“Did she feel the tracking?”
Casimya’s expression turned grim. “Yes. She knows someone found her. She will be wary. Possibly hostile.”
That was the last thing I heard clearly before my legs gave out. The world tilted sideways and I had the distant sensation of falling, of the floor rushing up to meet me.
But Mal was faster.
His arms caught me before I hit the ground, and then I was being lifted, cradled against his chest like I weighed nothing at all.
“I have you,” he said, worry threading through his voice.
“I can walk,” I protested weakly, though the words came out slurred and unconvincing even to my own ears.
“I know. I am carrying you anyway.”
“Stubborn wolf.”
People probably stared as he carried me through the castle corridors, gossiping about the queen being hauled around like a damsel in distress. I was too spent to care about anything except the warm comfort of being held, the steady beat of his heart against my cheek.
Then the softness of our bed beneath me, the pillow under my head. Mal sat beside me, his hand brushing hair from my sweaty forehead.
“Do you think she’ll help us?” I asked, my eyes already closing.
“Anyone who meets you sees how incredible you are.”
“You’re biased.”
“Completely.”
I managed a weak laugh. “We found her though.”
“We did. Rest now. I’ll look after you.”
I fell asleep still holding his hand, knowing we’d found our first real lead.
12
— • —
Mal
The council meeting was supposed to be routine. Internal affairs only. A quick discussion about the Igryside threat and our plan to find Tyreen.
It was not routine.
A day later after the spell and only because Wen insisted she was fine already, which I knew she was not, I entered the council chamber with her at my side, our hands linked. We took our seats at the head of the table, side by side. The councilors stood and bowed before settling back into their chairs. Most looked respectful, attentive. A few looked curious about why we’d called this emergency meeting.
“We have a plan to address the Igryside threat,” I began, keeping my voice level and authoritative.
Wen leaned forward slightly, commanding attention. “We know they’re hunting my family specifically. Our son and me.”
One of the older councilors, Lord Harwick, frowned. “What do you propose, Your Majesties?”
“We found someone who might have information,” Wen said. “Tyreen, from my family’s old coven. She knew my grandparents. She would know how they managed to fight enemies, might know how to fight Igryside, what strategies worked.”
Lord Petran’s lip curled slightly. “More witches? Is this wise?”
My jaw tightened but I kept my voice calm. “We trust Casimya. We will trust Tyreen.”
