We sat down for dinner at a long, simple table of dark brown wood beneath a high arched pavilion at the front of the uppermost building. Religion was even scarcer here than Rhodaire, but some traditions still persisted. It was customary in Trendell to serve guests an arrival meal after a long journey to ease the body, accompanied by live music to ease the mind, and we’d each lit a candle before sitting, signifying our safe arrival and the completion of our journey.
A flutist played a gentle tune in the corner as servants brought us roasted duck in plum wine sauce, sliced parsnips and carrots with brown sugar and walnuts, and flat, grainy bread to mop up the juices with. Pitchers of ruby-red wine sat scattered on the table alongside different types of juice.
I tossed Res a piece of duck. He gobbled it down, despite having already finished an entire chicken. Though his appetite had returned, he still grew flustered whenever I suggested using his magic, which only made me more nervous about tomorrow’s meeting. What if they asked to see his powers?
Tentatively, I sent a questioning pulse down the line. Res eyed me with a tilt of his head. Then he was gone in a flash of feathers, slipping away to go beg from Caylus instead. My stomach sank, but I pushed the doubt away. He’d be back to his scone-loving, mischievous self in no time. He had to be.
Still, the food on my plate suddenly made my stomach turn.
Caylus had no such problem. He’d already gone through two plates and was on a third. He sat to my left, deep in conversation with one of the Jin soldiers who’d traveled with us, discussing something to do with Trendellan dinner ceremonies. Across from me, Kiva sat angled toward Auma, a smile lighting her face.
For so long, I’d been stuck in a strange world and surrounded by people who hated me. Being here, feeling the strength of Estrel beside me and surrounded by people I loved and trusted, I felt safe for the first time in a long time.
Until I felt a burning gaze at my side, where a girl glared at me from the end of the table. She was Jin, a twisting pattern of thin scars curling up the side of her face in place of tama. Her dark eyes burned with a familiar fire as they bore into me.
Hatred.
A thick jade ring, lined in amber and gold, glinted on her left hand. It tugged at a memory.
I leaned into Estrel, drawing her attention from a conversation with Samra. “Who’s that?” I asked, nodding discreetly toward the girl.
A wry smile curled Estrel’s lips. “That is Elkona Kura.”
I stiffened. I might not be as educated in world politics as Caliza, but I knew that name: she was the Jin princess. That explained the ring—everyone in the Jin royal family wore one. Or at least they had. Now there was just Elkona. She was the only survivor of Razel’s massacre, and she’d come to hear my proposal.
And for some reason, she looked like she wanted to skin me alive.
“She doesn’t look pleased to see me,” I muttered.
“I wasn’t,” Samra remarked. “And she has more reason to hate Rhodaire than I do.”
Estrel cast her a flat look, and to my surprise, Samra drew back as if she’d been chastised.
If Caliza were here, she’d know exactly what to say to quell Elkona’s fury. Or at least funnel it into something productive. My instinct was to return her glare until one of us had to blink.
Instead, I turned back to Estrel. A thousand words gathered in my throat. I had so many questions, so many things to tell her, that I didn’t know where to start. So I began at the beginning, telling her everything that had happened in Illucia. Except as I spoke, Estrel seemed to withdraw, curving away from me. She grew stiffer with each word I spoke, like an injured soldier waiting out the latest wave of pain.
When I reached the discovery of the other eggs, she went incredibly still, as if my words were a spell and even the shallowest breath would break it.
When I told her about Res’s other abilities, she nearly dropped the drink she’d been clutching like a lifeline. “All of them?”
“All of them. And it gets weirder.” I told her of Ericen’s claim about the Sellas. “Maybe it’s all connected,” I finished. “Res’s powers and the Sellas.”
“This has nothing to do with the Sellas,” Estrel replied sharply.
I’d expected her to deny the ancient creatures’ existence, to say they were gone, not confirm Ericen’s outlandish claim. From Samra’s expression, I had a feeling she’d known too. Ericen hadn’t lied to me. Somehow, the Sellas were still here, and for some reason, both Estrel and Samra had known.
