Kaelen scowls. “Karrina and I areguestshere, as Pallan is quick to point out whenever I venture an opinion that differs from his. For my sister’s sake, I’ve been forced to bow to his wishes since the king took us in ten years ago, after the Zhagarn sent the Fell to murder my parents.”
“As … King Pallan’s guests?”
His bitter laugh holds no amusement. “Right. Though the only difference between guest and prisoner in Pallanhold Keep is accommodation.”
The sorcerer stops in front of a closed door at the end of the hall and shoots an admonishing look at the prince as she pulls a key from her pocket. “And you’ve learned nothing in the past ten years if you say such things where any ears might hear.”
“The hall is empty,” Kaelen says. “My hearing is as good as that of the lost snow leopards of the Panterran Mountains. As the old saying goes, a snow leopard can always hear you coming.”
“I thought that was a metaphor,” I venture. “For the battle-readinessof Valourian warriors.”
The Panterran Mountains on the Valourian side and the Altarran River on the Khyrrus side form a natural border between the two kingdoms, and the Valourian standard portrays a snarling snow leopard. The Khyrran standard sports a fish, as the Khyrrans aren’t a war-making people, and the fishing in the Altarran River is the best in the land.
Pyrrh’s standard is a wolf with a bloody muzzle. I doubt the symbolism escapes Pallan’s enemies.
Kaelen tilts his head in an oddly catlike manner and studies me. “You know quite a bit for a servant found covered in dirt from cleaning. There’s more to you than what you show on the surface, isn’t there?”
“Isn’t that true of everyone?” I dare to reply. “But no matter what I know or don’t know, I don’t see how I can possibly do this thing you all are asking of me.”
He leans closer, his gaze filled with purple flame. “Remember this, Soli goddess-touched: we must succeed, or all of Altarra will be destroyed. Therefore, wewillsucceed.”
The Air Touched, who has been staring back and forth between us like she’s watching a championship game of Spires, throws her hands in the air. “Yes, yes, I think she knows the stakes by now. Enough already!”
Without bothering to see if he answers, she faces the door, murmurs a brief chant, turns the key in the lock, and swings the door open. “Welcome to my humble home away from home.”
My anger at Kaelen and the fog that has enveloped me since the king ordered Trick’s execution both dissipate into fearful curiosity. I’m about to enter the sorcerer’s chambers, which likely house any number of terrifying things. “Really? Your rooms?”
We follow her inside, and I’m almost disappointed when no bats or spiders rush at me.
The sorcerer walks to the fireplace, but the prince and I stay near the door. “You’re staying with me because I need to ward and monitor the amulet.” The Air Touched takes a thick cloth and uses it to pick up a teapot hanging over the fire. “Tea, I think. I’ll ring for food, too. Kaelen, are you staying?”
The prince shakes his head, his expression grave. “No, I need to find my sister and comfort her. This—this will be hardest on her.”
The sorcerer flinches as if he struck her. “I’m so sorry,” she whispers. “If I could have found another way—any other way—”
“I’m sure you did your best,” he says in a tone that implies he’s not sure of that at all.
There seems to be a casual friendship between the two of them, but perhaps only a shallow one. Beneath their surface courtesies, I sense in each a deep distrust for the other. I know Valourian is welcoming to magic users—or, at least, it was before Corvynne’s forces conquered the kingdom.
So, this must be personal.
Another scrap of knowledge to hoard.
Kaelen pulls the door open with controlled ferocity but stops before walking out. “Soli, I’m … I’m sorry you got pulled into this. The quest is vital, but I’m sorry it’s you.”
And then he’s gone.
What do I do with that? He was angry that Flack hurt me, but he thinks I’m too weak to be useful. He’s sorry I got pulled into this, but he’s determined we’ll succeed at all costs. Who knows what that even means? What it means forme?
The next few hours are among the strangest I’ve ever passed. The sorcerer sends me to her bathing chamber. In any other circumstances, I’d find the novelty of a real bath with actual hot water luxurious. Now, though, I grimly scrub my body and hair, trying to avoid touching the amulet as much as I can.
I still don’t catch on fire, although maybe being in a tub full of water would help.
The image of Lil flashes into my mind, and I fight back tears. I won’t let these people see me cry.
When I’m dressed again, drying my hair before the fire, I swallow the small amount of pride I have left and beg the sorcerer to find out what she can about Trick. She sends the servant who brings a tray of food to ask, then bids me to eat quietly so she can concentrate on binding the amulet into a containment locket.
I nod at her request, staring at the huge platters of food on the tray. “Is this all for me?”
