“And she knows who Ione is?”
“Yes.”
“And – then she left.”
Ione rubbed her temples, exhausted.“I’m so glad you were paying attention, River.”
Cynthia hung her head back.“Yeah, whatever breakdown you’re working towards, go ahead and hurry it up.It’s Ione’s day today.”
Ione raised her teacup, joyless.
River hesitated a beat longer before murmuring, his voice small, “Lina is a Moth.”
The air droned as River launched into the story of it, of witnessing Lina using pyromancy, of her and River fending Nalu off of Kai, of Kai agreeing to keep her secret in exchange for knowledge.Cynthia had questions, wanted quotes and timestamps, but Ione merely stared into her teacup, listening but not, her skull full of cotton.Light glanced off the rim of her cup, catching her attention and holding.Her eyes burned.
Lina, a pyromancer.
Lina, who knew her schedule, her associations, her home, her life.
Lina, who was gone.
The thud of a hand against the table and the rattle of teaware woke her up.“And when were you planning on sharing this with the rest of the class?”Cynthia demanded.
River steepled his fingers.“It was a ‘the fewer people know, the better’ situation.”
“That isasinine.”Cynthia shot to her feet, pointing at him.“Your duty was to your goddess, River.For gods’ sakes, keeping this a secret has put her life in danger now.”
Panic rattled up her spine.“No,” Ione said hastily.“She wouldn’t – that can’t be the reason she left.”She rolled up the sleeves of her dress, tapped her wrists.“Her burns.Someone had burned her.She – she was hiding from them, afraid of them.”
River and Cynthia exchanged cynical looks.“She said she was burned escaping Soliz,” he mused.“But given her sudden disappearance from the safest place in the country, we can’t be sure her story is true.”
“But – ” She felt like a child, insistent.“She – she told you about Soliz.And the priests there.It was useful?”
Cynthia tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.“If the alternative was being given to Saros, she would’ve said anything.”
“And we don’t know what all she could’ve held back,” River agreed.
Ione’s eyes fell to her wrists as a deep cold dread filled her.Lina had been afraid of a man – maybe a lover, a fellow pyromancer.Perhaps a man who died in Saros’s raid on Hearthstone.Lina had been eager to hear about the attack, had stood before Saros himself to ask.With him gone, she felt safe to return.
But only after Ione had so stupidly given so much of herself to her.
The dread stretched through her, ice frosting over each vein, settling in each organ.She tallied her emotions, boxed them neatly away.There, the dizziness with each breath: fear.There, the chill gripping her heart: hurt.There, the scorching tears welling in her eyes: anger.
In the midst of it all, she could not find Menon.The woman remaining was nothing, a shell.
Powerless.
She summoned breath, drew what little strength she could from it.“Where is the warden?”
River dithered before replying, “In Llyr’s quarters.”
“Why?”Cynthia asked, and River grumbled and waved her off.
“Idon’t know, it’s not like we’re talking.”
Ione stood, her chair skidding against the floor and shutting them both up.“I need air,” she said, spinning on her heels before they could argue.“Neither of you follow.”
Ione halted in the doorway to Llyr’s apartment, the emptiness of the room stunning her.Aside from the occasional maid coming in to dust, only she and Saros would use the space, she, to read; Saros, to do whatever he did in his spare time.The grand rooms were picked clean now, Llyr’s old journals and spellbooks gone from the shelves, most of the furniture removed.She’d heard that Saros had ordered a suite to be built and furnished for himself in Caelos, but to see the Great Sage’s rooms reduced to such a barren state jarred her.
