“Let’s say all of this is true,” I reply, mouth dry. “How can we be sure your intentions are any better?”
She steps closer, then kneels before me, bracing her hands on either side of the chair. The fire in her eyes is catching, and in my chest a long-dead ember flares to life.
“I will swear an oath to you,” she says evenly. “My people and I want nothing more than to restore the sky, not for ourselves but for the kingdom. We would never take the magic for our own.”
“Oaths mean nothing,” I say. “Actions mean everything.”
“She’s right,” Taliesin cuts in. “We’ll consider helping you, but you’ll release us and remove the iron bands first.”
Rhian turns to him with a frown. “The moment we do, you’ll turn us to ice. I’ve seen what happens to those who cross you.”
He laughs softly. “Then perhaps you shouldn’t have crossed me.”
A heartbeat passes before she answers. “We offered you assurance. Now it’s your turn.”
“See, that’s where you’re wrong.” Taliesin leans back, arms folded, one leg draped over the other. If not for the iron rope wrapped around his middle, one might think he was the Penderyn in command. There’s something about him…something that radiates authority, drawing every eye in the room.
Everyone but Rhian. She seems untouched by fear and awe. “And how is that?”
“You ask for assurance as if I haven’t already given it to you. I could have stopped you back at the cave. You know that. I came because I oppose the Order. I won’t see them take the stars again.”
I suck in a sharp breath. “Again?”
Rhian nods, her gaze softening with something like sympathy. “They did it once before, when the stars first died. In fact, they’re the reason it happened. They used the harp to attempt full control over the stars’ power. Whatever they did, it backfired horribly.” She pauses. “On them. And on the rest of the world.”
The world tilts beneath me.
“Which is why I would never let it happen again,” Taliesin says.
“And her?” Rhian gestures over her shoulder toward me.
“The Order took her freedom, and they’ve been using her for years. Want her help? Do better.”
I lift my eyes to his face, my heart pounding. His expression is unreadable, as blank as stone. He listened to everything I said in the tower. Heheardme. The knee-jerk reaction to defend the High Swynwragedd rises within me, a reflex they taught me well, but it falters. Hearing someone else give voice to the pain I have kept buried for so long is a confirmation I sorely needed. It solidifies something in me…something I’ve tried to ignore for so very long.
Theyhavebeen fucking using me.
And here on the coast, far beyond their control, I realize I don’t want to be under their thumb anymore.
Worse, they’ve been lying to everyone for centuries. They mean to keep all magic for themselves, damn the rest of the kingdom. I don’t know what this will mean for Osian. Somehow, I need to get him out. He’s in far more danger than I first thought.
Still, I feel a twisted sense of loyalty. Not just to the Order but to the people of our kingdom. The rebels have hurt too many innocents in their quest to take down the Order, attacking Caer Draen every anniversary of Culling Day, cutting down travellers to steal their coin and food. They are no better than the Order, no matter what they say, and after decades of fighting against their violence, I can’t just…jointhem.
What I can do is chart my own path. The rebels will tell me where the harp is. I’ll track it down and hide it somewhere safe until I understand what’s happening here—and who exactly the enemy is.
Besides, it isn’t as though I have another option.
Rhian stands before me, her brow arched in question. “If I remove the iron, will you help us stop the Order from doing what they plan?”
I lift my chin, my voice steadier than I expect. “I will.”
“Swear it,” she murmurs.
I sigh. These people and their oaths. “Fine, I swear I will stop the Order from bringing back the stars.”
19
They free me of my iron but insist on keeping Taliesin bound by his. He takes it better than I expect, but his silence unsettles me more than resistance ever could. There’s something calculating in his stony expression. His words are mild—or as mild as they ever are—but I suspect he’s planning something against them.
