“It’s just… It says that no ruling monarch, their consort, kin, or member of their court can slay an heir.”
“Right. So—” But she stops. Because she thinks she knows where Astrid is going with this. “Are you saying… Does this mean that someoneoutsidethe court can ‘slay’ us?”
“Well, yes,” Astrid says, “which is why they were saying it could be the rebels, but the point is—”
“It’s alright, Little Witch, I’m not as dumb as I look.” She rakes a hand through her hair. “It means that as long as it’s not them doing the actual slaying—”
“Can we use a different word other than ‘slay’?”
“Alright, but you started it.” She takes a breath, her insides fizzing with what feels like excitement. “It means that they can order someone outside the court to kill us. Is that right?”
Astrid hesitates, then nods. “I think so. Although, it’s a gray area. I can’t see how a ruler would want to risk the Heart—it doesn’t explicitly forbid the hiring of assassins, but it also doesn’t explicitlyallowit.”
“Yeah, well, the Vatran king isn’t exactly known for his sensible decision-making, is he?”
There’s a beat of silence between them as they process it. And, okay, it isn’t a firm answer. And Skylar supposes Astrid is right—it’s a big gamble. But maybe, for the king, the gamble would be worth it? After all, there is no Nachstern heir after Astrid, is there?
She twirls her pin between her fingers, thinking. Astrid follows the movement.
“The symbols,” Astrid asks, gesturing. “They mean anything?”
“Not as far as I know.”
Astrid nods, chewing her lip. Then, “We’ve got just over a week. Whoever has been trying to kill us—we just have to survive until then.” The irony—that they both have to survive, for one of them to kill the other.
“Yeah,” Skylar says, pushing that thought aside, “and I’d like to see someone go up against Bastet in the meantime.”
“Or you.”
“Yeah. Or me.” She wonders if Astrid knows that she’s been beneath her balcony, guarding her room whenever possible. If she does, she’s not throwing a hissy fit about it—which Skylar almost definitely would do if the roles were reversed.
Astrid brushes her fingers lightly over the date at the top of the scroll—1 EC. And then over the original two names, the first witch and dragon rider to start all this. Well, not their names, but their fingerprints. Set in blood.
“What is it?” Skylar asks.
Astrid looks up. “Nothing. Just thinking.”
“Hmm. Well, while you’re thinking, could you check to see if it says anything about where the Heart is in all that?” She gestures to the Covenant.
“Not that easy, I’m afraid.”
Skylar sighs. “?’Course not.”
“Why do you want to know where it is? You’ll find out soon enough.”
Skylar chooses to ignore that. She doesn’t want to think that far ahead. And she’s not sure she likes the way Astrid seems to havealready given up. Like losing Jessa broke the part of her that was determined to win.
“My friend,” Skylar says. “The one they took. He’s at the Heart.” Astrid stares at her, looking genuinely dumbfounded. “I found out at the ball,” she explains. “They’re taking some of the conscripts to the Heart—my friend included. I meant to tell you, but then…”
“Yeah,” Astrid says, her voice sad and quiet. “But then.” Skylar hates seeing the brief flicker of light that had come into Astrid’s eyes disappear again. Then Astrid squares her shoulders. “I’m sorry. I wish I could tell you where it is. But that’s what I’ve been trying to figure out, too.”
Skylar huffs an impatient breath. “You’re a witch. Can’t you do a spell to find it or something?”
“What, you don’t think any of the witch heirs over the centuries have tried that?” Skylar wrinkles her nose, as something in Astrid’s expression shifts. “But maybe…” Astrid bites her lip.
Skylar waits, but Astrid isn’t immediately forthcoming. “Maybe what, Astrid?”
“Well, there’s a chance we might be able to find your friend.”
