Though I’d never been here—Gyoria, a region I typically avoided—I could admit it was exactly as they had explained. Located over the sea in a port known for smugglers and the like, it was the only place in Gyoria where a Thalassari, an Aetherian, and a human could sit together unnoticed.
When one’s activities were illegal, they were less likely to question the actions of others.
“The Gyorian woman,” I said. “With her hair in a circlet braid?—”
“I saw her,” Marek responded before I could finish. “With the weathered leather doublet?”
“Aye.”
“Did she summon him?” Issa asked.
It was no wonder this was the team Mev and Kael had assembled for a mission as important as ours. Marek noticed what most would not. Issa surmised what others would have waited for me to explain.
“I’m assuming she did,” I said.
“Do you think she is our contact?” Issa asked.
“Uncertain,” I admitted. “But since we arrived a day early, I do not believe so.”
“Agreed.” Marek looked around the small tavern. “But the sooner we can make contact, the better.”
None would argue that point.
As we ate, and drank, in silence, waiting for Ilyas to return, my mind wandered back to the king’s directive. One which my parents, two of the most influential nobles in the Aetherian court, had no knowledge of as they were now retired from the king’s employ.
Go to Gyoria. Infiltrate the court. Get the Stone of Mor’Vallis.
No easy feat for someone such as me.
An Aetherian noblewoman and friend to Gyoria’s most notable traitor, the king’s son.
Kael was less welcome here than all three of us combined, but that didn’t mean he had stayed away. After the third artifact had been recovered, he immediately left Aetheria to treat with his brother Terran and attempt to convince him to switch sides. To choose peace over war. Love over hate.
For his efforts, Kael had nearly been discovered by his father’s men and almost been killed.
And so we were here to finish the mission Kael started. Retrieve the stone, bring it back to Aetheria and reunite all three clan artifacts. Only then could we reopen the Aetherian Gate, the portal to the human realm that King Balthor had closed nearly thirty years ago.
“There is a… complication.”
Ilyas, who’d returned to the table a moment ago, sat.
“What is it?” Marek asked.
“Seryn was discovered. And executed.”
I froze.
Seryn was one of two Aetherian spies Mev and Kael relied on for information. But Seryn was more than just a spy. I’d suggested him for this mission. After proving his worth by summoning and dispersing a storm on the Sky Pinnacle at Aetheria’s most sacred festival, the Trial of the Tempest, King Galfrid had asked me to train him. He was a more adept air-wielder than most, and for a time, I thought perhaps his magic might even surpass that of the king’s.
It did not… though I suspected there was one alive now whose magic might make that claim. Even so, he was clever. Kind. And supremely talented. And now he was dead.
“How?” I asked, my fists clenching.
“He was discovered?—”
“How was he killed?”
Ilyas, Marek, and Issa exchanged a glance. The smuggler frowned.
