“I’ll show you the newest fabrics for the princess,” he says, speaking loudly over the rhythmic noise of the looms. “I have some artisans who’ve done some incredible work with silver thread. This way.”
I suppose our discussion of intrigue is over.
But then Alek leans close. “Tell the queen what I’ve said.” He pauses. “Including my thoughts about Verin.”
I gasp and look up at him.
His voice is still quiet, his eyes blazing into mine. “I told you Verin was intended to take the throne—but Lia Mara took it,” he says. “And she might hide it well, but Nolla Verin doesn’t like our king any more than I do.”
“Verin is the queen’s sister,” I say. I’m thinking ofmysister. We might have our moments, but I can’t imagine Nora plotting against me.
Maybe the queen can’t imagine it either. Maybe that’s how she was kidnapped at all.
Alek lifts his voice and straightens. “Once you pick the loom work you like best, you can return in three days, and we should have some fabrics ready.”
It’s such an abrupt shift that I nearly stumble over my words. “I—yes, my lord.”
“Three days, Callyn,” he says pointedly, and now I understand. “After you speak with the queen, let her know that’s when you’ll need to come back.”
CHAPTER 18
TYCHO
It rains on and off for days.
I’ve made courier runs in bad weather before, and Mercy is as steady as ever, but the near-constant downpour makes the journey slow and miserable. We haven’t seen any more scravers ourselves, but as we’ve gotten closer to the Syhl Shallow border, we’ve heard tavern stories of attacks by winged beasts, which isn’t promising.
It’s cooler this far north, especially in the mountain valleys. In sunny weather, it’s pleasant, but the rain makes it hell. I’ve been shivering under my armor for the last day and a half, but Malin hasn’t complained, so I don’t either. Some of his easy nature slipped away as the long hours and driving rain wore on us both, so now he’s as quiet as I am. But it’s the only sign of strain. He’s proven to be sharp and reliable, waking early without being called, caring for both horses without being asked, doing menial tasks like rubbing down tack or sharpening blades or fetching buckets of water. When I suggested sparring in the mornings while the horses are eating, I expected grudging acceptance, because we’re both tired. But on the first morning, he was armed and ready before I was.
When the rain finally lets up, we’re nearing my last safe house on Emberfall’s side of the mountains, and I’m ready for a bed and a hot meal. We’re less than half a day’s ride from the Crystal Palace, but that’s if we could go at a good clip. The mud has been keeping us at a walk, and it’s late. Even the horses have lost their spirit.
But when we get to the safe house, we discover that it’s burned to the ground. All that remains standing is the stone chimney.
For a long minute, I stare at the pile of charred lumber in disbelief. There’s no sign of anyone, and everything left is soaked from the rain.
Malin looks at me. “When was the last time you were here?”
I think back. It’s been a while. The location is remote, set well off the road in the middle of the woods. Nothing anyone would stumble upon accidentally.
“A few weeks at least.” I inhale, and there’s only a faint lingering odor of burnt wood. Then again, it could have happened yesterday, and the rain could have washed it all away.
Malin sniffs, obviously thinking the same thing. “There’s no way to know how long ago it happened, but it doesn’t seem very recent.” He clucks to his horse and starts forward.
“Wait.” I’ve been so worried about scravers that I began to forget that Truthbringers still want to kill the king. I have no idea if this is related, but I don’t like the idea of someone burning down my safe house. It could have been done weeks ago—or it could have been done by someone who didn’t want me to stop herenow.
I swing down from Mercy’s back. Once my feet hit the ground, I send magic into the earth, letting it stretch out and away from me. This isseekingmagic, nothing Malin will see, and I turn in a circle, looking with my eyes while I feel with my power for anything: any people, any predators, anything that might mean us harm.
Nothing. No tracks here either.
I look up. “Ride a loop. See if you see anything.” I pull my bow free, then swing back onto Mercy.
He nods. I look at the sky again. It’s nearly dusk. Something about this feels deliberate in a way I don’t like. The last time I was due to stop here was the first night I spent with Jax. I haven’t been back since then.
Could this have been planned before the attack on the king, a way to prevent him from having anywhere safe to stop before heading to save the queen? Or could this simply be a tragic accident—completely unrelated to me and the royal family?
Malin returns to my side. “No tracks,” he says. “Though they could have been washed away.”
Underneath me, Mercy heaves a sigh and paws at the ground.
