“Auma?” Kiva asked, her gaze jumping from one girl to the other. Mine followed, taking in the similarities I hadn’t noticed before. The slim oval faces and the slope of their noses. Their sharp, dark eyes and the way they both stood as if before a mountain they expected to move.
“You’re sisters,” I breathed.
Elko flashed a grin, but Auma regarded me warily. Beside her, Kiva retreated a step. Auma’s expression softened at the disbelief on Kiva’s face. “I intended to tell you tonight.”
Kiva shook her head. “I—Excuse me.” She turned, striding for the nearest door.
Auma started after her, then stopped, as if the action had slipped through her careful control.
“Kiva!” I called, but she was already gone. I wanted to go after her, but I couldn’t leave. Not until whatever this was had played itself out. Besides, she needed time. Forcing Kiva to face a problem immediately was a good way to make it explode.
Res?The crow was already moving, disappearing through the arched doorway Kiva had gone through.
Auma drew a slow breath and leveled Elko with an unreadable look.
“What? It is not my fault you had not told her yet,” Elko said.
Auma said nothing, but I got the impression she intended to have a long conversation with her sister later.
Saints.Her sister.
“What’s going on here?” I demanded. “I thought—” I hesitated.
“That my entire family was dead?” Elko asked. “Almost. As the heir, Auma was sent to Trendell at a young age for her protection when our parents began working to quell the civil war. She was raised here.”
I stared uncomprehendingly at Auma. At the crown princess of Jindae, who had endangered herself as a spy in the Illucian capital, subjecting herself to the cruelties of the woman who had taken everything from her—her home, her family, her future. I’d barely survived a few weeks with Razel.
Auma had withstood years.
She regarded me with an imperious gaze, as if she could read every conclusion I’d reached by my eyes alone.
“My sister says you’ve earned her respect,” Auma began. “You already had mine, but I agreed not to pledge Jin forces to your alliance unless my sister felt the same.”
Elko slung an arm across my shoulders, nearly knocking me off my feet. “You were right. She has spirit.”
Auma was silent long enough to make my stomach clench. Then she nodded. “Very well. Jindae will ally with Rhodaire.”
Twenty-One
I cradled a new hope inside me as I sought out Res. Auma and Elkona would support me in a second bid to form the alliance. Kiva had been right—this wasn’t over yet.
I reached along the bond. It thrummed back reassuringly, leading me back to the pavilion and down toward the plateau Res and I had trained on. I expected Kiva but found a different familiar voice.
A spark of fury cut through my rising mood. I paused just around the bend of the path, pressing into the shadow of the hill.
“It’s frightening when things are outside your control,” Estrel said softly to Res. Between the strands of long grass reaching down from the hill, I could just make out the curve of the crow’s feathers beside the scarred flesh of Estrel’s arm. “My life has felt out of my control for months.”
My nails dug into my palms. Out of her control? She’d chosen to leave Rhodaire. Chosen to leave me.
“Fear can do that to you.” Estrel’s voice was heavy. I opened my eyes. “I was afraid that when she saw me, she’d think me broken. And I was. I was supposed to be her strength. To be anything less in a time like that would have only hurt her more.”
I imagined the days I’d spent curled beneath my covers. What would I have done if I’d known Estrel was just as shattered, just as ruined? Seeing her the other night had nearly destroyed me. Would it have been the last weight that dragged me down beneath the depths?
Res let out a soft coo and nudged Estrel’s shoulder with the side of his beak.
“I know. I didn’t want to hurt her either. But I was wrong to leave and wrong to think she couldn’t handle it. We have to trust her to take care of herself. We owe her at least that.”
I swallowed against the warring emotions gathering in my throat. The pain that fueled my anger refused to fade, but Estrel’s voice, so full of guilt and longing, was familiar to me.
