Her hand stilled, and she snapped, “Don’t you dare lie to me. It’s an insult to my intelligence.”
I headed toward the door, but she stepped into my path. “El, please. Not here.”
“Then where? When? What are you going to do, Krait? I deserve to know.”
Maybe she did deserve answers. Instead, I growled,“Don’t be dramatic.”
“I’m not! Are you dense?”
I rarely heard Elsedora angry.
While rage also crept into the corners of my mind, I wasn’t mad at El. She’d just forced me to think about the repercussions of every action I’d taken in my five centuries of existence.
“Why aren’t you with her?”
My concern must have been answer enough because Elsedora’s entire posture softened. “She’s with Ryn—they’re eating lunch. Now answer me. Is it her?”
“Yes. She’s the last full Reverist, and you cannot tell a soul.”
“And?” El pressed.
“And...” I struggled with the next part. Elsedora knewThe Book of Isoldeas well as I did. She’d spent centuries searching for hidden artifacts mentioned in it that might’ve led me to Sybilla.
She just needed me to confirm what she already knew.
“According to the prophecy, the child of the fifth heir of Shadows and the Last Daughter of Isleen will end Death’s second reign.”
Elsedora snorted. “Well, Fifth Heir of Shadows, I’d suggest you be a tad nicer to her then. I don’t know a single woman who would choose to procreate with such a gloomy asshole.”
If she only knew the proposition Sybilla had laid before me the night prior.
“Such high praise for your King,” I mused. My normally light and airy friend was stone-faced and solemn.
“After you have an heir—how long?”
I shrugged and said, “My father was immortal until my birth. He lost control of his Shadows and passed them to me by my twentieth birthday and then lived a long mortal life. It won’t be instant. You aren’t getting rid of me so quickly.”
“Yes—but you will bemortal.Me, Ryn, the Sahlms, we’ll all lose you eventually. Are you sure there’s no other way? I can go to the East Corridor ruins again...” The idea died on Elsedora’s tongue.
“There is no other option. You’ll need to guide them. Maybe my heir will be less of a ‘gloomy asshole’ to you.”
Elsedora pursed her lips and narrowed her gaze.
Mortality didn’t frighten me. As a younger man, it had. My father built dying up to be some grand, dreary occasion. He was buried somewhere in the catacombs beneath the Brennac ruins. He’d endlessly harped on me not to take my immortality for granted.
My mother had been mortal, a spitfire that everyone in Brennax had loved. She threw loud parties, never took no for an answer and loved fiercely. I’d grown up feeling as though she might be the only person who could truly love my father for all he was.
They got lucky. None of the prophecies in that old fucking book had relied onthemprocreating with a specific person.
I looked away from Elsedora and up at Freya—my Source Match, my everything.
She had been the only reason I hadn’t Shadowed the whole world apart by now. Freya had been gentle and loved by all. She’d always known about the prophecy and had reminded me often that even though it could never have been our child, shewould’ve raised any heir of mine as her own. That had been our plan then.
Now, she wasn’t here to offer me a kind hand on the cheek or to tell me to go on. She would have wanted me to do the right thing for the realms. It still put a sour taste in my mouth...
Elsedora eyed me with skepticism. “You don’t intend to force her to—”
“Of course not.” I held up a hand and ground out, “You’ve known me far too long to ask that question.”
