Thia frowned. “Oskaren? Of course not. I barely know her. But her mother was kind to me. I promised to watch out for her.”
“Sorscha loves her still?” The sorceress examined Oskaren, face unreadable.
“Do you know her?”
Callista didn’t seem to hear her. “And does she love her mother?”
Thia fingered the hem of her shirt. “You’ve heard…. You know she’s cursed, right?”
Callista’s gaze jumped to Thia’s. “Of course. Forgive me.”
Thia studied her, trying to understand the woman’s strange expression.
Dess cleared his throat. He was studying Oskaren’s sleeping form, seeming relieved in a way that made Thia’s heart crack a bit. “I’ll be back in a moment,” he said, brushing some of his chaotic hair off a sticky brow. She nodded, and he exited, leaving her alone with the sorceress again.
She was also watching Oskaren, though her face was unreadable. Sensing Thia’s attention, she blew out a breath and stood. “I should go also.”
“Wait,” Thia said. “What about—how do I get an audience with the Mage King?”
Callista smoothed the folds of her dress. “Ah,” she said. “An impossibility. He will not see you.”
Thia’s lips parted. “But you said—”
Callista held up her hands, and Thia quieted. “He will never see Thia Sanbrooke, a common girl begging a favor. But he would see the Storm Crow.”
Thia’s blood went cold. “You know I’m not the Storm Crow.” She chewed her lip. “Why did you lie to the people of Haven? Why send me here if that was your aim? If I tell him I’m the Storm Crow, he’ll kill me.” She looked at the sorceress for confirmation.
The woman was unbothered. “Most likely.”
“So then what?” It didn’t make any sense; this entire plan had hinged on Callista solving the problem of gaining audience with the Mage King, and instead she was telling her the same thing everyone else had. And she of all people knew Thia was just a girl.
“There is another way,” Callista said slowly, eyes sparking.
When she didn’t elaborate, Thia felt a flash of irritation. “Tell me.”
“I cannot promise that he’ll help you. But I can get you an audience.” She paused to laugh, a high, tinkling bell. “But only if you ask nicely.”
“Please,” Thia ground out, irked by the sense the sorceress was toying with her. “I’ll do anything.”
The sorceress laughed again. “My, my.” She paused. “I want a favor.”
Thia was in no position to argue, but something about the woman’s tone raised the hairs on the back of her neck. “What do you want?”
Callista tucked one of Thia’s curls behind her ear. “There’s no need to look so pale, dear. I don’t yet know what I want. For now I desire your promise that, should I help you, and the Mage King sends you home, if you ever return to Eldris, you will endeavor to aid me when I ask it of you.”
Thia chewed her lip. She had no intention of coming back. And if the king didn’t send her home, she probably wouldn’t live long enough to fulfill the bargain anyway. “Deal,” she agreed.
Callista held out her hand. “Give me your word.”
She took it. The sorceress’s skin was cool, her fingers smooth and soft. “I promise.” She was about to let go when a sharp prick stung her palm, like she’d caught a spark with her bare hand. She yelped, pulling away, but there was no mark.
“The deal is struck,” Callista said, smiling lightly. She straightened. “Now, I must go. Stay here until I return with news. And when you go to meet the king, leave the girl here.”
“She’s wanted, isn’t she?”
“Indeed,” the sorceress said. “If you do not want her to die—all of you to die—you will leave her behind when you enter the city.”
“Thanks,” Thia said, meaning it.
