“Torin believes what she saw in that vision,” he said neutrally, the wind whipping black hair around his rugged, scarred face.
“Torin believes a lot of things, Zeph.” I pressed my gloved hands to my stinging cheeks. “Look, I’ve had a long fucking day and you’re the last person I want to argue with, but there is not one credible shred of proof the Triune is real. Do you know what is real? This Dark Prince. After I kill him, once the actual threat is removed, I’ll search for these relics and if I happen to find them, I’ll make sure they’re brought back to Tempeste, where Torin can melt them down into a pretty necklace, for all I care.”
“Torin doesn’t like necklaces.” He slid me a cautious smile. “And I highly doubt there’s a forge in existence hot enough to melt those relics down.”
“Well, display the damn things on your mantle, I don’treally care, as long as the threat from the south is gone and we all live happily ever after.”
“Those relics are the real threat,” he said softly. “Without them, this prince is just some Fae tyrant with a god complex. The Triune is your only mission. The prince, whoever he is…”
“Don’t tell me what my mission is, Zeph. I’m godsdamned well aware of how to do my job.”
Zeph opened his mouth, something like pity stirring in those fathomless eyes. “I know you’ve been lost lately, Lyrae. Fuck, we all have. After years at war, all this endless peace…grates on you, in a way war doesn’t.”
“Lost…yes…lostis one way to put it.” More like time stretched out too long. Meetings and supply chain issues and decorating questions felt a long way away from patching up one of your friends while they screamed in the mud.
Listening to fall harvest reports and road expansion plans instead of beheading innocents during royal audiences…well, that was an improvement, but the days did seem to blur together.
“But this…vision…” he frowned, “Tor used to have them all the time, you know. And every time she did, I swear the world itself would stop spinning for a second, like time got hung up on whatever she was seeing.”
“One of Torin’s visions changed the entire course of the war once,” I murmured, brushing snow off the balustrade. “I was a no-name grunt, down in the mud, but one word from her had us running for our lives.” Back then, Torin had worked for my enemy, Zephryn was a prisoner and fucking Ryland Storme was still considered dead.
By me, anyway.
“If Tor saw blood, then there will be blood,” he went on,his expression serious, like he was schooling me. “If she saw three of something…there will be three…of something. I know this isn’t helpful, but stay on your toes, and don’t overlook anything, no matter how insignificant, because every detail could be important.”
“So if I see three big, bloody Howlers heading my way, then I should worry?”
His lips quirked in a half-smile. “If you see three of those, run for your fucking life.”
Zeph stepped beside me, big hands curling around the snow-covered edge of the wall, his expression serious again. “I don’t like this Storme character. And Kronos is no tracker. I don’t trust them.” He jerked his head toward the door leading out here, a sliver of golden light slicing through the frozen dark.
“You shouldn’t. I sure don’t.” I rolled my neck, feeling the shift as my vertebrae popped back into place. “But Storme’s telling the truth about one thing. He’s been to the Shadowlands. Many times. He can get me inside, and that’s all I need him for.”
“Raziel’s offered to go along.” Zeph said casually. “That way, if things go sideways, you’d have someone you trust as backup.”
He’s good with a knife and not afraid of spilling blood, was the unspoken message behind his pointed look.
“I can handle Storme and Kronos.”
In truth, Raziel would cramp my style. Not that he balked at a little murder, but this…this was mine. After waiting so fucking long, I couldn’t risk anyone getting in my way, not even a friend.
“Wait, Lyrae, that’s all I ask.” My brow crinkled and he gave me a knowing smile before heading in the direction of the open door. “I don’t know what these bastards did to you,but I saw the looks on their faces when they spotted you in the throne room. And I saw yours. Now come out of the cold before you petrify.”
I followed him in, waiting for Zephryn’s inevitable argument about leaving our allies alive, about being a good soldier, about the mission coming first. Too many pent-up emotions were swirling for me to formulate a coherent argument he’d believe.
“They hurt you. I don’t need details, and I’m not stupid enough to tell you what to do. If you give them what they deserve, who am I to judge? But I will ask one favor. Wait until you don’t need them anymore, before you dump them in a ravine. Use them to get through the wards, to find your target.” He thumped down the stairs, torches flickering in our wake.
“You’ve waited this long for vengeance; you can wait a little longer. Once they’ve served their purpose, I don’t give a good godsdamn what happens to them.”
He paused before we entered the War Room, big hand braced on the thick door. “We need this threat eliminated. We need that prince dead and if the artifacts do exist, Torin wants them under lock and key, where they’ll be safe. If they ever fell into the wrong hands…”
If something that powerful came into play, we would be at war again, and as much as I hated my boring nine o’clock meetings and picking out drapes with my queen…I secretly loved this life, too.
I loved this world we’d built from the ashes, and the way children walked by themselves to the market without fear. I loved how flowers spilled from flowerboxes and shopkeepers called my name when I passed.
I especially loved the nights I stood on my balcony, looking out over Tempeste with a sort of awed wonder,where music floated softly through the streets and every small, golden light was precious.
This was the life I’d never had.
