To her credit, Ione remained calm. Looked a little impressed, even.
“There’s the leader we need,” she whispered, resignation settling over her features. “So, what’s your plan then?”
He pulled the crucible from his pocket. “I’ll burn a temporary hole in the wards, slip into the prison, and get the dragon’s name from Aedelmar Burkhardt.”
Ione perked up. “If that’s all we need, why can’t someone else go? Send Layla. Or Seraavi. Why does it have to beyou?”
“You know why,” was all Tristan said. End of subject.
He told Ione the rest of what he, Cael, and Trophonios had discussed. That once Tristan learned the name, he’d pass it along to Cael via the cuff.
Trophonios had said the devices were far more powerful than regular commstones. Powerful enough to be used beyond the wards, though the connection might be spotty or difficult to achieve. And would likely only work to send a single communication.
Tristan had asked why the mentrite speck would work beyond the wards if the opal wouldn’t, and Trophonios had answered that it was far easier to transfer sound waves than an entire body of flesh and bone.
Fair point.
“This still seems like a tremendous risk,” Ione said. “If anything goes wrong, if you’re not able to get the name from Aedelmar, or if the cuff fails, you’re stuck in there. Maybe forever.”
Tristan sent her a rueful smile. “Well in that case, I suppose it would be smart to have a plan B, wouldn’t it?”
Tristan signaled through his cuff, and Trophonios entered the workshop.
To bear official witness.
Tristan took Ione’s hand and led her toward the tall, elegant male.
“She doesn’t look too angry.” Trophonios grinned.
“Oh, she was furious a few minutes ago,” Tristan said. “Cursed her head off. Threatened to steal my throne.” Ione laughed as he turned to her. “But I’m hoping she’ll make the same promise I made a few nights ago. To protect our people at all costs. No matter what happens to me in Tartarus.”
Fierce determination shone in Ione’s indigo eyes. “I will. Always.”
Tristan nodded, relieved. He’d made this plan shortly after he’d heard the prophecy. A way to honor Ione’s sacrifices and dedication in a manner that didn’t require him to give her his heart. Which he didn’t have the authority to give away, anyway.
It belonged to Cassandra.
“Ione Saros,” he said, grasping her hands, “until I marry or produce an heir, I officially name you my successor. If I die before either of those events take place…”
He rested his palm upon her forehead, where her opal normally rested when she wore the Delphine’s circlet.
“…then you shall be Empress of Ethyrios.”
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
“Ireally don’t want to give you the satisfaction, do-gooder, but High-Gods-damn, that feels nice.”
Cassandra smiled softly as she rubbed healing salve into Ana’s stiff ankle joints.
It was well-past midnight, the Kennel dark and quiet. She’d come with Silas again, but had sent him home a few minutes ago when she’d poked her head out the door and seen him sleeping against the wall.
Some lookout.
They’d been getting up earlier than normal to train for a few hours each day before Ronin and Mireille joined them. And the cost of her sleep was worth it; her balance, her aim, the force of her blows—they were all improving.
Before Cassandra had left tonight, Mireille had tried to convince her to stay home. With the appeal less than a week away, not to mention Mireille’s performance at World’s End tomorrow night, Cassandra shouldn’t be risking exposure at the Kennel. There were plenty of other volunteers, so Mireille had said.
But none of those Fae had ever gotten through to Ana. And after several visits, the woman was finally opening up. LettingCassandra deliver extra food. Letting Cassandra heal some of her chronic impairments.