It was yet another question, another secret, but I couldn’t bring myself to ask just yet. I thought I’d lost Estrel, and now that I had her back, I didn’t want to fight with her again. Because I knew I would. The hurt, the anger—they sat inside me like hot coals. There were so many things she’d kept from me, her survival most of all, and I was afraid of what she might say if I asked.
Some of those questions could wait. Others changed everything. So I forced the next words out between clenched teeth. “Ericen told me that Razel is working with the Sellas. Did you know that too?”
Estrel paled, her hand closing around her cup. “It sounds like the prince likes to talk about things he doesn’t understand. Ignore him, Thia. He’s lying.”
“Like you lied?” The words were out before I could bite them back.
Estrel recoiled, her lips pressing in a firm line. I waited, expecting her to explain, but she said nothing. She looked worn. Exhausted. As if the answers to my questions were weights too heavy to carry.
“Estrel’s right.” Samra cut through the tension between us, forcing the conversation back to Ericen. “Illucians lie. It’s what they do.”
“Why do you all keep saying that?” I threw up my hands. “He’s the only one who told me the truth about their existence. What good does lying about this do him?”
“It gains him your trust,” Kiva said, my raised voice having caught her attention. “It gains him you.”
Something about the way she said it made me momentarily unsteady. I gripped the edge of the table, centering myself. “And then what? He tricks me into traveling all the way back to Illucia and straight into Razel’s open arms? He’s a traitor!”
“Or he forces you,” Kiva said. “We don’t know that bounty isn’t a ploy. It’s exactly like something the Illucians would do. And if it isn’t, then delivering you to his mother would clear his name.”
I snorted harshly. “He could have taken me in the forest. He didn’t need to make up stories.” Stories that were apparently more than stories.
“But Razel has more pieces on this game board than we do, and we can’t let our guard down just because you refuse to see the darkness in someone,” Estrel said.
“I’ve seen it just fine,” I growled. “But there’s more to him than that.”
I had to believe that. I had to believe war would not be his legacy, as it would be his mother’s.
I had to believe there was hope for peace.
“Perhaps you can put that faith to use.” Auma leaned forward from a whispered conversation with a servant. “The prince claims he has important information, but he’ll only tell Princess Anthia.”
“No,” Kiva and Estrel said at the same time.
I stood. “Where is he?”
Auma rose on silent feet. “Follow me.”
* * *
Kiva insisted on coming. I expected Estrel to do the same, and though she eventually followed us, she’d looked hesitant to do so. I’d never known her to hesitate over anything.
I left Res in Caylus’s care, and we set off along a twisting cobblestone path that ended in a squat, rectangular building on a lower terrace. We entered a long hall with several closed iron doors across one face. Along the opposite wall, silent and still as hunting jungle cats, stood hooded Trendellan monks.
Trendell’s army wasn’t large, but it was incredibly capable. The monks were a small sect, raised as warriors and assassins from a young age. But where Illucians worshipped war and bloodshed, the monks approached mastering their skills as steps toward fulfillment. I’d been fascinated with them for years.
Auma led us to one of the closed doors. I frowned as Kiva crowded after me. “I’ll be fine,” I said.
Kiva’s hand fell on Sinvarra. “I know you’ll be fine, because I’m going to be right there to run him through if he tries anything.”
“And I’ll just cower in the corner while you do that,” I replied drily, earning an annoyed look from her. “Stay here.”
Auma nodded to one of the monks. They unlocked the door before returning to their place along the wall with hardly a sound. I pushed the door open.
A single sona lamp hung from the ceiling of the small room, its light consumed by the shadows at the edges. It was enough to illuminate Ericen, who’d been bound to a chair with his hands behind his back. He looked uncomfortable but unharmed.
He smirked. “I don’t suppose you brought dinner?”
Rolling my eyes, I closed the door on Kiva’s murderous glower and leaned against it, folding my arms. “Drop the act,” I ordered. “Or I’m leaving.”
The words had my desired effect. Ericen’s smirk vanished, the threat behind his eyes evaporating like mist on a hot day. His shoulders caved as he settled deeper into the chair, but the arrogant air didn’t entirely dissipate. It never did, but something still seemed off about him. A little…wild.
