Izill nodded at Ezer’s trio of raised black scars. ‘Do tell.’
‘Shadow wolves,’ Ezer explained. ‘They attacked my village when I was a child. I was the only survivor.’
Izill whistled and spat a chewed fingernail into the fire. ‘Not many of you out there,’ she said. ‘Survivors, I mean. You’re godsblessed.’
Ezer doubted that, so she changed the subject to more important matters.
‘How did you know about the raphon?’
Izill grinned. ‘Everyoneknows about the raphon. Zey saw it. And so everyone knows because Zey knows.’
‘Zey,’ Ezer repeated, glancing over the back of the couch to the rows of beds and the blonde Eagleminder still sound asleep.
Perhaps she’d get lucky, and the woman would never wake up at all.
‘Eagleminders,’ Izill said with a sigh. ‘You know how they are.’
Ezer just stared at her.
Izill’s eyes widened. ‘Ehver above. So, it’s true, then. You really are an Unconsecrated.’
‘A what?’
The word sounded foul on Izill’s lips, like a curse.
She’d never heard it before.
But she’d also never heard of araphonbeing inside the Citadel. Clearly the countless articles she’d studied about the Citadel and its Sacred hadn’t come from very reliable sources.
When Ezer didn’t answer, Izill added, ‘AnUnconsecrated.A Sacred, born and raisedoutsidethe Citadel. Likely because one, or evenbothof your parents decided to lay down their oaths and leave.’ A pause as she tapped a fingertip on her lips, considering. ‘What’s your magic, then? Realmist? No. The dark hair, the scars, the mysterious glint in your eyes … you look a bit like an Ehvermage to me. No offense.’
Ezer pursed her lips. ‘Not a mage,’ she said.
‘A Scribe, then?’
‘I’ve no magic at all,’ Ezer said, because she didn’t know this woman,didn’t dare breathe a word about her connection to the birds. Her ability to see so well in darkness. The voice on the wind.
And certainly not her strange dreams of the prince.
She held out her empty hands. ‘I’m just … me.’
Izill stared at her for a moment, and Ezer wondered, not for the first time, just how convincing she could be at telling a lie.
Kinlear wasn’t fooled.
Arawn wasn’t either.
But Izill shrugged, as if she were instantly convinced. ‘Welcome to the club, then. Unfortunate, in this space, for there aren’t too many of us. They do try hard to weed out the weak when they match Sacred.’ She lifted her chin. ‘I’m nothing to be ashamed of, though. At least, not in my mind. I’ve always said a Sacred is a Sacred, even if they’ve just onedropof our blood in their family tree. Even if they break their oath and leave the Citadel behind.’
She was kind. An easy companion, Ezer could tell.
‘So, who was it?’ Izill asked. ‘Your mother or your father that broke their oath?’
‘Neither,’ Ezer said. ‘At least … not to my knowledge. They died in the attack. I don’t even remember their faces.’
‘A surname, then?’ Izill said. ‘You’d be surprised how many names you come across when you’re delivering laundry to every door in the Citadel.’
Ezer shook her head. ‘I’ve never known.’
