It’s both a map of Alfheim and the neighboring immortal realms, the handwriting tightly scrawled, as if it was transcribed in haste.
Draven draws a line with his finger between the capital and a nearby canyon. “So,thisis where the zenith is?”
Zara nods.
His voice turns inward, caressing my mental shields until they invite him inside.The vein is ancient, untouched, and near a derelict, deserted forge. We cannot guarantee the Wand would be here, but—
But there’s a chance,I agree. This was our deal, but my mind is too full of everything Malik and Fable just told me.
And the Ring sounds like it could’ve been the prize for the Kingbreaker Trials. Which means it’s with Eldarion’s heir, too far and guarded for us to reach right now. But if your brother survived, he likely attends the same school as the prince—he’s the right age—so it’s possible our search could turn up both. But we can only try for your mother until we narrow the list.
I give him a tight nod.
Draven loses no time turning to Scorpius and demands, “I need you to mimic me. Do whatever you do to make people think I’m more charming than I am. See if you can get me into Eldarion’s good graces. Make note of everyone he talks to. Every person he shows remote attraction to.”
“Got it.” Scorpius transforms into Draven with all the grace Morgan’s poor performance lacked. It’s as if he’s shed hisskin completely, wearing Draven’s well-earned confidence and charm, even his haughty smile. But his eyes steep in indigo, never changing, unlike the real version.
Draven turns to Malik.
“I know how to earn my keep,” Malik says. “I’ll report anything I hear and keep an illusion of Rune, Scorpius, and Zara walking around.” Malik’s Devil Arcana springs forth, and copies of me and the others are drawn out of nothing, moving to replace where we’d all been standing. “I’ll add a little flare to cover anyone sensing the magic we’re using.”
Fireworks burst out of his hand, rising and halting midair when they hit Fable’s power.
“Got maybe a minute left, Draven,” Fable hisses back at us.
“Come with me.” Draven draws me from the grand ballroom.
We move quickly down a side hall, toward a balcony that juts from the castle over the expansive citadel below, nestled within the vast cavern. Moonlight shines down on this part of the city, dappling the buildings and homes below us in swaths of silver blue. Warm candlelight flickers in near every window below us.
“Illithial,” I say to Draven immediately. “We need to get to Illithial.”
“Patience, Wraith.” He summons Death’s shadows, and a vortex of night opens, but it’s out beyond the open air. He turns to me. “I cannot guarantee the woman Eldarion spoke of is your mother, but I’m willing to risk pissing him off to see.” He points to the spiraling black vortex. “Technically this castle is warded, so creating a portal within its walls would leave holes in their defenses that would set off alarms. But just outside its walls….”
“How about we use some stairs, Draven?” I snap, blood rushing out of me at the devastating drop.
“We don’t have time. Fable won’t be able to pause that ballroom for much longer, and if we get caught leaving … well …I’d rather not think about it.” Draven steps onto the railing, leaning back to me with his hand out. His lilting voice teases me, the sweep of his eyes sending chills down my spine as he says, “Don’t worry. I won’t drop you, love.”
“Why do you have to say that like you’re planning to?” My eyes narrow but he just takes my hesitant hand and pulls me up onto the ledge as if I weigh as much as a paper doll. I wrap my arm around his neck, and he scoops me up. “Listen, Draven, I can’t thank you enough—”
His wings flare wide, and he throws us off the ledge, flapping once, twice, until those wings tuck tight, and we go spinning through the open portal. Floating in the open air like that, it must barely evade the magical defenses of the castle. The dark winds scream, like wolves howling in the night, and there’s a scent of decay in the air that’s new as we fly through it. Then all at once the pressure of the space is gone and we’re at a large estate set into a canyon, windows and doors slanted into the side of the face like little scars. I don’t know where exactly we are on the map, only that my mother might possibly be inside. I’m so close.
Draven turns to me. “We can’t be seen. I need you to summon your Hermit card. I can cloak us with shadows, but it’ll help if you have your own protection in case we need to separate. Remember, elves can sense magic. It sort of smells like fire in the air I guess, so although we’ll be invisible … we aren’t undetectable.”
“Wouldn’t they have sensed all the magic we just used to leave?” I point behind us, where the portal and castle were moments ago.
“Malik’s firework display will undoubtedly put on a show to distract everyone to mask our usage. Hopefully they won’teven suspect we’ve gone.” Draven nods to my cards, urging me to summon them.
“Right.” I’ve never used the Hermit for my entire body, only enough to make my hand go unseen. Even then I’ve usually wound up spotting my body the moment it moves, camouflaged but not truly gone, like a chameleon but not glass. “How does it work?”
“Think of every time you were the Wraith of Westfall. The times people would glance right over you. Every time you were too small to be noticed, too insignificant,” he instructs, and I summon the Hermit card, sinking into the memories. I need this. I need this to work.
The memories seep like mud, draping to every inch of my mind. My hands begin to warp in the moonlight, the bronze fading, as if I pull the colors of the world into my skin instead.
“You may be mighty, but you must remember just how no one noticed you even when they should’ve. How your cries went unheard. How your life went unnoticed.”
Tears threaten to rise and when I open my eyes, the opaque coloring fades, my body going clear. I look to Draven, but he’s gone, too. Then his hand finds mine, holding it tightly, and I can feel his body brushing against mine. He leads me inside.
We open the front doors quietly, slipping within, but we’re not alone.
