She scoffs. “I should have known you wouldn’t have the stomach for this.”
Everything within me tenses. Stars, I’m sick of people underestimating me.
“Then you’ve forgotten who I am and what I can do,” I say, my voice hardening. “If anyone has the stomach for darkness, it’s me.”
She goes still, her face paling. The room falls utterly silent. Not even a breath can be heard. They all know what I mean.
And instantly, I almost regret saying it. Almost.
Rhian clears her throat. “Right, we best get started then. I’ll try questioning him first."
The others busy themselves with the map or their blades. Gwenydd leaves the tent entirely. I can’t say I’m surprised. Back home, people always found reasons to leave me anytime I so much as mentioned my magic. It only confirms what I already know.
I am alone.
I start back toward the tower. There’s nothing left for me to do here—not until Rhian’s questioning fails. Behind me, Taliesin pushes out of the tent and jogs to catch up. He falls into step beside me, his hands in his pockets, his stride steady, like nothing out of the ordinary has happened.
Compared to yesterday, I suppose it hasn’t.
“That was an interesting comment. Did you mean it?” he asks.
Straight to it, then. “And did you mean what you said when you agreed to torture a prisoner?”
“Every fucking word,” he says darkly. “But I’ve heard stories about this bastard. Him and some of his soldier friends. I’m guessing you haven’t.”
I slow. “You want to tell me what he did?”
“It’s a dark story that you won’t like, but I’ll tell you if you want to hear it.” He comes to a stop, gently taking my arm to hold me back with him. “There’s something I want to show you first. I think it might cheer you up.”
I press my lips together. “There’s something I need to tell you, too. And I don’t think it should wait any longer.”
“It sounds serious,” he says, his brow lifting.
“You might not want to cheer me up after you hear it.”
He watches me a beat longer. “Then how about this? I show you the thing, then we can ruin each other’s days. How does that sound?”
“Well, when you put it like that…” I can’t help but laugh, despite the weight of our situation. “Then go ahead and ruin me.”
“Careful. I don’t do things halfway,” he says, his lips curling into a dangerous smile. “Especially not that.”
27
The firebird roosts on the wreckage of the rampart with its talons hooked over the crumbling stone. Behind her, a flock of starlings glides as a single cloud of black, their movements as precise and elegant as any dance. Smears of orange varnish the sky, the clouds no more than thin, wispy nets to catch the light. A soft breeze rushes in from the sea. The scent of salt comes with it.
“She’s been here all day,” Taliesin explains as we slowly approach the great bird, her orange wings glimmering like the sunset. “No matter what anyone brings her, she won’t move.”
“She came for me,” I say with a certainty I don’t quite understand.
The firebird turns her head at the sound of my voice. Then she answers—low and resonant. A shiver runs through me.
“Maybe she’s choosing you,” Taliesin murmurs.
I slow, glancing up at him. “For what?”
He lifts his shoulder in a shrug. “I suppose that’s what you’ll have to find out.”
I walk the few remaining steps, my boots crushing the damp grass. She opens her wings and spreads them wide, like she’sdemonstrating her strength. I hold myself still, not daring to interrupt her. Taliesin pauses a few paces behind.
