I hold my breath and search for the magic.
The wound closes. Effortless, as if I never lost my rings at all.
It wasn’t a dream.
From behind me, the king says, “Maybe you should start with that.”
I explain about Alek’s comment during the card game, how I think the Truthbringers have been securing Iishellasan steel that may be used against him, and that’s why I followed. I tell him how Nakiis proved to me that wearing the rings for so long would allow the magic to seep into my blood until I would no longer need the rings at all.
“Iisak used to tell me that any tools fashioned from that steel would be closely guarded,” Grey says. “I thought he meant because of how much power it would grant the bearer. But maybe it was more.”
“You’re not upset.”
He frowns. “No. Relieved, actually, to think Lia Mara might have some protection if they’re holding her. I’m sure they would have taken her rings first.”
“Lia Mara is no fool,” I say. “How would they get close enough to take her?”
He’s quiet for a long moment. “Sinna.”
I swallow. “Nakiis said there were many traitors at the palace. That he was trying to lure Sinna away from danger.”
“And you believed him?”
Grey doesn’t sound skeptical. He sounds like he wants a genuine answer. So I nod. “If he truly held a grudge against you, he could have killed us both right then and there. He’d have no reason to lie.”
“Does he know who’s holding them in Briarlock? Does he know what weapons they have?”
My chest constricts. I should have asked—but I didn’t. “I don’t know.” I pause. “We should wait for Rhen’s forces.”
“They have my wife and daughter. I’m not waiting.” He looks at me. “If Nakiis is so innocent, why did he leave?”
“I don’t know that either.” I glance at him. “He’s very wary of your power.”
Our power.
The instant I have the thought, a jolt goes through me. From the instant I met Grey, the magic has always been his. Any bit of power that I could use came fromhim, was granted by him.
Now … it’s not. I flex my fingers by my side, feeling stars in my blood, ready and waiting.
Magic of myown.
I expect him to come up with a plan, now that he knows what we might be facing, but the king says nothing more. There’s a part of me that wants to leap aboard Mercy and finish racing toward danger—but a bigger part of me knows it would be the worst kind of reckless.
And if anyone goes racing off on my horse, it’s going to be him. My heart beats hard with every step, waiting for him to make the demand, because this time I’d have no way to stop him—or help him.
But he doesn’t. “Why did Nakiis help us, if he was so wary?” he says.
“I bartered for his help.”
He’s quiet for a moment. “Why?”
“Why?” I round on him so quickly that Mercy throws her head up and snorts. “You askwhy? Because you wereunconscious! And Mercy was lame! The queen and your daughter are in danger! Do I need more reasons? My only other option was to carry you twenty miles while leading an injured horse. Forgive me if you feel that would’ve been more prudent, but you went tearing out of Ironrose without a plan, so—”
“Enough.”
I clamp my mouth shut. My fingers are tight on Mercy’s reins, my shoulders tense as we walk.
“What did you barter?” he asks.
