Seraphina squeezed her eyes shut. Tears pricked at the corners, hot and stinging, but she fought them back. She breathed in the scent of the old paper and the dry dust of the room, forcing her heart to steady its frantic rhythm.
Thank You,she prayed silently,for not abandoning me.
She folded the letter with care and tucked it away next to her heart. Oracle Tsukiko had known she would be here at the Dawnspire, not at Goldreach. She had bid Cyneric to change course before Goldreach even fell.
Did that mean the coup had been inevitable?
That nothing she could have done would have changed the outcome?
“Cyneric,” she murmured, her eyes flashing back open. “What are our numbers?”
Her cousin turned from the window, his expression grim but alert. “I brought nearly the entire strength of the north, Your Majesty: three thousand heavy infantry, five hundred archers, and two hundred cavalry with their varhounds.”
He gestured vaguely toward the window, toward the mountain passes beyond. “I had to leave some men behind at Snowcrest. My brother, Rowan, has command of them. The mountain tribes are restless—more so than usual.”
Seraphina nodded slowly, absorbing the numbers. Three thousand. It was a formidable force for a field battle. But for a siege? Against the walls of Goldreach?
“And your other brothers?” Duke Percival asked, leaning forward, his hands tightening on the head of his cane.
“Knox, Slade, and Wulfston are with the main host, waiting down the pass at the first outpost,” Cyneric reassured his father. “Godwyn remained behind with Rowan.”
Duchess Edith let out a long, shaky breath, her hand finding the duke’s knee. “They are safe. Thank the Lord.” After a moment, the older woman’s attention shifted back her way. “And you, Sera? Are you all right? You seem…pensive.”
Seraphina’s lips hitched into a faint smile. “I am.” That wordinevitablestill nagged at the back of her mind, making her thoughts whirl. If the fall of Goldreach had been inevitable…had the fall of Mysai been, too?
“Your Grace,” she whispered, her attention trailing toward her godfather. “I have a question. And I need the truth. Not the truth you give a goddaughter to comfort her, but the truth you give a queen.”
Duke Percival straightened, his brow furrowing. “Ask it.”
The words were heavy on Seraphina’s tongue. But still she had to ask. Still, she had to know. “If we had known about Edmund’s alliance with Arath sooner…if we could have foreseen his betrayal months ago, could we have saved Mysai?”
The room went still.
Duke Percival looked confused by the shift in conversation. He glanced at the duchess, then at Cyneric, before meeting her gaze once more. He opened his mouth to speak, paused, and then sighed—a sound of deep, weary resignation. “You want my honest opinion?”
“I do.”
“Then the answer is ‘No.’”
The word hung in the air, stark andbrutal.
Duke Percival shook his head slowly, expounding, “There was nothing we could have done to save Mysai. It was a city of artisans and merchants sitting on the doorstep of your enemies. It had been an advantageous outpost once, when we were still at peace with Arath, but the moment they declared war—the moment they decided to take it back for their own—it was already lost. We could have sent every soldier in Elmoria, Sera, and it would not have mattered.”
Seraphina’s breath frosted in her lungs.Inevitable. “Why…” Her voice cracked, and she cleared her throat, forcing strength back into it. “Why did you not tell me this sooner?”
“I tried,” her godfather whispered, his eyes full of sorrow. “But you were so set on saving it. You were so determined to cling to the last reminder of all your forefathers had worked for that you did not want to listen.”
Seraphina was on her feet in the next moment, though she could not even remember standing.Inevitable.
Mysai would have fallen regardless.
Even if Aldric had told her about the witchblade sooner, even if she could have guessed at Edmund’s alliance with Arath even then…it would not have mattered.
Mysai would have still fallen.
The realization hit her not with pain but with a sudden, dizzying release. For weeks, she had carried the souls of Mysai on her back. She had believed that her ignorance—and Aldric’s silence regarding the witchblade—had condemned them.
But it hadn’t.
