The name of a city. One he’d never visited, yet felt as familiar to him as Thalenn. One laced with painful, agonizing memories.
Cassandra perked up. “Was that news from the Artisan?”
“Yes,” he grimaced, pulling his wings back and exposing them to the soft afternoon light spilling in through the library’s high windows. “Let’s go.”
Cassandra stood, a puzzled expression on her face, though she didn’t ask where they were going. She tucked her shirt into her pants and smoothed her hair, tightening her ponytail. A thrill shot through him that she appeared so undone because of him, but it wasn’t enough to chase away his anxiety over their new destination.
As they made their way out of the library, they passed their pipe-wielding neighbor sitting at another table. He gave Tristan a knowing wink on their way out.
They strode into the small courtyard just inside the Temple gates and came upon a group of Sisters gathered around a stone bench, chattering in rushed whispers.
A name floated over, and Cassandra halted in her tracks, the color draining from her face.
“Did you say Sister Arelinn?” she asked, approaching the Sisters and addressing a woman with a long, dark brown braid nearly the same shade as Cassandra’s own flowing locks.
“Yes,” the Sister answered warily. “Who are you?”
Cassandra pushed up her sleeve, exposing her tattoo. “I’m a former Shrouded Sister. My partner and I,” she gestured to Tristan, “came to the Temple today to do some, ah, research.”
He swallowed a chuckle.
“Are you from the Temple at Primarvia then?” the Sister asked. “Do you know Sister Arelinn?”
“Perhaps,” Cassandra answered carefully. “What did she look like?”
“Tall and thin,” the Sister said. “Her hair was covered, but her eyes were the brightest green. Like emeralds. She arrived this morning to apprentice with us, then ran off. We haven’t been able to find her. Do you know her?”
“No, I…” Cassandra paused, as if suddenly realizing she didn’t want to reveal too much to this group of strangers. “Sorry, I thought…Sorry.” She darted through the gates, Tristan following on her heels.
Once they were safely ensconced within the crowds on the bustling street, Tristan halted her with a gentle touch. “What was that all about?”
Cassandra’s eyes were panicked, yet hopeful. “Arelinn,” she said. “I’ve only ever heard that name once before. It’s the name of a character in Xenia’s favorite series of books. Tall, thin, green eyes. Xenia was here today.” She whipped her head around, frantically searching the crowd for her friend. “She’s alive. She was here, Tristan. In Meridon. What in the name of Stygios would she be doing here?”
Tristan could think of only one reason, but he was hesitant to share his thoughts, didn’t want to crush Cassandra’s blossoming hope. Maksym needed the blood of Shrouded Sisters to enact his plan. And it’s not like he or his Deathstalker henchmen could just waltz into a Temple to abduct them. Richelle, a Sister, had captured Sister Kouris. Maksym had probably conscripted Xenia to do the same.
Cassandra bowed her head, massaging her temples, as if chasing away the rapid onset of a headache. “Do you think she’s still here on the island?”
He didn’t spare a thought before sweeping Cassandra into his arms. They spent the next half hour hovering over the streets, searching for messy blond curls. Curls he suspected they wouldn’t find. But if Cassandra wanted to look, he’d do anything to keep her happy. She sagged further and further in his arms as their search proved fruitless.
“She’s not here, Cass,” Tristan whispered. “We need to go.”
She sighed, settling her head against his shoulder and muttering, “I know. Where are we heading?”
He braced himself to say the name of the town he’d avoided for two centuries.
“Vaengya.”
CHAPTERFIFTEEN
Xenia sucked in a gasping breath. Her head pounded as she sat upright and her eyes adjusted to the quivering torchlight.
She was back in Maksym’s dungeon.
Fuck.
She shuddered at the faint pink lines along her left wrist, reliving the searing pain of Alexei’s venom thrashing through her body.
How long ago had that been?
