Serill laughed to himself.Clearly, as if in just a short time Serill had learned how to read the emotions of a gods-damned crystal man filled with sand. What the hells was his life now?
“No, she’s not afraid of Cason,” Farrah finally replied.
He swallowed. “Does she even care about him?Canshe even care about him?”
Farrah and Elias had that same answer on their tongues, but Oni spoke faster. “Yes. I was not lying when I called them mates.” The sand sprite’s throat bobbed as Farrah glared at him. “Let me make this right.”
“You’ve done enough. Keep quiet until we give you permission to speak,” Farrah hissed. She looked back to Serill, calm settling over her features. “She is not playing games, Prince. That tug is real, and maybe it’s just their magic reacting, but for whatever reason, it’s not repelling. She does care about him, but Cason can never care for all of her. Not now…”
Serill let out a slow breath. “You’ve been feeling us out. Every time you told a story about her, about what she does and who she is, you wanted us to see the woman, not the magic.”
“Czaraw,” Oni whispered.
Clever. Possibly the only word Serill had learned.
Elias agreed, even though he shot a glare at Oni. “She would have told you… if it was just you. Cason still isn’t ready.” He rubbed at his jaw and a welt that was turning blue. “She’s always been skilled at finding the good in people. At offering her hand over and over, even if it puts herself at risk. And she will always fight for those who cannot fight for themselves—either as the Veil Scholar or the Night Terror, but always as Brela.”
That’s why she was willing to go to the Anfroy camp. Why she refused to back down once her mind was made up. To put herself in harm’s way—to walk into a hell that could kill her—and risk exposing her magic to Cason before he was ready.
For her people. For her family. For the other kingdoms who would rip her apart for what she was.
Serill lifted his chin. “Does this mean you have to kill me now?”
An amused smile tilted Farrah’s lips. “Do we need to?”
“I don’t care about her magic.”
“But would you tell Cason and put her in danger? Put them both in danger?” she asked.
“Cason is my friend. I don’t want to see him hurt.”
“Despite this secret, Brela doesn’t want to hurt him either.” Elias folded his arms. “She is trying to show him that she’s different, but… my question from earlier stands. Is he ever going to change?”
The prince bit his tongue.No. It would take a miracle for Cason to change his mind about shadow-kind—shadowmagic—and definitely not after Brela spent the last several weeks lying to him about a magic he believed was evil. The captain would see that omission as trickery.
Cason had already been furious that he’d fallen for her tricks as an assassin. For hiding her shadow magic? He would never be able to forgive her.
And he had wanted to ask her to go back to Aelstow with him.
Farrah rested a hand on Serill’s shoulder. “Those two need to figure it out on their own, okay? Right now”—she gestured to the sealed letters—“we have more important matters.” When Serill nodded, she pointed a glare at Oni. “Now you may speak, Oni, but you’re on thin ice.”
So Serill gave him instructions to get into the castle. Where to leave the letters and make sure the king and Boelyn got them. How to get out safely.
He could only hope that his father would act on the information before he met them in Rooke with Brela’s money.
Ten days. Ten days until all of this would be over. Brela would get her freedom and they would part ways.
Except Serill didn’t want to part ways. He’d wanted to set all the kingdoms on fire, and that opportunity was right in front of him. Not just a relationship with the sand sprites, but with the Veil Worshippers. With a woman who possessed shadow magic, a water wielder, and a strength-blessed man who could actually make a difference in this world. Who might stand a chance at stopping Anfroy from unleashing shadow hell.
He rubbed his temples as the details of Oni’s plan were established, wishing the sand sprite had kept his mouth shut and anger in check. Conflicting emotions ran wild. Understanding for Brela’s need for secrecy. Frustration for the position he was now in. Heartbreak for his friend who was just as caught in the middle as he was, whose heart was just as exposed. Terror for Cason’s safety, Brela’s safety, his own safety.
“I am sorry.” Oni’s gravelly whisper pulled his attention back to the present. The sand sprite glanced between them. “Brela trusted me with her secrets, and I have failed her.”
Farrah—reclined against the wall with her feet propped on her bags—lifted her head. “Now that we don’t have to keep them,” she mumbled, “any luck finding answers?”
“Answers to what?” Serill asked. “Her power? Or why the celvusa is following her?”
“It was following her magic, but also because it figured out what she is,” Elias grunted.
