I exhaled in relief. Thank the gods I’d brought him here. Leaving the nest of Solkar’s Reach, where everyone knew everyone else, would do wonders for expanding his peculiar social skills.
“You’re very welcome.” Zandyr rolled his wrist and fell back into his chair, spent.
“Hard to be powerful, isn’t it?” I asked with a grin.
His blood powers were spectacular–he’d obliterated the former Serpent general in a sea of guts and sinew–but too new, too raw. I remembered those first few months after the Calling, when even experimenting with tree sap drained and brought me to my knees on the forest floor.
Zandyr waved a tired hand. “I haven’t slept since the wedding.”
Which meant Evie was also walking around like a corpse. Despite what Allie thought, I truly wasn’t immune to her cousin’s plight. She’d been caught in the biggest whirlwind to shake Malhaven in generations, just like the rest of us, but she would remain alive–through any means necessary.
Did I agree with those means, decided long ago?
No.
But with the looming war, his personal problems weren’t exactly at the forefront of my mind.
My death was merely the unavoidable end–whether it would come sooner or later, us mortals didn’t have any say–and I’d decided long ago, before I became leader of Solkar’s Reach, that it wasn’t a thought I’d battle.
What I did wrestle with, though, was Allie being thousands of miles away.
It was in my blood to trust Solkar’s Reach and protect it, but the crater not allowing someone to leave was unheard of.
Even if the crater had tried to protect her before.
Though I knew she could handle herself.
I worried. Every waking moment. Every breath I expelled was tied to her. Every time I looked up at the stars, I wondered if she saw them, too, at that exact moment. She fluttered in every moment of silence I didn’t know what to do with.
So I fretted–and kept it hidden.
“You just wait until it’s your turn.” Zandyr pinched the bridge of his brows. “I need to get ready. We’re marching tomorrow.”
He didn’t move.
“Mrs. Thornbrew’s tea always helps,” Geryll quipped. “I’m sure she’ll be happy to share her recipe. I can ask Nadya through the palaver portal.”
“That’s a fine idea,” Zandyr said indulgently, even as the bags under his eyes dragged his whole face down. No tea would be able to fix the crack in his soul. “I’m willing to try anything at this point.”
“Other than revealing the truth,” I muttered.
Zandyr set his steel eyes on me. “Do you want me to die?”
“Judging by the state of you, that will happen anyway. Unless you make things right,” I said.
I worried about him, too.
“I’ll be fine,” he muttered.
I wanted to argue more, but that would have only drained him further. I looked out the window at the impossible greenery surrounding us.
I’d never trade my snowy hills for anything, but the thick, lush leaves and meaty flower petals sang to my basic instincts. The ones that sometimes craved a simpler, warmer life.
“That is not possible.” Zandyr rose in that princely way of his, not a hair out of place, not a wrinkle on his silk robes. He gave a long nod to Geryll. “Pleasure meeting you. I hope you’ll like your stay in our Capital.”
Geryll scrambled to sit up and bow, a task made infinitely harder by the loose shirt and pants he wore to stave off the southern heat.
“Don’t trouble yourself.” Zandyr gestured back at the seat. “You’ll have access to our full war archives and the Grand Library in the Citadel. The scribes know you’ll be shadowing them. Just don’t go further down than three levels.”
