Trisha forced herself to relax; she hadn’t missed his smarmy undertones.
“You set your hopes too high. But what else can I expect from someone who wastes his time tormenting those beneath him?” She lifted her flute to her lips. “Perhaps another tune will bring Rilka to me while driving you away. Didn’t you say its sound is pure torture?”
The serpent scoffed, coiling his scaled body to fix her with a withering look. “Play all you like, Trisha, but take this advice: Rilka has yet to master a new skill. And as you might guess, flying with one wing takes practice.”
Oh. Careless, brave Rilka—betting such a thing against Shi’as. Sadness enveloped Trisha, but she dared not display it. She lowered the flute, simply shaking her head in detest. “And what would you even do with one wing, Shi’as? It’s far too small for your use.”
“She annoyed me,” Shi’as replied, head held up.
“And that is reason enough, I guess,” Trisha sighed. “Silly of me to even ask.”
That seemed to rekindle his good mood. His mouth curved far back, revealing a row of sharp teeth. “Such a clever little mortal, almost enough to distract me. But our bargain still needs to be concluded.”
“Be mindful, Shi’as, or you’ll make me think that you’re curious,” Trisha snapped. “You’ve still to let me know what you consider a suitable secret, and I’m not telling you anything before you answer.”
His white scales shivered, a snake’s equivalent of a shrug. “Very well, Trisha. Tell me something I don’t know, and I’ll consider my latest lesson paid for. One chance.”
“That’s hardly sufficient,” Trisha said sourly. “How am I to know what you don’t know?” She squinted in suspicion. “Are you trying to trick me?”
“Once again, you see straight through me.” Shi’as’ laughed. The ground rumbled under Trisha’s feet. “You’ve quite unarmed me, mortal. How can I match your wit?” He flicked his tail, his eerie yellow eyes glowing in golden light. “But very well. If you insist. I smell the salt on your skin, the bleach of sun. I taste the remnants of the ancient land in your breath. Are you in the north?”
Trisha’s fingers locked around her flute, but she didn’t move. Why did it matter to him?
“I’m waiting,” Shi’as hissed, and his scales rippled as he slithered.
Dread climbed up her back. Trisha couldn’t risk any more delays, not when she was expected back at Moorhafen so soon. She could only imagine the questions, Blainor’s suspicious look, and the Warlord finding yet another reason to probe into her past and secrets.
Perhaps there was use in letting him know.
“If you insist,” she said. “I’ve taken up a position in Eichlandt to play as the Warlord’s Bard.”
“You don’t say…” Shi’as’ black tongue flicked out. “Very good, Trisha.”
“Good?”
“Seven years is not long for an immortal, but you don’t have the same luxury as I do.” Something wily glimmered in the depth of Shi’as’ glowing slits, and before she could control herself, the question escaped her.
“What do you mean?”
“Nothing.”
Trisha stood still, mind racing. Shi’as had all but confirmed what she already knew. But if there were a way to trick him, she might get another hint, another clue. She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, willing her tone casual.
“I’m unsure if I will stay.” Trisha cleared her throat. “Actually, I might leave before winter.”
Shi’as didn’t react at first, not clearly, but his body stilled, his eyes glowing brighter.
Trisha waited, heart pounding.
“And why would you do that, child?”
So, he couldn’t resist the bait. She kept her expression schooled. “The Warlord sees through my magic.” Admitting it made her want to grind her teeth, but she had to be truthful if she were to make Shi’as offer her more.
“He must be driving you mad, seeing through your little illusions,” Shi’as purred. “But if you want my advice, don’t leave. Not yet. Even when this mortal Warlord’s resistance unsettles you, how he sees more than you wish to reveal.” He paused, closing his eyes, chuckling in a dark, low voice. “And I can see now how it does…” Shi’as opened his eyes, something ancient swirling in his golden gaze. “What a dilemma you face. To stay in his court and risk this Warlord unraveling you. If you don’t, you might never find out the truth about your parents. And why they gave you to us.”
“He’s not going to unravel me,” Trisha declared.
Shi’as grinned. “Go ahead and lie to yourself. You’re so adept at it. But I know what stirs your heart. And they still wait for you, your answers, buried under the frost and ice. A song forgotten, nearly gone now. If you leave, you will never rouse them.”
