The Grae U man’s shoulders slumped. “Our containment for the poison. It keeps breaking. The poison keeps changing, and we don’t have enough people to share the load. They know we can’t stop it from getting through. Not this time. Song might’ve had a plan, but she’s gone, and Avenor’s useless.”
The defeat in his voice made Calya’s blood run cold. She wasn’t a mage or a scholar or a journalist. The closest she’d ever been to the Eyllic poison was what she’d read about in the papers during the war, and that had ended years ago. She and Anadae had never discussed her more recent work with specifics, and besides, it took place up in the Valley. Calya’s personal dislike of the place aside, it had a way of conveying a feeling of safety. She only really knew of the poison from a business perspective, the danger and cost measured in aid provided by Helm Naval ships. For something like the poison and its aftermath to take root in Graelynd… it was too horrible for her to fully comprehend. Calya had always assumed the Coalition was at least a little corrupt, but never to this degree. Greedy, sure, but not reckless. Dangerous.
“Is there anything you can do?” she asked.
“The Coalition has the source,” Matthias said. “We might be able to slow the spread, but not forever.”
“Not without getting poisoned ourselves,” the older Vreshan woman whispered.
“That’s been their plan all along,” her younger countrywoman said. “Make this look like our fault and leave us here to rot.”
“My sister knows we’re here. Anadae Helm. She’ll come, and my Sentinel is here, and he’s already getting help as we speak.”
The others didn’t appear to share her confidence, but the words buoyed Calya. Anadae and Ezzyn would be sailing toward them already, and they knew far better than Calya what it took to stop the poison.
As for her Sentinel, the sentiment might not hold true anymore, but there was no doubting that Lowe would help. Even if he didn’t care for Graelynd, his morals had never been in question. Calya and the Sylveren mages wouldn’t be abandoned. She wouldn’t let herself entertain any other thought.
Further discussion was cut short by the sound of footsteps approaching the door. A scrape of metal against rock, and then the door groaned open, revealing Brint silhouetted in the doorframe. He clomped down the stairs, followed by a big, barrel-chested, unsmiling Graelynder who was the physical manifestation of everything Calya found repellent in men. What had Matthias called him? Ervin?
“Brint.” Calya struggled to her feet, ignoring the wave of nausea that came with the motion. Her pride revolted at the thought of letting him sneer over her, and if she managed to vomit on him, all the better.
“Oh, Caly. It doesn’t have to be this way,” Brint said, stopping in front of her.
Ervin glared at the mages, planting himself between Calya and the others.
She held up her bound hands to Brint. “I agree. Be a dear and do something about this.”
Brint laughed, the sound false and grating. “I’ve always liked your spirit, Caly. Now, be a good girl and tell me what I want to know, and I’ll see about making you more comfortable. Where is the ranger?”
“No idea. We aren’t partners.”
“Don’t waste my time. I know you’ve been poking around my business together.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m here for HNE.”
Brint leaned in, an ugly smile curling his lips. “Liar. You’re not much of a spy, Caly. I found you with Matthias’s notes, remember?”
She somehow managed to keep her face blank, though on the inside she winced.
“That was a nice trick with the window in my room, though. How’d you manage it? The ranger, I presume.”
Calya shrugged. “Maybe I’m better at spy shit than you think.”
Brint snorted. “Next time, don’t leave ash all over my floor.”
Well, fuck. Calya scowled at him.
“I’ll ask again. Where is the ranger?”
“I told you, I don’t know.”
“Don’t lie to me. I know Eren sold us out. He’ll be dealt with. What did the ranger do? Where is Ana and her pet prince? Who else knows about this place?”
Calya didn’t speak. It wasn’t even about refusal and being obstinate—there were only so many ways to say “I don’t know,” and Brint didn’t seem to be in a headspace to hear any of them. She was merely contemplating word choice when he took her by the shoulders and gave her a shake.
“Who fucking knows?—!”
Brint’s bellowing was accentuated by progressively more violent shakes, snapping Calya’s head back. Something cool and solid thumped against her chest, sliding up her skin until it popped up above the collar of her shirt.
