“The curia...” Esmeray paled.
“So I spoke for him, as a daughter of the curia, which I’d never heard before.” Ellie shifted. Jesstin shook his head at the floor. “It wasn’t enough to undo what the Virtue had said, but it added options. The one they chose was something called the bond, which...” She pinched her outer thigh.
“Are you all right?” Rhiain asked her.
“She gets terrible anxiety,” Taven said quietly. He was eager to comfort her, but she was still angry, and there were too many in the room who would punish him for trying. “Give her a moment.”
“I’m fine,” she said through clenched teeth, though she was clearly not fine.
“I’ll finish.” Jesstin sat up straight. His mouth curled when his gaze passed over Taven. “Elloven and I, it seems, are now bonded for life, which will end in about a year because unless she gets pregnant, by me, by then, we’ll both... I don’t know, explode into balls of flame or something. They didn’t really elaborate, but I’m sure it will be fun for everyone.”
Esmeray was speechless. Welcome to my predicament.
“There’s more,” Asterin said. “The bond is sealed with a magic they claim cannot be undone. I intend to challenge this assertion by traveling to the Consortium of the Sepulchre in the Skies and speaking with the head magus myself. There are still some mysteries in this kingdom, and he’ll be aware of them all.”
“He will have no knowledge or authority over this magic. It comes not from this kingdom but another,” Esmeray said, assertive. She picked at threads on her old gown, which should have been mended years ago. Taven pushed down the slightest tinge of shame. He did care about her—it was why he’d refused to kill her—but there was an order to things, and the clairsight’s order for Esmeray was to live in darkness and confusion until it was her time to return to the light. It wouldn’t be much longer. Ellie’s deep clean the day before was the first sign of the changing wind.
Taven could, of course, explain none of that to the people in the room.
He needed Esmeray alone for the next part, and for that to happen, the conversation had to end.
“Ilynglass?” Asterin’s grin was brief. “I’ve heard the rumors, the parallels with the Seven Sisters and the lost kingdom, but many refugees from the mountain villages have come to the Reliquary, as well as the Sepulchre, and if there were any strong connection, we’d know more than we do.”
“The curias speak to no one about the curias but the curias,” Esmeray said, her dark eyes shifting into the initial throes of her rote melancholy. “There is nothing you could do to persuade one of us because we are trained to withstand torture for such purposes. Many of my people have been systematically executed to extract this information, and their deaths have all been in vain. How there’s been an entire community of us only a short ride away, and I’ve never known it, speaks to how well we keep secrets.”
Which is the fault of your curia. Esmeray was an Eversong, one of the silver tongues. They could spin stories, narratives, and could end them. It was Curia Eversong who had spun the magic that forbade those with the blood of Ilynglass to speak openly beyond their borders.
The clairsight had shown Taven this, and that many things—like the cursed bond—could be undone when he and Ellie were welcomed home.
It all hinged upon them arriving at the right curia.
“Then what do you suggest, Baroness, seeing as it was your people who created this curse?”
“It’s no curse,” Esmeray said. Her brows formed two deep creases. “The bond has another name, one I cannot share. But it is no curse. A curse is not something we can choose. It’s something that happens to us. Elloven offered her word and life for his. She made a choice.”
And that, that was the part Taven struggled with most. Ellie hadn’t been coerced into joining herself to Jesstin for the rest of her days. She’d known exactly what she was agreeing to and had hardly hesitated at all.
“And now we are here,” Taven said. He tapped his foot. It was already midmorning. They had to be mindful of Quinlanden guards, who’d be patrolling the roads, which meant crossing into the Westerlands as quickly as possible. They’d need to wait until tomorrow to take advantage of a full day’s light, and he was done waiting. “Asterin, I still think you should go to the Sepulchre. Who knows what you’ll find.”
“I intend to.” Asterin’s tone was short. Taven supposed he couldn’t blame him. He had nearly gotten the man’s brother killed. “Emrys and Rhiain will speak to the man who runs Mythgarde. I believe they call him Pretor?”
Pretor was an honorific, not a name, but Taven said nothing.
“You’ll get nowhere with him,” Jesstin said. “His gold and favor depend on things running as they always have.”
“He hasn’t met your sister, has he?” Rhiain grinned, but Jesstin’s mouth only twitched.
“I appreciate your help,” Ellie said. “But these past years have thrown sign after sign at me that I’m meant to go to my people. They will have the answers. I feel it in my bones.”
There’s my girl. Lay the foundation, and I will build us a palace.
“Not this again, El.” Esmeray pinched her spine straight. She was more alert than she’d been in months. “They are a dangerous, volatile people. I wish you would listen to me. They cannot be trusted.”
“Clearly.” Rhiain gestured at the newly bonded couple.
“I can’t even take a fucking piss without wondering if I’m going to be snapped back to her side,” Jesstin muttered. “So ‘dangerous’ sounds like a holiday to me right about now.”
The woundedness in Ellie’s haunted eyes was disturbing, but Taven was more aggravated with Jesstin for being so ungrateful. She’d saved his damn life. She had a good heart. It was the only explanation for why she’d made such a thoughtless decision, and if she hadn’t made it, Jesstin’s family would be dressing his body for the vault. But he was complaining about being tethered to Ellie? Really?