“I wasn’t sure you’d come,” he said.
“I followed you into a forest alone at night,” I replied. “You think I’m afraid of facing you tied to a chair?”
He shrugged, the action pulling his tunic tight against his broad shoulders. “I wasn’t sure they would let you come,” he clarified.
“You should know me better than to think I’d let that stop me.”
He grinned. “Oh, I do.”
His words reached deeper than I expected, dragging their claws along something inside me.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked, settling into the familiar comfort of our back-and-forth.
“Just that I like to think I know you rather well.”
“Really. What do you know?”
He leaned back in the chair as much as his restraints would allow, his gaze ensnaring mine. “I know that some part of you, beneath that façade of peace and harmony, wants war.” I started to protest, but he pressed on. “Because just stopping Illucia won’t be enough for you. Just stopping my mother won’t be enough. You want to tear her apart for what she did. You want to make her suffer.” He smiled that wolflike smile of his. “You want revenge.”
I stared at him, his pale gaze turned hazel in the orange lamplight. My words stuck in my throat, my thoughts tumbling as I struggled to parse my feelings about what he’d said. Yes, I wanted revenge. I’d promised Samra I would make Razel pay for what she’d done, and I meant it.
But would I pursue that at the cost of peace?
The anger inside me was a constant simmer, simply waiting for a breath of fuel to ignite into an inferno so hot, it could consume anything in its path.
And Ericen could see it.
Some part of me knew he was looking for common ground, growing that connection that had always strung between us in hopes of rekindling my trust. But that didn’t make what he’d said wrong. I’d ordered Res to destroy those Illucian ships without hesitation, and they wouldn’t be the last casualties of this war at my hand.
“What’s the point of this?” I asked. “In the forest, you said you had something else to tell me about the Sellas. What’s this got to do with any of that?”
“Nothing at all,” he replied. “I just don’t like seeing you lie to yourself. You have every bit the potential to become a monster as I do.”
His words stole my breath. They made me feel raw and exposed, and I was thankful for the shadows the dim light provided.
“What do you want, Ericen?” I asked hoarsely.
He studied me without answering, a look on his face I couldn’t decipher. It was careful, considering, as if wondering how much further he could push me until I cracked. As if wondering if he wanted to.
I glowered back at him.
At last, he replied, “You have Sella blood.”
“What?”
“One of your ancestors was a Sella,” he said. “I think it’s why your family’s blood is the only thing that can hatch the crows. It might even be related to why Res can use the other abilities. I don’t know. All I know is that my mother was supposed to deliver you to the one she’s working with after you hatched the crows, and now that you’ve escaped, she’s desperate,” Ericen continued. “Desperate enough to attack Trendell.”
This was the information he’d promised in exchange for talking to me.
“If they give you up, she’ll stay her army,” he continued. “But if they don’t, it’s reason enough for her to finally strike Trendell.”
If that was true, it meant my meeting with the king and queen would hold even more weight than before. If I failed to convince them to ally with Rhodaire, would they turn me over to Illucia to protect themselves?
“Could she sustain that?” I asked. “She had to draw troops from Jindae and the Ambriels just to attack Rhodaire. She couldn’t fight a second war spread so thin.”
“She might not have a choice,” Ericen replied. “The Sella she’s working with is dangerous, Thia. She still wants you to hatch the crows, so when all this is over, she’ll have an army to deal with the Sellas if she needs it. But they want you now. Her deal with him is precarious. You know the stories. They don’t like to have their bargains broken.”
The stories from Saints and Sellas came floating back. Tales of cruelty and power, of spilled blood and broken bones at the hands of a people too old, too inhuman to feel remorse for what they did.
And Razel intended to set one loose against Rhodaire.
I folded my arms. “But if my Sella blood is why I can hatch the crows, and Razel has a Sella working for her, why can’t they just hatch the crows for her?”
“That’s what I asked,” he replied. “Apparently it’s a power that was gifted to your family and them alone. I don’t know more than that.” Concern tightened his brow. “All I know, Thia, is that you’re in far more danger than you think.”