The skin on my forehead gathers into a frown. “Plans, my lady?”
As I watch, ice forms on the leaf, and my frown deepens, because it’s no different from the scraver magic that I’ve already seen. “There are more scravers here?” I say, searching the trees again.
“No, Alek.” She smiles furtively. “You see, the king isn’t the only one who can share his power. The magesmiths and the scravers were once great allies. Weren’t they, Xovaar?”
For the first time, the scraver doesn’t answer. His black eyes stare down at me, and I can’t read anything in them.
Karyl doesn’t seem to need an answer. “There are ways to drive a magesmith out of hiding,” she says. “Sometimes it takes a full- scale attack— but sometimes it just takes a little spark.”
The leaf in her hand bursts into flame.
Even though she just warned me, I’m not ready. I gasp and stumble back. “Karyl. Do the others— do the others know—”
“They know,” she says. The firelight flickers off her cheeks, painting shadows in the hollows under her eyes. “And they know this is a means to an end. I have secured a scraver’s power.”
I think of how many Truthbringers have shared a distaste for magic with me. “And the others are in agreement with this?” I say.
“Yes. They are ready to reclaim Syhl Shallow. The scravers are ready to reclaim their magic. Together, we can find and eliminate every last one of them, and then I will give the power back.”
“Together,” I echo, though I’m barely listening. My heart won’t stop pounding, and my thoughts are racing. I’m planning how to get to Callyn without them knowing. I’m planning for how I’m going to get her out of the Crystal Palace.
I just don’t know where to take her. Orwhen.
What did Karyl just say? She has to be somewhere tomorrow night? Would Xovaar go with her? Is that an opportunity? Or just an opportunity for everything to go wrong?
My pulse jumps. There are too many variables. Karyl has magic, and the king is gone. I have no defense against any of this.
I look back at the scraver, sitting on that branch, his razor- sharp talons gripping tight.
— Yes,says Xovaar, but somehow the word is hollow.—Together. And then she will return our magic to us.
Well, if all I have is wit and arrogance, it’s going to have to do.
My sword is still in my hand, but I wipe the gathered frost against my boot, then thrust it into the sheath. “Fine,” I say, but this time, my voice is level. “I’ll find your magesmiths.”
“Good,” says Lady Karyl. “It’s time for you to prove which side you’re on.”
CHAPTER 17
JAX
When we ride out the next morning, the sky is overcast, heavy with unshed rain. The darker skies haven’t brought any relief from the heat, however. I can’t believe I spent years wishing I could have a chance to wear armor like a soldier. Now that I’ve spent two days sweating under the weight of leather and steel, I just want to leave it all behind.
Sephran was asleep when I slipped into the room last night, and when I woke hours later, Leo was in his place on the pallet beside me. The younger soldier was snoring away, the room flooded with sunlight, so I shoved him awake, worried we overslept. By the time we dressed and headed downstairs, the horses were saddled and ready. Tycho, Malin, and Sephran stood alongside, not speaking, their expressions stony.
I might have resolved things with Tycho, but it’s clear no one else resolved anything at all.
We aren’t riding as far today, and endless acres of crops force us to stick to the King’s Highway instead of traversing the open fields we galloped across earlier. The roadway is crowded with workers and travelers going about their early morning duties, so we keep the horses at a walkand break into pairs again: Tycho and Malin at the front, then me and Sephran, with Leo holding the back. At my side, Sephran has been unusually quiet, but I’m not sure how much I can pry, especially when we’re riding in such a tight formation. His expression seems permanently fixed in a glower, and I can’t tell if he’s more annoyed by Tycho or by Malin.
To his credit, Tycho has been coolly professional since the moment he handed me Teddy’s reins. I don’t know if he’s worried about discretion since we’re sharing such close quarters, or if he’s trying not to stoke the tension with Sephran any higher than it already is. Maybe both. But before he turned away, he let his fingers stroke a line across my arm in a way that made me shiver, and I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it. He’s riding right in front of me, and every time I glance away, my gaze is called back by something new: the sun gleaming on the gold of his hair, the way his back narrows into his waist, the sway of his body as he moves with the horse.
Last night he pulled my hand to his chest like something to be cherished. Like he’d never let go. I almost melted into a puddle right there.
No one can leave you behind. No one. Never again.
The words lit me up inside, a glow that refuses to dim. If I don’t stop thinking about this, I’ll melt right off this horse.
Then I glance at Sephran. His eyes are shadowed with exhaustion, but his whole frame is tense. I don’t think he’s said more than ten words to me all morning.
