Kaelan stepped around Magda to join Honey in inspecting the portrait. Magda’s gaze drifted over to the doors leading into the library, losing herself to the memories.
Flor plucked at Magda’s chin. “You and I have both been in exile.” She put her arm through Magda’s and steered her around, forcing her before the portrait.
Tears pricked Magda’s eyes. It had been so long since she’d seen Caden’s face. Those downturned silver eyes gleamed under his black-hooded brow. The slight smile on his pouty lips suggested he was thinking of something wildly inappropriate, plotting. The thick waves of his black hair were bound back, but in life, they’d always been coming loose, the traditional braids and clips unable to restrain them.
“He was fourteen. We had one done every year for his birthday,” Flor said, voice choking. “He hated it, all that sitting.” Flor laughed, covering her mouth with slightly trembling fingers as she gazed up at Caden’s last portrait.
“The trick for you,” Flor said to Kaelan, shaking back her own unrestrained locks, “will be to age him. He would be twenty-nine now.”
An image flashed in Magda’s head of a twenty-nine-year-old Caden. How darkly beautiful and seductive he would’ve been, how broad-shouldered and well-muscled. While all Princes underwent some degree of training, both of Caden’s parents had been warriors and had raised him more as a warrior than a Prince. He would’ve been like his father, but leaner and taller.
“He’s shown you,” Honey said, startling Magda from her reverie.
“Did my Cae say something?” Flor asked.
“He’s shown Magda what he looks like,” Honey said to Flor. “Those who have crossed to the Godlands continue to age if they are young, or return to their prime, if they were old. Those who choose to remain that is.”
Magda was about to question Honey further, but Flor stepped before her.
“Did you see him?”
Kaelan and Damion eyed her as if worried she’d caught the same ghoul-curse as Honey.
“I saw... something,” Magda admitted. “I was just imagining what he would look like now.”
“No, he showed you,” Honey insisted.
Flor beamed, clasping Magda’s face in her hands. “He wants you to succeed. If he had been there with you that day against Alanna, you would not have lost. You would not have been exiled. You would have been Radiant all these years, just as your mother and I always intended.”
“What do we need to do?” Magda said to her.
Flor tapped her softly on the cheek. “Too much. And we have too little time.” She raised an eyebrow at Hero, as if only just noticing him. Her cheeks sucked in, but whatever she was thinking, she didn’t share it. Instead, she turned to Damion.
“I need you to go to your uncle’s up on the bluff.” She reached into the pocket of her long coat, cut away at her waist to show the fitted trousers of a warrior. Holding out a letter to Damion, she said, “Give him this and tell him if he does not follow my instructions to the letter I will sneak up on him like I used to when we were children. Only this time I won’t pour cold water down the back of his pants, I’ll slit his throat.”
Damion took the letter. “Now? Do you have a horse?”
“There are some very large mice in the stables, perhaps you could ride one of them, you lazy pisspot,” Flor barked. “Is this what they call a warrior in your generation?”
“I can take you on Anqa,” Honey offered.
Flor sputtered. “But . . . we’ll need you here.”
Honey shook her head. “Cae says you have enough work. And if we fly, we’ll return well before nightfall.”
Flor frowned. “I suppose then . . .”
Honey started towards the door.
“Um, Honey, would you take Hero with you?” Magda asked, lifting Hero off of her shoulder.
“If you wish,” the nymph said, “but why?”
Magda scraped her lip with her teeth.Why don’t you ask Cae?she thought.
“He’s grown quite fond of flying,” she lied.
Hero much preferred to have his paws on the ground and the little black glare she received reminded her as much, but she knew he would do this for her.
