concern themselves with.

“How is Avoca?” Cyrene asked instead of responding.

“The same,” Vera replied. “I see that you have returned without Ahlvie. Your meeting must not have gone very well.”

Orden pulled out a chair and sank down into it. “Ahlvie shifted and disappeared. The meeting was, however, fruitful.”

“Some good news finally,” Matilde said.

Cyrene explained all that Birdie had told them. But, by the end of the conversation, the twins looked less impressed.

“A mystic,” Matilde said with a sigh. “Just what we wanted.”

“The last one was—” Vera began.

“Out of her mind, yes.”

“They all kind of are, aren’t they?”

“The ones we’ve encountered over the years. I don’t put much stock in their…powers.”

Vera sighed. “Neither do I. True Doma magic doesn’t need crutches.”

“Hello? We’re still here,” Cyrene said, waving her hand. “You’ve met someone like this before?”

“Yes. Quite unreliable. Usually insane,” Matilde said.

“So…you think we shouldn’t look for this person at the docks?”

“Of course you should look,” Vera told her. “But, if you don’t find anything…it’s likely because she’s a quack.”

“I’ve known Birdie for many years, and she is not a quack,” Orden finally interjected.

Matilde and Vera raised their eyebrows.

“Why do I feel as if there is a part of the story you left out?” Matilde asked.

“I vouch for her, and that is all you need to know.”

Matilde scoffed, but Vera placed her hand on her arm.

“Tomorrow, we need to scour the docks. Hopefully, Ahlvie will be back by then, so we’ll have more of us out there,” Cyrene told them. “Unless anyone has a better idea about how we’re supposed to cross an ocean.”

As predicted, no one did.

“Great. Let’s just…get some sleep and figure out everything tomorrow.”

Orden nodded his head at her. A silent thanks for not divulging anything about Gwynora. Matilde and Vera seemed suspicious and shockingly prejudice against a mystic they had never met. There had to be a story there that they weren’t telling them. But, whatever it was, they both told Cyrene good night and left her alone with Avoca.

Cyrene sighed and plopped down next to her friend. She probed the bond between them, thankful once again that it was still there.

“I wish you were here, Ava,” she whispered into the silence. “I wonder what you’d say about all of this mystic business. If you’d crack a joke or agree with the twins. Or mostly roll your eyes at Ahlvie.”

But Avoca didn’t acknowledge that Cyrene was talking to her.

She didn’t do anything but continue to lie there, sleeping.

Despite the fact that walking into this new problem, they had more knowledge than normal, Cyrene felt even more lost. Avoca was her tether. She was strong and steadfast. And their magic worked better together than it ever did apart.

And it made her wonder how much of what Vera and Avoca had said was true. Doma magic needed no crutches. But Cyrene felt as if she had been using Avoca as a crutch all this time. Without her, Cyrene felt…empty.

Not just in her magic, but also in her soul.