“The garden hasn’t been tended to,” I said in an attempt to break the icy void between us. Hosmunt simply grunted as he ran a tanned hand down his elongated beard. Streaks of grey punctuated the black strands, a few even peppering his combed-back hair. I looked closer, noting the deeper wrinkles around his eyes and in his forehead, as if he frowned more often than not.
I knew that if he looked hard enough, he’d see the evidence of time and hardship writ in the lines of my face as well, in the scars that littered my skin and marred my fingers. There was no escaping the bell of time for either of us.
Hosmunt wore a nearly plain red kaftan, the embroidery just as bright but not as ornate as my own. Even the sash that belted his trim waist was devoid of any ornaments. My eyebrows twitched, recalling my father’s words about legacy.
Surely he was not speaking about Hosmunt?
Is there something bigger at play?
The secrecy of our meeting, coupled with the wealthy vizier who “welcomed” me to Iluul, bespoke of something deeper hiding beneath the surface.
But what?
“I’m sure by now you’ve heard of your father’s passing?” Hosmunt’s soft voice broke my thoughts, and I gave a terse nod of my head.
The grief surrounding my father’s sickness and death was not something I wished to discuss with anyone other than Ellowyn.
“You were in his rooms with him last night.” A statement, not a question. Again, I nodded as I reached for a second flatbread and cheese.
“How?”
“I have command of air,” I said with a casual wave of my hand, indicating the breeze I created earlier.
Hosmunt shook his head violently. “No. You had cuffs on your wrists. It blocks all channeling of power.”
My hands turned clammy, the sweat on my back now feeling cold, at the slip of my tongue.
“Where did you get those, by the way?” I asked, trying to divert his attention from the uniqueness of my powers. The last thing I wanted was to be trapped in Iluul, my magic exploited, and without the army I was sent to retrieve.
“Don’t distract me, Torin.”
I leaned back as I popped the food into my mouth, desperately trying to maintain casual indifference.
“An answer for an answer, then,” I tried, pleased when he reluctantly nodded. “You first.”
“The cuffs are from an inventor in Vespera,” he said as he poured a small shot of espresso. My brows furrowed at the admission.
“Vespera? I didn’t know you had contact with Vespera. Who—” Hosmunt held up his free hand to stop my question as he took a sip of coffee.
“A question for a question, Prince.”
I sighed heavily with a nod, mind churning at the insinuation that someone was making power nullifying cuffs in Vespera, and no one knew of it.
“My . . . power is different. I don’t use a Vessel or crystals. I have a well. Adeepwell I can pull from.”
“Godling,” Hosmunt said, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise. My expression must have mirrored his own.
“How—how do you know that?”
He waved a hand at me before refilling his cup and moving to fill mine.
“Vespera is not the only place with an extensive library, Torin. Surely you must know that? Iluul is one of the oldest standing cities—we were here long before the gods, and we will be here long after. Our empire once stretched as far north as the modern Borderlands, some accounts indicating even farther. Our knowledge is as vast and varied as our history. And here I thought theLordof Iluul would know these things?” The last part of his statement was spat with unconfined vitriol.
Here,here, was the man my father warned me about.
“Of course I do, Hosmunt. I just wasn’t aware that research on gods and godlings was in your repertoire.”
My calmness irked him.
