“An elemental to your core.” Veyka’s small smile faded. She turned back to assessing her weapons. “I will be back in a few days.”
Cyara watched as she unsheathed the rapiers, examining the blades. “I can manage Percival and Diana without Lyrena. Though if it will make you feel better, I shall ask Osheen to look in periodically.”
“I am not taking Lyrena with me.”
Despite what her queen thought, Cyara was not actually able to predict her every move. “Veyka—”
“If I have not returned in three days, you can send Arran and Lyrena and the rest of them to retrieve me from the Spine. But until then, tell no one where I have gone.” Veyka began repacking her blades. She would not linger long, then.
Cyara knew it was a useless appeal, but she made it anyway. “Please, do not do this.”
“Cyara,” Veyka paused, offering a grim smile over her shoulder. “You know better than most that sometimes, the darkness must be faced alone.”
The harpy.
Yes, Cyara had been alone when that dark monster inside of her awakened for the first time. She had carried the secret of what she was—what Gawayn had made her by slaughtering her sisters—as a lone burden for as long as she could. Until Maisri was in danger, when the harpy had clawed her way out.
“Be careful, Veyka,” Cyara finally said.
Veyka’s smile was nowhere in sight as she nodded sharply. “Be ready to leave when I return.”
84
VEYKA
“Lady Elayne to see you, Your Majesty.”
I had almost made it. Another five minutes, and I’d have been gone. I’d paused long enough to eat the stew that Cyara had kept warm and waiting all night long. It just seemed rude to let her effort be for nothing. There was so little she could do to help; that anyone could. So, I’d forced down the stew even though my stomach was in knots. And delayed my departure long enough that I had to lay aside the satchel—a smaller version of the travel pack—and meet my mother-in-law.
Elayne swept into the room, graceful as ever. Cyara’s eyes traced over me from head to foot, as if she were trying to memorize me. As if part of her thought I might not come back.
I’d kept my plans to myself, but running was not part of them. I’d given up on that foolish hope back in Baylaur, after the Tower of Myda.
There was nowhere I could run to escape my heartbreak.
“Thank you, Cyara,” I said. “I will speak to you soon. I am certain you have preparations well under way.”
My handmaiden narrowed her eyes, but did not ask me to stay or try to change my mind before she withdrew to the sitting room.
I did not do Elayne the dishonor of dissembling. I faced her directly. The time for anything less had passed. “What is it?”
“You are leaving,” Elayne said with equal candor.
She’d come through the sitting room, where Cyara was already gathering their things. “Not for a few days.”
Elayne shook her head slowly. “Youare leaving.”
She had either spoken to Arran, or made a good guess. It had to be that—the sorry state of my soul could not be that painfully visible. “I did not realize I was so transparent.”
I waited for the arguments. Instead, Elayne came to stand beside me. I was wrapping traveling cakes. Each in a layer of thin linen, then stacked five high, then wrapped again in a thicker swatch before stowing them in a pouch. I doubted I’d need them all before I returned, but it was better than being hungry. I doubted there would be much hunting where I was headed.
Elayne watched me wrap one, then nudged my hands aside and took over the mundane task herself. I checked over my weapons one last time.
“I do not know much about the mating bond. Only the legends that we have all heard.” Elayne said as she worked. “Once, I fancied that Pant and I enjoyed such a connection.” She let out a soft, breathy laugh.
The image of Pant, the Lord of Eilean Gayl, with Lady Sylestria spread across his lap at Yule came back to me, sharp as if I’d seen it yesterday. Not my heartbreak. But real.
“How do you manage?”
