“Wait!” he shouts, panic cracking his voice. “I’m telling the truth! I don’t know where she is. Not now.”
Orios looms over the bed, his hands closing around the male’s head like he’s holding an overripe melon, ready to crush.
“What do you mean,not now?” I ask, stepping closer.
“Because it moves,” the male whimpers, Orios’ grip tightening, his thumbs pressing against his jaw. “Driftspire moves!”
I raise a hand, and Orios halts. “Driftspire. What is that?”
The male peeks out from between Orios’ fingers, his voice trembling. “When House Ithranor fled the Sundered Kingdoms, we built a new home in the sky. It’s where we’velived all these years. But it doesn’t stay in one place. It moves with the wind. Almost impossible to find.”
“Then where was it last?” I demand.
The male hesitates, his eyes darting nervously. I nod at Orios, who resumes his squeezing.
“Here!” the male shrieks. “Not far from Ballamar City. I broke from my house here and chose to stay.”
“How long ago?” Zyphoro presses.
He shrugs helplessly as Orios tightens his grip again. “Weeks! I’ve lost track!”
I glance at Zyphoro and find her already looking at me. Her expression is grim, the truth settling between us like an uninvited guest. “If this city moves, they could be anywhere by now,” she says quietly.
She’s right, and the reality of it ignites something dark and restless in me. My anger surges, curling my fingers into fists. I barely register Orios still poised to crush the male’s skull.
“Enough, Orios,” I command.
He obeys immediately, and the male collapses onto the bed, trembling, his hands roaming over his head as if to reassure himself it’s still intact.
My jaw tightens, and I force the anger clawing at my throat into words. “But she is alive?” The question leaves me in a hoarse voice I hardly recognize.
“Yes,” the male whispers. “She is alive. They keep her well. And not only Anethesis… she is protected too… by the Golden Son.”
The fire in my veins ignites into an inferno, my canines lengthening as the shadows gather thick and hungry around me.
“He is with her?” I snarl, my voice a low growl as rage twists inside me and the shadows coil tighter.
The male’s heartbeat pounds in my ears, frantic and shallow, the scent of his fear thick and intoxicating. I’m one step from the edge, ready to let the darkness devour me, when Zyphoro’s hand clamps down on my shoulder.
“You knew he would be,” she says firmly, her voice cutting through the haze of rage. “Calm yourself, brother.”
“We could take to the air,” Reon suggests.
“But where would we even begin?” I snap, bitterness edging every word. “If the city moves, it could be anywhere. It might’ve passed right over us, and we’d never have known.”
“There might be a way,” the male mutters, barely audible.
All eyes snap to him, and he shrinks back, hands raised defensively. “I’m not the only Fae who found refuge in Ballamar City. There are others, and they have something you might find useful.”
I narrow my eyes, scrutinizing him. “What other Fae? More Ithranor?”
“No.” He gulps, his gaze darting around the room as if afraid of being overheard. “House Taramethos.”
I scoff, disbelief flooding my tone. “House Taramethos? Here?”
He nods quickly, desperation in his movements. “They practically rule this city from the shadows.”
Reon’s gaze drills into me. “If House Taramethos is here… they might have a…”
