Farrah and Elias looked ready to faint in relief as they realized that was all Cason knew. And if the two of them weren’t prepared to fight or defend her, it meant…
Brela glanced to Serill. He wasn’t going to say anything to Cason yet. At least, not here. And the kindness in his eyes… Serill understood.
She could have cried for that alone. For anotherfriendin this messed up world that seemed out to get her.
Her shoulders relaxed as her heart slowly dislodged from her throat. “They haven’t been successful in getting through, but King Raff is prepared for when it does.”
The prince chewed his lip. “Do you… do you think that’s what happened to you?”
She rubbed at the shard. “It’s possible, but I was too young to remember. None of the trials in the book I stole went as far as embedding the shards in skin. It’s all just grinding the obsidian and getting it in the blood system, but it only makes them sick. Fowke… he’d only been there a couple months and was barely hanging on.” She blinked, swallowing before turning to Elias. “I was hoping you could take a look at the ingredients and see if you could help me figure it out?”
“Of course,” he whispered, pressing his forehead to hers.
“Someone want to explain that?” Cason pointed over his shoulder at the fist-sized hole in the stone.
Farrah folded her arms. “Oni got a little upset about sending Brela into a camp with hellthorn.”Where they could have found out about her shadow magic and turned her into a worse experiment than Fowke.“He decided to take it out on a sleep-deprived and grumpy Elias.”
“Men,” Brela groaned, earning a small grin from Farrah. She shot the prince a wink. “Serill might be the only civil one among us.” Cason cleared his throat and gave her a pointed look. Brela just shrugged. “I meant what I said. You and I have done someveryuncivilized things. Shall I remind you of the other night when we got a little handsy while we were surrounded by eight dead bodies?”
“Sorry,what?” Farrah blurted.
“Only eight?” Elias said at the same time, both turning to her so fast, they missed the delightful pink that rose to Cason’s cheeks.
So began the more detailed explanation of their hellthorn-dazed escape, of the raiders that tried to take advantage of them in the middle of the night, and Cason’s well-executed distraction to keep her from impaling herself on an enemy sword. Elias looked impressed by Cason’s quick thinking. He’d even nodded toward the fire wielder in appreciation, which was about as good as it would get.
Elias, Farrah, and Serill had clearly practiced their recap of the events with Oni. Brela read through the lines, though. Oni was painfully predictable, and perhaps she’d underestimated how poorly he’d react to her going off to the camp. Maybe his overprotective behavior had something to do with the celvusa attack. Or maybe he had finally broken in guilt over the endless questions and unknowns that continued to pile on her shoulders.
As ifshehadn’t broken enough over the last few weeks, now she sat in front of a small grave, numb to the cruelty. Numb to the emotions. Numb to every crack and fissure that pierced her soul.
Charcoal in hand and chisel prepared, the stone slab stared back at her, ready to be marked. Waiting for the story of unnamed bones to be told.
How many of her people would never get this honor? Forever nameless, lost and forgotten wherever they landed?
No matter how few would be given respect in death, she could give some of them peace now. Elias had offered these men and women kindness by laying them to rest, and now she could send them on the rest of their way.
Brela didn’t know their story, nor did the shadows, but they still called to her. She felt them sing and change and grow, guiding her hand over the stone. It swirled and flowed and pulled her into a trance.
For an hour, she sat and traced the symbols, listening to the shadows around her. Feeling them as they pushed and tugged her fingers into patterns.
Even as they shifted behind her, alerting her of an observer, she didn’t break concentration.
“You don’t have to hide, Prince,” Brela mumbled, hand still gliding over the rock.
With the setting sun at his back, Serill stepped around the broken fence, hands in his pockets. “Not hiding, just—“
“Curious,” she finished for him. When he remained a cautious step away, she paused her drawing and looked toward him. “Are you afraid of me?”
Eyes locked on the stone in front of her, he answered without hesitation. “No.” After a pause, he met her gaze. “How did you know I was standing there?”
She smiled and gestured for him to join her. “The shadows told me.”
He sat in the space next to her, a position so similar to the one they’d shared on the couch in his library that first night. When she’d read him the children’s book. He’d looked so young then, but still incredibly poised. But here, after time in Valisea, she could see the change. Weathered slightly, but stronger. Taller. His chin was nearly always raised, exuding confidence and intelligence, but now there was a different awareness around him.
A king, wise for his years.
Serill sighed. “Not just the Scholar, but the Shadow Speaker.” Softened brown eyes met hers, flicking back and forth across her face. “I see it, now that I know what to look for. The subtle purple, not blue.” He let out a soft breath and nodded toward the stone. “If I’m not being disrespectful, would you explain that to me?”
Brela smiled and returned to her drawing. “Similar to other magic-blessed prayer rituals, I’m telling a story. Maybe not theirs, but one that would honor them.” She darkened a swirl of smoke. “It’s about the keepers of this hidden library, the ones I met when I was five. About their courage to defend this place and the knowledge of our people.” Brela followed another pattern. “It tells the story of a valiant stand against those who wished to erase us and our magic from the world.”
