“What is it? Why do you keep looking at me like you’re afraid?”
She shook her head as if to clear it. “I don’t know. Maybe I’m just not used to seeing you like this. You fully alive, while I’m the only one who’s a spirit.”
That made sense. It was strange seeing her as a colorless being, and not the bright figure he’d known in the crystal.
She settled upon the closed trunk at the foot of Teryn’s bed. “I can’t shake my guilt over what I’ve done. Particularly how my actions have hurt Cora. So I’ve stayed close by and watched over her.”
A bittersweet ache pounded in Teryn’s chest. He was glad she’d chosen to watch over Cora, but at the same time, she deserved to move on. Even though she’d used her powers as a seer to channel vital information for Morkai—information that had led to countless tragedies at the mage’s hands—she was sorry for her role. Love had driven her actions, a blind and reckless love that Teryn could neither condone nor condemn.
Love was madness. Treacherous and beautiful all at once. It could start wars or end them. Could save a life or destroy it.
Emylia had experienced the darkest kind of love. Because of its invisible scars, even the peaceful embrace of the otherlife eluded her.
“How has Cora been?” he asked. “I know what she’s conveyed in her letters, but I worry she might be acting like she’s fine when she isn’t.”
“It has been hard for her,” Emylia said. “She doesn’t let her pain show around others.”
He couldn’t imagine how painful the last seven months had been for Cora. He’d been nervous to come back to Ridine, terrified over what memories his return might conjure, what new nightmares might await. Yet Cora had stayed the entire time. Stayed in a castle where a blood mage had terrorized her. Stayed in the last place she’d seen her brother alive.
He’d have stayed too, if the choice to leave for Dermaine Palace hadn’t been made for him while he’d been unwell. Ridine had still been in the process of being restaffed back then and hadn’t had the medical advancements Dermaine offered. Teryn would have suffered less adequate care if he’d been lucid enough to say so, but neither Cora nor Larylis had given him that choice. His healing had been too important to them. So he and Cora had been separated with nothing to connect them but letters. Cora couldn’t even use her special ability to visit him, for she needed to be familiar with a place to travel there. He’d worried she’d been suffering on her own, crowned queen in the wake of her brother’s death, surrounded by strangers yet again.
The only good that had come from the situation was that Cora had been able to take her crown on her own merit. Lords Kevan and Ulrich were gone, as was King Verdian, leaving no one to diminish Cora’s worth as queen, no one to say she couldn’t be her brother’s heir until after she’d married Teryn. She’d been sent new councilmen from Vera, ones selected by Larylis—and Teryn, once he’d been of sound mind—particularly for their loyalty and open-mindedness.
Still, it had to have been lonely. Painful. Teryn hated that he hadn’t been here. Hated that Cora hadn’t allowed him to come sooner.
But at least someone had been here to watch over her.
“Thank you,” he said, giving Emylia a deep nod. “Thank you for being here when I could not.”
Her lips curved in a sad smile. “I haven’t found a way to be helpful, but I hope there’s something I can do. Something that will allow me to make up for my sins.”
“Like what?”
“I don’t know, but perhaps the fact that you can see me will matter. I’ve already told you nearly everything I know about Darius, but perhaps there are other things I can recall. Other things I can discover.”
Teryn stiffened. King Darius was a constant source of dread for him, Cora, Larylis, and Mareleau—for everyone who knew the truth. Once Teryn had been well enough to speak and write, he’d conveyed what he’d learned from Emylia while he’d been trapped in the crystal, and Cora had done the same with what she’d learned in El’Ara. Together they’d painted a frightening landscape of possibilities. Only a handful of their most trusted advisors knew what they knew, but they were all of one mind—Darius was not a threat they could ignore.
“He’s still alive,” Emylia said. “I can’t see him, for I can only wander places I’ve been myself, either as a living being or as a spirit, but I’ve devoured all the information Cora has learned and tested it with my own knowledge. King Darius has ruled Syrus for five hundred years. Most assumeDariusis merely a naming convention passed down through heirs, but I know better than to hope that’s the truth. The current King Darius is the same man who sent his son to find information on El’Ara.”
Teryn nodded. He and Cora had surmised as much in their correspondence, but anything beyond that was guesswork. “Do you believe Morkai conveyed what he’d learned about Lela? About…Cora?”
Learning what Morkai had done to Cora—cursing her to never bear children during her lifetime—had nearly broken him. Morkai had done it to stop a prophecy from coming to fruition, one that predicted Cora would bear thetrue Morkara, the ruler of the fae realm. Should her child be born, the Veil separating the two worlds would tear, compromising the protective ward that had been forged to keep worldwalkers from entering El’Ara. But somehow, it would also put an end to Darius. According to the memories Emylia had shared with Teryn while they were in the crystal, Morkai had eventually abandoned Darius and had taken his father’s mission as his own, long before he uncovered Cora’s identity. Was there any hope that Morkai had never shared his later findings with Darius?
“I don’t know for certain,” Emylia said, “but I assume Morkai told him everything. If not while he was still alive, then upon his death. Even though Morkai abandoned his father after their falling out, I don’t think he’d let all his work go to waste.”
Teryn couldn’t help but agree. Morkai was nothing if not tenacious. If he’d been able to tether his soul to a crystal upon his death, he could have woven a spell that would deliver information to Darius under certain circumstances. And while he and his father sought separate goals—Morkai wanting to utilize fae magic in the human world, Darius aiming to return to El’Ara and rule there—their means were aligned.
Dread sank Teryn’s gut. It was too much to hope Darius didn’t know about Lela. Syrus’ recent dealings with Norun were proof that he was angling to get closer.
His only consolation was something he recalled from Emylia’s memories. According to Morkai, Darius was physically weak and couldn’t easily leave Syrus. He may be a worldwalker like Cora, but if his magic worked like hers, he couldn’t travel to a place he was unfamiliar with. Lela once been part of El’Ara, but after five hundred years, it couldn’t possibly resemble the place Darius had once lived. Even if it did, there was another condition Morkai had mentioned in Emylia’s memories: Darius was cursed to forget. He hadn’t even been capable of recalling the name of the realm he’d come from.
That wasn’t enough to make Teryn feel at ease.
“I’m sorry,” Emylia said, soundlessly rising to her feet from his trunk. “I shouldn’t make you talk about such dire topics.”
He shook his head. “It’s all right. We need to discuss these things, no matter how dreadful they are. And you will be able to help us. I’m sure of it.”
She smiled, and this time it looked genuine. “I must admit, talking to you has reminded me of my humanity. I’ve gotten too used to being invisible, but now that I know someone can see me, I’ll have to mind my manners. I really shouldn’t have spied on you and Cora. I won’t do it again. Not in…thatsort of scenario.”
