Saurin does not seem offended. "My parents were miners from Yorali. Commoners. Their magic was simple and much of it passed to me." She draws in a breath. "But I was born with something else. Visaria."
Colsar exhales. "I was told Yorali's king exterminated them."
"He tried," she says. "When the hunts began my parents fled and we settled in one of the border villages.”
"What is a Visaria?" I ask.
"We see what lies beneath." She considers the question further before continuing. "I can see the truth of power. What something is. What it pretends to be. How strong it truly is. I can see when someone is hiding something, a power, an identity, something they should not be."
My mind pulls back to Hurstinal, to the way he had been at the end, to whatever had been looking out through his mangled eyes our last night in Alarna, wearing his face and moving through his body.
I come back to the room.
"That made Yorali paranoid," Saurin continues, her voice unchanged. "They are known for deception and Visaria could expose it. Other kingdoms would claim to offer safety and in truth would enslave us for their courts." Her eyes move briefly to the children. "I will not use my gift to help kings gain power over other kings. But I will use it to protect them."
I look at her for a long moment and then meet her eyes fully. "Before you agree you should know there will be danger. A great deal of it."
She does not hesitate. "I do not care," she says simply. "There is danger everywhere. At least here, the company is pleasant."
We laugh lightly, then the room falls into a comfortable quiet. Colsar shifts slightly, the children still against him, the fire burning low in the corner, and something new begins to form between the three of us that has nothing to do with survival and everything to do with what comes after it.
CHAPTER 48
Preparations
Sleep does not last long. I wake to movement above, footsteps, more than before, and Colsar is already awake beside me. He has not moved far. Both children lie against his chest, one along each side, their small bodies rising and falling with his breath, his arm around them, one hand still resting against my back.
A figure with silver hair and a young face appears at the top of the stair. He comes down and stops when he sees the children, alive and healthy against Colsar's chest, and something moves through his expression that he does not try to contain.
"They live."
"They do," Colsar says.
Arabar inclines his head toward me. “I am Arabar, the Fyrekin’s Sentinel. To finally meet you is an honor."
I reach inward before I answer, letting my intunar move toward him, finding nothing turned against us, nothing hidden that threatens the children, only purpose, loyalty, and a devotion so complete it feels almost ancient.
I relax, and smile once. "Then I am glad to meet you."
He sets the packs down beside the bed, then looks to Colsar. "Your things. They were left outside in the chaos. I retrieved what I could."
Colsar looks at them briefly. "Thank you."
"We scouted ahead," Arabar continues. "The Avanki forces are headed this way. They are not far."
"Good." Colsar adjusts the children against him. "Are you able to get a message to the Sovereign of Shalvar?"
Something like pride moves through Arabar's posture. "I am."
"Then listen carefully." The room quiets around the words. "Tell him my children have been born. Tell him my wife requires safety and time to recover. For now the children and their presence must remain secret." A pause. "We have troops with us. They will need accommodations. Tell him we require use of the hidden kingdom in haste and to begin preparing it."
Arabar's eyes lift slightly at that. "It will be done."
"Go," Colsar says.
Arabar turns and leaves and the room quiets again around everything that remains in it. Shalvar. A hidden kingdom. Recovery and politics and children who must be kept from the world for as long as we can manage it. The weight of all of it presses in and I let it, because it has a direction now, and a direction is something I can hold onto.
My eyes grow heavy. The warmth of the room and the rhythm of the children breathing against Colsar's chest pull at me fromsomewhere deeper than thought. I let my head sink back, and sleep finds me before I can think to resist it.
