Instead, I turned back to Estrel. A thousand words gathered in my throat. I had so many questions, so many things to tell her, that I didn’t know where to start. So I began at the beginning, telling her everything that had happened in Illucia. Except as I spoke, Estrel seemed to withdraw, curving away from me. She grew stiffer with each word I spoke, like an injured soldier waiting out the latest wave of pain.
When I reached the discovery of the other eggs, she went incredibly still, as if my words were a spell and even the shallowest breath would break it.
When I told her about Res’s other abilities, she nearly dropped the drink she’d been clutching like a lifeline. “All of them?”
“All of them. And it gets weirder.” I told her of Ericen’s claim about the Sellas. “Maybe it’s all connected,” I finished. “Res’s powers and the Sellas.”
“This has nothing to do with the Sellas,” Estrel replied sharply.
I’d expected her to deny the ancient creatures’ existence, to say they were gone, not confirm Ericen’s outlandish claim. From Samra’s expression, I had a feeling she’d known too. Ericen hadn’t lied to me. Somehow, the Sellas were still here, and for some reason, both Estrel and Samra had known.
It was yet another question, another secret, but I couldn’t bring myself to ask just yet. I thought I’d lost Estrel, and now that I had her back, I didn’t want to fight with her again. Because I knew I would. The hurt, the anger—they sat inside me like hot coals. There were so many things she’d kept from me, her survival most of all, and I was afraid of what she might say if I asked.
Some of those questions could wait. Others changed everything. So I forced the next words out between clenched teeth. “Ericen told me that Razel is working with the Sellas. Did you know that too?”
Estrel paled, her hand closing around her cup. “It sounds like the prince likes to talk about things he doesn’t understand. Ignore him, Thia. He’s lying.”
“Like you lied?” The words were out before I could bite them back.
Estrel recoiled, her lips pressing in a firm line. I waited, expecting her to explain, but she said nothing. She looked worn. Exhausted. As if the answers to my questions were weights too heavy to carry.
“Estrel’s right.” Samra cut through the tension between us, forcing the conversation back to Ericen. “Illucians lie. It’s what they do.”
“Why do you all keep saying that?” I threw up my hands. “He’s the only one who told me the truth about their existence. What good does lying about this do him?”
“It gains him your trust,” Kiva said, my raised voice having caught her attention. “It gains him you.”
Something about the way she said it made me momentarily unsteady. I gripped the edge of the table, centering myself. “And then what? He tricks me into traveling all the way back to Illucia and straight into Razel’s open arms? He’s a traitor!”
“Or he forces you,” Kiva said. “We don’t know that bounty isn’t a ploy. It’s exactly like something the Illucians would do. And if it isn’t, then delivering you to his mother would clear his name.”
I snorted harshly. “He could have taken me in the forest. He didn’t need to make up stories.” Stories that were apparently more than stories.
“But Razel has more pieces on this game board than we do, and we can’t let our guard down just because you refuse to see the darkness in someone,” Estrel said.
“I’ve seen it just fine,” I growled. “But there’s more to him than that.”
I had to believe that. I had to believe war would not be his legacy, as it would be his mother’s.
I had to believe there was hope for peace.
“Perhaps you can put that faith to use.” Auma leaned forward from a whispered conversation with a servant. “The prince claims he has important information, but he’ll only tell Princess Anthia.”
“No,” Kiva and Estrel said at the same time.
I stood. “Where is he?”
Auma rose on silent feet. “Follow me.”
* * *
Kiva insisted on coming. I expected Estrel to do the same, and though she eventually followed us, she’d looked hesitant to do so. I’d never known her to hesitate over anything.
I left Res in Caylus’s care, and we set off along a twisting cobblestone path that ended in a squat, rectangular building on a lower terrace. We entered a long hall with several closed iron doors across one face. Along the opposite wall, silent and still as hunting jungle cats, stood hooded Trendellan monks.
Trendell’s army wasn’t large, but it was incredibly capable. The monks were a small sect, raised as warriors and assassins from a young age. But where Illucians worshipped war and bloodshed, the monks approached mastering their skills as steps toward fulfillment. I’d been fascinated with them for years.
Auma led us to one of the closed doors. I frowned as Kiva crowded after me. “I’ll be fine,” I said.
