“I don’t know. It could be that a quake takes longer to build if the bloodstones are both dormant. You had only just awakened your bloodstone the night of the Feast of Remembrance, and then the quake struck at Esperance soon after.”
“And when we arrived at the palace, it took about the same amount of time for the first quake to hit.” She met Felinus’s gaze. “If there’s another bloodstone at Esperance, that means we’ve located three of the five bloodstones.”
He rubbed at his creased forehead. “It’s not a responsibility I wanted us to shoulder, but we can’t ignore them now. We must destroy them.”
The bloodstone in her pocket flared hotly, but she ignored it as she said, “Elevikus wrote that only a bloodstone can destroy another bloodstone, but that’s not very specific. And he also said it would tear the world apart.” That seemed important to remember.
Felinus’s eyebrows drew together. “It’s problematic, to be sure. But there must be a way to do it safely. Perhaps you can command the bloodstone you carry to destroy the others?”
Amryn clearly remembered that booming, all-consuming voice, and she fought a shudder. “I don’t think that will work. The bloodstones . . . they’realive, Felinus. They’ll fight to stay alive. More than that, I don’t think one bloodstone would help destroy another.”
Grooves dug deeply around his narrowed eyes. “Explain.”
She sighed. “The bloodstones are sentient. In Esperance, it nearly overtook me. I demanded its power, and it demandedmein return. Not just my strength, butme. My thoughts weren’t even fully my own by the end. I can access its power, and I can use it, but it uses me, too.” She shook her head, then reminded Felinus of how her bloodstone had reacted to the Dagger of Hafsin; the way the dagger had screamed, and her bloodstone had silenced it—soothed it. “It was the most violent quake yet,” she said, “and there hasn’t been another since.” That kind of power . . . How could she be expected to command it? How could she ever dream ofdefeatingit? Besides— “Even if we could use my bloodstone to destroy the others, that would still leave one bloodstone in existence.”
Worry swam inside Felinus. But there was resolve, too. “Even before hearing Von’s prophecy tonight, everything that’s been happening has felt fated. That the emperor called the Chosen to Esperance when he did. That you were among them, and that you married Carver Vincetti, of all people. That you found the bloodstone where it had been hidden on a remote mountain in the jungle, for who knows how long.” He shook his head. “Not only that, but you’ve foundmorethan one bloodstone. The Dagger of Hafsin, and whatever bloodstone lies within Esperance. Three bloodstones out of five, Amryn. That cannot be mere coincidence. The empath you saw, who heard Von’s prophecy when she touched his journal—shetold you she sensed you in those pages, and you yourself believe you may be The Flame, and Carver The Sword. Somehow, you have an important part to play in this. And that reassures me.”
Amryn choked on a weak laugh. “How? It only fills me with dread.”
Sympathy overtook his expression. “I understand. But Amryn, if you’re a part of this, then you’re meant to figure it out. Of this I have no doubt.”
“I have doubts.”
His expression gentled. “You shouldn’t. Not if fate is guiding you. You’ll end up exactly where you’re supposed to be.”
“Carver doesn’t believe in a set future.”
“Do you?”
She thought of the prophecy. The allusion to The Flame being responsible for some sort of choice. The bleak ending the words seemed to outline, no matter what was chosen.
“You said we always have a choice,” she said softly.
Felinus’s eyes gentled. “I believe we do.”
“Then how can you believe in fate, if you also think we have free will?”
He leaned back in his chair. “I suppose it’s because I believe fate knows us well enough to place us where we need to be, knowing the choice we’ll make before we even make it. Things work out as they should, in the end. Even if things aren’t perfect in this life, I believe there is more life beyond this one.” He cracked a thin smile. “Forgive me. I’ve settled well into my role as a philosophical cleric, I suppose.”
She gave him a smile, though it felt thin. “We need more information,” she finally said.
“We do,” he agreed with a nod. “Do you think your empathic friend could use her gift again? Perhaps she could touch the bloodstone and give us vital insights.”
“I trust her. And I think, after witnessing that prophecy, she’d be very willing to help us.” Ysabel had been visibly shaken. Not that Amryn blamed her—Von’s prophecy was disturbing.
“Good.” Felinus rubbed at his temple, his eyes falling closed briefly. She felt the growing ache in his head, because it was echoed in her own. Just as she felt his fatigue, marked with a fleeting dizziness. “I’ll search the library here at the palace,” he said, determination threading through his voice. “There must be something, somewhere, that can give us more guidance on how to destroy the bloodstones. We’ll find it, Amryn. I promise.” He lifted the sheet of paper still in his hand. “Ifyouarea part of this prophecy, know that you don’t have to face it alone. I’ll help in any way I can.”
A soft knock sounded on the door. “Lady Vincetti? It’s me, High Cleric Lisbeth.”
Unease rippled through Amryn, along with confusion. She had no idea why Lisbeth would come to visit her, let alone so late at night.
Felinus had stiffened in the chair across from her. She felt a muted pulse of worry from him as he asked, “Do you know who that is?”
She nodded, even as Lisbeth called again, “Amryn? Please open the door.”
There was no point trying to pretend she was asleep—not when Lisbeth could clearly see light spilling beneath the door. The guards might have even shared that she had a guest. Though it was a little strange they hadn’t been the ones to announce the high cleric.
Another knock had Amryn calling out, “Just a moment.”
