Images of a burning Andburgh, of all those beautiful white trees of the Ivory Forest stained black with soot, of the crisp rain and sandalwood scent marred with the noxious fumes of charred flesh, flashed through her mind. She felt for her bonds—all seven of them, alive and breathing and pulsing with magic. Two of them were brighter than the others, vibrating with their proximity. The other five trembled with life, but were markedly duller in comparison, strained and tenuous in the way they stretched from her mind.
She reached for one woven through with gold, one that felt like solid power and a lion’s gentleness. She cracked it open, falling through space.
Far away, at the other end of that bond, a consciousness brushed hers. Confused at first, then filled with sudden, brilliant elation and relief. “Mariah? Is that you?”
“Drystan.” Though she had no body here, she felt herself smile. “It’s good to hear your voice.”
“Gods, M—yours, too.” Drystan paused, and Mariah could feel that ever-present analytical part of him snap to attention. “What’s wrong? Has something happened?”
“I found the weapon.” There was no point in wasting words. “It’s my dagger. I had it all along.”
Silence. Feelings of shock, awe, and vicious excitement bled back to her. “When do we strike?”
“Now. Kol has burned Andburgh and moves for Verith. It’s time to leave Kreah; I need you all with me.”
There was another beat from Drystan. Mariah prickled at the unease washing from the bond. “There’s nothing that Feran, Trefor, and I want more than to leave this place,” Drystan said. “But…things are complicated at the moment. Strained. If we suddenly leave—all of us—then I’m afraid of what will happen to the Onitan refugees and members of the court who stay.”
“What do you mean things are complicated?”
She could feel his nervous shift. “The rebels. The coup. There’s more unrest every single day. Desva feels very much on the brink. It’s taking all our efforts, including Kiira and Rylla’s help, to keep everyone safe.”
Those fucking rebels. When would this world learn that the true enemy was far, far worse than a few hundred people in need of safety from the violence and destruction of war?
“Trefor had suggested,” Drystan continued, “that if you want us to join you, we could send the refugees back to Onita. Perhaps they could go south to Tolona, or even to?—”
“There is nowhere in Onita that’s safe for them. Not now. Not until Kol is destroyed.” Guilt and shame and anger swam through Mariah. She had allowed those people to stay in Kreah in the first place. Would that decision—one forced on her by an idiot god—be one that doomed her in the end?
“I’m sorry, Mariah,” Drystan murmured. “We want to help. And we will come. Now that you have what you need, we will do everything we can to get away as soon as possible. It just…may not be today.”
“I understand. Take care of our people.” She paused. “And take care of yourselves. I can’t lose you—any of you. Do you understand? Do not do anything to endanger yourselves. That’s an order.”
She could feel his affection and amusement. It warmed the spot beneath her chest that so often now felt cold. “I swear it, my queen. We will see you again soon.”
Mariah couldn’t bear to say goodbye. So, she pushed all the things she felt—all her grief and love and desperation and fear and rage—down the bond and retreated. She snapped the bond closed, snuffing out that warmth in her chest and settling back into herself.
One group down. Not exactly what she’d hoped for; she needed Drystan’s, Feran’s, and Trefor’s swords. But she understood their need to stay. It wasn’t just the refugees who were still in Kreah; it was Ryenne’s Ladies, Mikael the cook, Brie the seamstress.
Wex. Ellan.
Every person she cared for, every person who could be used against her, was in Kreah. Drystan was right to want to stay.
She reached for the bond of silver magic, crackling embers, and the wildness of the sea.
Unlike Drystan’s steady presence, Quentin’s consciousness slammed into her like a storm. Chaos burst through her mind, loud and urgent and desperate. It was madness, like being thrust onto a sinking ship, left to claw madly for a space to breathe.
He was fighting. Maybe. At the very least, he was heavily distracted, his mind split and clearly trying to hide his panic and annoyance from her. She kept her message brief: stay safe and get back to Onita as soon as he could.
With a final, “Fight well, Quentin,” Mariah flung her consciousness through space. She slammed back into her body with a gasp. The bond closed behind her, and she steadied herself in the mountain air, chest heaving with her breaths. A fine sheen of sweat dampened her brow, her magic flickering and flashing in her veins.
One more. One more bond to check. One that made her the most nervous, but that she also missed the most.
Sebastian knew by now what she’d asked of Ciana. Would he have forgiven her? Would he understand why she’d asked it, why it was so important? Or would the rift between them now be too deep to cross?
Gods, with all that she’d lost, she couldn’t lose him, too. Because if she did, she knew the only one to blame would be herself.
Mariah swallowed her fear and steeled her resolve. He’d done what she’d sent him to do. He and Ciana had given her the answer she’d been searching for. No matter how far apart they drifted, she knew she would always be able to rely on Sebastian.
Mariah opened the bond woven with golden magic and solid earth.
