Giving in to both her soreness and her hunger, Cassandra requested they stop for breakfast at a charming outdoor café with black and white rattan tables.
She ordered a flaky, sugar-dusted pastry from the polite waiter, then moaned in ecstasy as she tore into it. She ate three, washing them down with a cool, frothy drink flavored with chocolate and cinnamon. Tristan echoed her order.
“When in Meridon.” He chomped down half a pastry in a single bite. “What?”
“You have…” she began, then leaned across the table and swiped her fingers across his lips to dust away the sugar. He grabbed her wrist and licked her fingertips with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes.
As it often did these days when she allowed herself a moment’s joy, reality washed over her in a cold splash. “How many died?” she whispered, pulling her hand from his grasp and taking a bite of another pastry.
“Six. Four adults and two children.” His voice cracked. “All humans.”
Cassandra’s sinuses burned, and the now-ashen lump of pastry caught in her thick throat. “Why didn’t they help?”
“Who?”
“The other Windriders. They gathered up their families and flew away. Didn’t spare a thought for any of the helpless humans on board.”
Tristan’s wings ruffled as he held her watery gaze. She could sense his churning thoughts, his conflicting desires to defend his species while not damning hers.
When he finally spoke, his face was a mask of cold fury. “They have been fed lies, forcenturies, about what humans are worth. The most convincing from my awful brother and the rest of my terrible family.” His face softened. “They don’t know any better.”
Cassandra wasn’t feeling inclined towards forgiveness this morning. But perhaps she could, in time. Pushing her conflicting emotions aside, she refocused on their work.
“That Windrider. She had fire magic. Have you ever seen such a thing?”
Tristan stuffed an entire pastry into his mouth, spewing crumbs as he answered. “Not personally. Though other elemental powers besides wind magic did exist among the Fae centuries ago, long before the war.”
“Like Maksym’s lightning?” Cassandra shuddered as she recalled those flickering, electric charges. How they’d speared for Tristan during his airborne fight with Maksym.
Tristan nodded.
“So what are you saying?” she asked. “That Maksym and his minions have somehow found a way to activate long-dead magic?”
Tristan shrugged, nonchalant as ever. “It’s possible.”
“How?”
“I’m wondering if it has something to do with the Fallen Goddess.”
“What makes you think that?”
“That Windrider said she wasa messenger from the New Ethyrios. And thatshe will rise to save us. That certainly sounds like the nonsense Maksym was spewing at us a week ago. They must be working together.”
“How would he have known where to find us? Who even knew we were coming here?”
“I’m sure Maksym has spies everywhere. Plenty of people saw us in the dining hall on the ship.”
Cassandra flopped back in her chair, blowing out an anxious breath. “A group of crazed zealots wielding newly restored elemental magics seems like a far worse threat than a batch of tainted Delirium. Why do you think your brother told you to ignore it?”
“I’m not certain. But when have I ever done what I was told?” Cassandra huffed a laugh. “I told you this was a fool’s errand. We need to stay a step ahead of him. Let’s see what we can find in the Temple library after we meet with the Artisan.”
“What’s the point of the meeting, now that we’ve lost the memory?”
“You’ve viewed it enough times, I’m hoping she’ll be able to pull it from you. And we’ll have a few hours to kill while she’s working. Might as well spend them doing something useful, now that our day at the beach is no longer in the cards.”
She chuckled at his disheartened expression. “Sad that you won’t get to see me in that bathing suit after all?”
“I’ll take solace in the show you gave me last night.” He pressed her fingertips to his lips, and her limbs went tingly. “And I’ll buy you a new one when we get home. You can parade around the house in it for me, playmate.”
