He laughed, a wet, wheezing sound. “And you almost succeeded.”
The words came out with a final breath, and Malkin fell still.
Almost? I looked to Caylus, but his jade-like eyes were only for Malkin. I spun, taking in Res, then Estrel, Samra, Kiva, Auma, even Elko, who’d cornered the last of the mercenaries. All here, all okay.
My eyes went toward the prison cells down below. “No.”
I bolted across the courtyard and down the stairs. The monks outside the building had gone to help in the fight, but two had remained behind inside. They lifted weapons as I bounded inside.
“Open the prince’s cell!” I ordered.
They didn’t hesitate. One slammed a key into the lock, wrenching the door open. My bow dropped to the ground with a clatter.
The cell was empty. A smoking hole gaped in the back wall. Malkin’s attack had been a distraction.
Ericen was gone.
* * *
Pandemonium flooded the grounds. Small groups of soldiers traversed every path, and monks slipped by in the shadows, searching every inch of the hill. They poured down into the city, lights filling the night sky like fireflies as they knocked on every door.
I left it all behind. Singed grass crunched underfoot as I curved around the edge of the outer building with Res at my side, the note I’d found in Ericen’s cell clutched in my hand. Its words replayed in my mind.
Thia dear,
I have a theory. Do you want to know what it is?
I think you care about my son.
I’ve witnessed what you’re willing to do for the ones you care for. Follow the instructions contained in this letter. Do it now. If you don’t, Ericen will die at sunrise.
I told you caring is a weakness.
Queen Razel
Armed with my black gold bow and arrows, Res and I made for the back of the palace compound. We slowed before a small, ornately gilded shrine, its walls painted a muted spring green. It rested in the center of a ring of stones that each weighed more than me and cast long shadows across the blackened garden surrounding them.
Razel had said this would be here.
Carved into the building’s dark wood door was a symbol I recognized fromSaints and Sellas: two straight, ridged horns, like notched spears, connected by a curve.
An aizel’s horns.
“Sellador,” I breathed. The lost Sella kingdom’s name felt like magic on my tongue.
I brushed my fingers over the carving. The world lurched. The shadowy greens and blues of the moonlit night flared into bright tones of emerald and sapphire beneath a noonday sun. Voices echoed, sharp and heated and familiar.
I turned, my head spinning, and the world teetered and blurred. Res was gone. In his place stood Estrel and my mother, so much younger than I remembered. They passed without seeing me, stopping before the shrine. The edges of their Corvé tattoos gleamed against their brown skin in the bright sunlight.
They were arguing about something, though their voices sounded like someone talking underwater. The vision shuddered as my mother’s fingers brushed the Sella symbol on the wood. Her fingers curled into a fist.
In a burst of light, the vision came apart at the seams. I stumbled, and Res let out a low cry as he appeared at my side, holding me steady. Air rushed into my lungs as I breathed quick and deep, trying to clear the last of the receding fuzziness from my head.
The vision had felt so real, just like the one I’d had the day I left Rhodaire, when I’d touched my mother’s headstone. Were they a result of the magic line we’d shared? Was our power connected?
“My mother,” I said breathlessly to Res. “She was here.”
Res rustled his wings, a thrum of reassurance pulsing down the bond, followed by a sense of urgency. I drew a sharp breath, straightening. He was right. Ericen was in danger. Still, I hesitated at the doorway, knowing I risked myself by doing this. Going after him was a gamble, but leaving him felt like letting Razel win. The only reason Ericen was in this mess was because he’d wanted to help me. If I left him behind, what kind of leader was I?
