“It’s not that simple, Yarrow. Not everyone wants an answer to it, and I don’t have the luxury of being branded a traitor for trying.”
Her stomach dropped. Who in their right mind on Tarth wouldn’t want a better solution to mage burnout? So far, witchstone was the only answer, a way to contain excess arcanum, but she remembered an earlier mage’s complaint—that the new batches were dull and hardly up to standard. Still, what made Afton think he, of all people, could solve what even Iprix himself couldn’t?
“So, is that your grand plan? To pick through some books and then go back a hero?”
The corners of his lips twitched in amusement. “Is that any different than yours?”
Erinna scowled, hating that he was right. “This is the only option I have.”
He raised a brow in curiosity. “I have to say I’m impressed with you, though. Cominghere,of all places, for answers.” Afton said it like he was praising her bravery.
“Don’t pretend like you know why I’m here,” she shot back.
The mage held his hands up in mock surrender. “Oh, I’m certain you have a much better plan than riffling through some books.”
“This conversation is going nowhere,” she clipped, reaching for her bag, ready to find another place as far from Afton as possible.
“I am here to wave a white flag, Yarrow.” He gestured for Erinna to sit back down. She didn’t. She squared her shoulders, crossed her arms in defiance, but didn’t make a move to leave.
“There’s something else that brings you here. Spit it out plainly,” she said.
“Before Iprix was bedridden, he was looking into two things. The answer to mage burnout, and a way to remove curses.”
Erinna couldn’t stop the shock from rolling over her. She knew it was far too much of a coincidence, but to hear it confirmed by Afton was an entirely different story.
“You think they’re related?” She tried to make sense of it, but the two felt so far apart. How could the curse be related to burnout?
Afton shrugged. “Perhaps. Perhaps not. But the coincidence is far too close, don’t you think?”
Erinna was ready to snap at him again. The man liked to talk around his points, and it was growing old, quickly.
“What curse was he looking into?”
“What happened to you when he died?” The way he stared at her had her on edge.
She had enough. Erinna turned to leave, hands growing clammy, feeling the sudden shift in Afton’s attention—like she was some prized specimen to analyze. “We’re done here.”
Erinna would find answers on her own, or bargain with Kane for help. Both options were far more appealing than teaming with the Minor Apprentice.
Afton took a few steps back and held his hands up in surrender. “All right, all right. I’m just wondering if it would benefit the both of us to share any…related information. I think we could help each other?—”
“I’m not making any more deals.”
“No deals, just a friendly exchange of information.” There it was. The crack in his arrogance as the slightest hint ofdesperation squeezed through. Erinna didn’t know if it was the tone in his voice or the look in his eyes, but she could feel it. Afton, like her, was desperate for answers.
“I still don’t like you,” was her reply. Not a yes, not a no.
Afton laughed. “I don’t expect you to, but I’d be happy to help.”
“Why?”
Afton turned his gaze to the ground, kicking loose stone with the tip of his boot. “I owe your family a debt.”
Unease churned in her stomach. “What debt?” Until she washed up on the island, she’d never crossed paths with the Minor Apprentice or anyone from his inner circle.
“My mother is the King’s Eye.”
Her blood chilled. The king favored diviners—those who cooperated. The King’s Eye was a prized possession among his collection of reformed aberrants. A nameless woman who provided visions and prophecy for the king in exchange for her own life. But rumors had filtered beyond the castle that she was succumbing quickly to madness. It was just another form of burnout, unique to seers.
