“Gareth has been pressuring the council,” Peter said, still addressing Ian. “He is asking them to strip you of your name and title so that he can assume full leadership of Iseldis before the Majis return. Onric has been able to hold their sway as they are loyal to you, Prince Ian, but they are not immune to fear, and Gareth knows that.”
Ian pressed his hand to his forehead. “I need to return to the castle. If he continues to spread these rumors, the people will have no choice but to believe I have abandoned them.”
“That is exactly what he wants,” Robin said, stepping forward, a sensation of panic rising in her chest. “Are you going to so easily hand your life over to him?”
“But if I do nothing, then the councilors give Gareth complete control and it does not matter if I am alive or not,” Ian said. “Besides, I cannot leave Onric to face this alone.”
“Onric told you to remain here,” Robin said, surprised by the adamant tone of her own voice. “Do you truly think he is not up to the task at hand?” Robin did not know Onric well, but from everything she did know, he was calm and diplomatic.
Ian thought for a moment before answering. “I trust Onric implicitly. In fact, he might be better suited to speaking to the council than I am. He is blunt, but honest.”
“Then trust him to do his part,” Robin said.
“And continue to do nothing?” Ian asked, his face twisted in despair.
“I would not refer to the work you have done here as nothing.” Robin raised her eyebrows.
Ian’s face softened. “I did not mean to insinuate anything about your work,” he said. “But I am out of time. I must do something.”
Robin crossed her arms, considering her next words carefully. “The harvestreign festival is in two days,” she said. “We go each year to gather information. Come with us. You can see for yourself how the city is faring. Perhaps even find a way to speak with Onric directly.”
A knock sounded on the door behind her, and Robin looked back to see Ilida entering the room. “I found a place for Lord Cabril to rest for the night,” Ilida said.
Robin stepped back. “Please,” she said, “take your leave. We will talk again before you go.”
Peter nodded, the exhaustion evident on his face as he slowly stood from the chair. He began to follow Ilida toward the door but stopped, turning back to Ian. “I nearly forgot.” He reached into his pocket. “My daughter sent this.” He held out an intricate silver case that rested easily in his palm.
Chapter 23
That evening, Ian walked the pleasant trail to the Majis village behind Lockwood. He had visited once more after helping build the cottage, to talk with Lyra and learn more about the Majis.
As expected, the ever-watchful community had seen his approach from some way off, and Lyra herself was at the village edge to meet him. “Ian,” she said. “This is an unexpected, but not unwelcome surprise.”
“Good eve to you,” Ian said. “I have come to ask for your help with something.”
“I will do what is in my power,” Lyra said. “Come sit by the fire.”
Ian followed the older woman through the softly lit village. He did not know that the beauty of the glowing glass would ever fail to amaze him.
At the center of the six cottages, several of the Majis sat around a large fire. The sun had just set, and it was that peaceful time of evening when it was too dark to continue work but too early to fully sleep. Ian hoped that it would be the perfect time for what he had in mind.
Approaching the fire, Lyra gestured for him to sit on a wooden bench next to a familiar light-haired figure.
“Robin?” Surprised, Ian sat down next to her.
She turned to him, her hood back and her eyes bright. “Ian?” she said, imitating his tone. “Why am I not surprised?” She smiled, turning back to face the fire. “I keep finding you in the most unexpected of places.”
“Which makes this an expected place?” Ian asked. She did not sound irked at finding him all around Lockwood.
“What are you doing here?” Robin asked.
Ian pulled the silver needle case from his pocket and turned to face the Majis woman who had sat on his other side. “I came to ask Lyra for help.” He opened the case and dropped the thick iron needle into his hand, holding it out for both women to see.
“My sister,” he said, referring to Ashlin, “discovered an ancient tapestry from the time of the Majis queen. It appears to tell the history of Majis in Iseldis, but several panels have been destroyed, making the story unreadable. This needle, a Majis artifact, held remnants of harmony magic, and it guided Ashlin in restoring some of the panels. But it has since run out of magic.”
“Ah.” The woman nodded. She reached out to take the needle from Ian. “And it will only work if someone who knows the story reinfuses the magic.”
Ian nodded, letting her take the needle. “Prior to a few days ago, I only knew a few Majis, and none of them know the true history of what happened two hundred and fifty years ago.”
