Liora’s answering smile didn’t reach her eyes.
She shifted in her seat, then bent over to pick up a piece of trash that had stuck to her muddied boot. Concern flashed briefly before she crumpled it in her hands.
My suspicion roused at her response to whatever she’d seen. Before I could inquire, she yawned, then stood, discreetly scanning the tavern’s patrons. “I’m going to clean up.”
I wanted to follow, but relented. As much as I wanted to invade her space, she probably needed a moment to sort through the last few days. Bowen and I remained downstairs, planning our trip back to Yarit to meet up with Finn and Xuri. Travelers and locals shuffled in from the increasingly violent blizzard to grab a meal, or warm up with a cup of ale. Evander returned and Bowen engaged him with numerous questions related to his craft.
I politely remained at the table, but couldn’t focus on their words, needing to check in with Liora. I grabbed my vial of tonic and ascended the stairs two at a time.
Chapter Thirty-Five
THE SPY
Our attic space seemed small due to the sloped angles of the roof. The bed was large enough for two. If two people lay like sardines. A table and two chairs were positioned in the back corner of the room, near a frosted window. A small fireplace at the end of the bed released just enough heat to combat the chill creeping in from the outside.
I pulled out the piece of paper that had crunched beneath my boot in the tavern. The words leapt off the page, punching me in my gut. It was a recruitment poster for dreki. Nolan was spreading his tentacles to the furthest reaches of the realms in an effort to create more scaled fighters. That meant some were already here.
I startled at the knock on the door. A young boy brought two buckets of steaming water; apparently the pipes didn’t make it to the attic floor. I shoved my unease about the dreki aside. Two trips later, the tub was filled and I stepped in the bath, luxuriating in the warmth. My muscles eased as I used the jasmine-scented soap to clean my hair and body, careful to wash around the gash on my thigh. It was deep, but it wasn’t infected.
The walls of my world were closing in around me. I wanted to make sure Dom could find his cure, and apparently, I was theforetold guide. I needed to get Delah out of Haluma before she became a Vestal Anchor.
Water sloshed up the sides of the tub with my anxious movement. Nolan would not stop hunting me until he found me. The truth of that broke something within me. I would never get away from who I was before. I put everyone around me at risk. Whatever future I’d envisioned crumbled. I would do what I could to give the Liberation the best chance at defeating the king. I would do whatever it took to protect my general.
I leaned back in the tub, submerging my face beneath the surface. The dull fuzziness of sound did nothing to mute my grief. I exited once the water had dropped to an uncomfortable chill.
The soft shirt and loose pants provided by the inn marked a refreshing change from the cold restraint of my leathers. I fished around in my satchel for a cherry candy, grateful I thought to protect them with my magic while visiting the Nereids.
As usual, focusing on the texture and burst of juicy flavor served to anchor me and still my thrumming heart as I thought about next steps, including the most immediate one: sharing a room with Dom. My jumbled mind raced with conflicting thoughts and desires, fears and hopes. Once I had Dom’s cure secured, I could get Delah out. I didn’t want to think about what might happen after that. But I understood what was required of me.
The door to the room opened and Dom entered, sniffing at the air. He subtly stiffened as he eyed me, then quickly turned away. The same boy arrived behind him to replace the water in the tub.
“If it’s alright with you, I’d prefer to be clean before falling asleep tonight. I’ll keep the door shut.” I nodded, fighting back a vision of Dom’s chiseled abs. He half turned toward me, hesitant. “There was a small selection of books downstairs. Ithought maybe you would enjoy reading one on”—he held the book up to read the title—“Legends of the Gods.” He shifted on his feet, seemingly nervous. “Or I can take it back.”
“No. It’s great.” I reached for it as he offered it to me, stifling my grin.
“Good. Good,” he mumbled. Then quickly shut himself into the bathroom.
My smile refused to be restrained as I curled up on the bed in a nest of sheets and blankets, settling in to read the first few pages. The whisper of clothing being removed and splash of water brought awareness to my body. I closed my eyes to drown out the effects such sounds had on me. This was going to be a long night.
I turned the pages, most of the sentences breezing through me as I attempted to refocus on the words in front of me. It was a story about the beginning of all things, how an ancient god punished his second-in-command for trying to take the god’s power for himself. My nerves buzzed as the words “Astral” and “Nokt” jumped off of the page. All noise fell away as I leaned closer, greedily reading every bit of lore. In all stories there are grains of truth, even if cloaked in embellished myth.
The story went on to describe Astrals as heavenly creatures, whereas Nokts were borne of darkness. Each type of being had a base magic, and each had the ability to attain a higher magic. I reclined among the pillows as the words sank in. Questions billowed forth like the blossoming sails of an armada. I turned page after page.
It discussed how no magic could survive in its host without a link—it must always be fed. The importance of a consistent source in order to maintain higher magic was a non-negotiable. I knew that when magic was wielded now, it had to be reabsorbed somehow; otherwise, it would drain the wielder, the source being the wielder’s own body.
Basic magic was linked to physical organs or bodily processes. The energy from the wielder fed the power used. It was essentially a process of recycling the magic. The book described how when the use of sound went unreplenished, then hearing loss ensued, my own water magic caused dehydration, prophesy led to memory loss, and land manipulation resulted in vertigo and confusion.
These were common understandings that all people knew about. But I had never heard of higher magics. Did that even exist anymore?
My reading sped up in my excitement, devouring the words. With higher magic, a living source is required. Acouerdiae. I paused at the phrase, clearly derived from the gods’ ancient language. I had never heard of it before, but it resonated as my own water magic zipped inside me.
Acouerdiae, the book described, was a bond made in blood. The bond becomes the source of the higher magic. If a bond does not exist, or is broken, there is no source to prevent the body from being drained from higher magic’s use, leading to an agonizing death. Higher magic cannot exist apart from its source. The question was, could one access higher magic now? And if so, then how do you establish a bond?
A creak of the bathroom door and a spill of light interrupted my thoughts. Dom stood in the doorway, a towel slung low on his waist. One hand held the towel as the other slicked back his damp hair from his molten eyes. “Did that boy return with some clothes for me?”
My cheeks flushed as I tried unsuccessfully to look away. My mouth opened, then closed, suddenly dry. I took a breath and tried again. “He did not. I can go find some.” I jumped up right as Bowen knocked on our door.
Dom called from behind me, “Bowen, could you grab a change of clothes for me from downstairs?”
