“You want to talk about any of it?” he asks.
“I don’t think so. Not right now.” I back away to my own door, a little more of a saunter to my steps than I intend. “But maybe I’ll see you in your dreams.”
His lips curl. “If I’m lucky.”
26
Isleep like the dead.
When I finally wake, the sun seeps through the gloom of heavy cloud already halfway across the sky. I’ve slept until midday, at least, my body and mind drained to near nothing. From the tower window, the ruins sprawl across the land, the poisonous sea shimmering off the cliffs. Several tall, rectangular stones stand alone, while another half-formed tower tilts in the distance, its jagged walls thick with moss and lichen.
A small group has gathered near a cluster of stones, watching two figures spar with wooden swords. They duck and dodge and weave through the ruins, their faces shining with sweat. The clatter of their swords and the occasional cheer drifts toward me. I hug my arms to my chest and watch for a while, letting the normalcy of it all wash over me.
This feels like the training yard back home. I used to watch Osian train for hours.
Home.I loose a sigh. Caer Draen and the Order’s glittering castle, with its portrait-lined halls and feasts steeped in luxury, no longer feels like home. Seren and Lowri no longer feel like family. They don’t even feel like friends.
The heavy weight of loneliness settles on my shoulders like an ill-fitting cloak. I’m on my own now. What’s more, I always have been. I can see that so clearly now.
A soft knock sounds on my door. I cross the room and pull it open to find Arianell hovering in the corridor with a bowl of porridge that steams in the cool air. Her hair is braided as it was yesterday, but this morning she’s woven the strands into a neat crown on her head, though frizzy tendrils spring free.
My stomach emits an eager rumble at the scent of oats and milk, shot through with…is that honey?
“Morning,” she greets with a warm smile. “Though it might be more fitting to say ‘afternoon.’”
“Morning and afternoon,” I tell her. “I’m not imagining it, am I? That porridge smells like honey.”
Her grin widens as she passes me the bowl. “You’ve got a good sense of smell.”
“I thought you didn’t get honey all the way out here,” I say. “Not that I’m complaining.”
“Well, that was before the king’s army was passing through.”
My brow arches skyward. “You got this from the king’s army? I think I’ve missed a step or two. How long was I asleep?”
She laughs softly, but something in it feels strained. The smile doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “Just the one night. Gwenydd works fast. She stole some supplies.”
Gwenydd. Of course. “She’s your scout, right?”
“One of them.” She sighs. “You best eat that while it’s still warm. Rhian asked for you to meet her and the others in the main tent when you’re finished. There’s been…a development.”
The back of my neck prickles in alarm. “Dare I ask?”
“Nothing to do with you, don’t worry.” She backs away, wiping her hands on her flour-dusted tunic. “Just be quick. Rhian doesn’t like waiting.”
After closing the door behind her and wolfing down the food, I wash my face in the water basin and change into a plain green linen dress I found on the side table when I got in last night, then cinch it with a leather belt. On the way down the stairs, I check Taliesin’s room. It’s empty, his bedsheets tucked neatly around the mattress, pillows plumped and squared just so against the headboard. Someone could have come and tidied the room for him, but I’m certain it was him. He doesn’t seem like the kind of person who likes to leave behind a mess.
The main tent is crowded when I finally walk inside. Rhian and Gethin bicker over the strategy table, Meurig and Brioc pace the floor, Gwenydd hovers nearby with her arms crossed, while Taliesin leans back in a chair, one leg propped over his knee. His face is completely unreadable, or it is at first glance. There’s a small twitch near his jaw that says he’s either irritated or amused. Maybe both.
Then Rhian catches sight of me. She instantly straightens, then beckons me to the table. Reluctantly, I trail closer. There’s something in the air I don’t like. A scent I don’t understand but recognize. I try to pinpoint what it is I move toward the strategy table, and when I’m only a few feet away, I get a better whiff of it.
It’s Order magic, but it’s mixed with the thick, nauseating stench of rot.
I press a fisted hand to my mouth.
Rhian frowns. “What’s wrong? Are you feeling all right?”
“Can’t you smell that?” I ask around the lump in my throat.
