“You look good. Better,” Tira says to me, then turns to Leon. “She was like one of those Hallowbane creatures when all of you first arrived. The ruined?” My friend shudders before meeting my gaze. “It would be great if you could avoid scaring us like that again.”
“Sorry,” I say, sitting beside her on the bed and giving her a hug. “Thank you for your help.”
“Thank Mal more than anyone. I think he’s still sleeping off the panic attack he nearly had when he thought he might have killed you both. We put him and Lafia near me and Wadestaff—we’ve nearly got a whole wing of humans now—well, and half humans. I want to rename it ‘Little Trova,’ but Fairon says it’s not allowed.”
She throws the crown prince a look of mock outrage, and he offers a small smile in return.
“I fear it may not be prudent, Miss Holms. Let’s not set tongues wagging in Lavail if we can avoid it.”
Tira rolls her eyes but winks at me with a grin.
At first, I’m surprised by the familiarity between the pair, then I remember that Tira’s been at the palace for a few weeks now. Leon asked Fairon to look out for her, so they must’ve gotten to know each other during that time. It suddenly strikes me what a contrast they are: the stately fae prince and my scrappy, sarcastic friend. But somehow, they seem to have made the alliance work.
“Anyway, we didn’t just come to see that you’re alright. We’ve got news,” Tira says. “We weren’t about to get into it when you first arrived, but since you’re fine now, it’s time for an update.”
“Miss Holms successfully passed your message onto Proctor Gallis at Vastamae,” Fairon explains, “and she’s sent us a reply.”
“About the artifacts?” I ask, standing up, eager to hear what she has to say. Now that Leon’s safe, my fears about the Grand Bearer are back at the top of my priority list.
“Relax, my love,”Leon tries to soothe me through the mooring.
“How can I relax?”I shoot back, giving him a glare.“Now I’ve seen what just one of these tokens can do, we have to make sure he doesn’t get any more.”
But Tira is talking again. “…found it in old diaries from the previous proctor. Now we know what Parvus was searching for.” Tira looks at me triumphantly. “The seal. It used to be at the Lyceum.”
So hewastrying to get an artifact, and running into me was just incidental. I don’t know if that makes me feel better or worse.
“And what sort of power is that meant to have?” Leon asks. “Hopefully nothing as bad as cutting souls loose.”
Tira shakes her head. “Oh no. The story goes that after Ethira protected some of her followers on one of their journeys, the goddess Firesta blessed his seal so that it would grant him safe passage wherever hetraveled. On land, at least,” Tira leans back. “Obviously, after the business with Mariste, he wasn’t welcome on water.”
“Obviously,” Leon says with a slightly bewildered shake of his head. All this Ethiran lore is strange and foreign to him.
“You said itusedto be at Vastamae?” I ask.
“Proctor Gallis said the Lyceum sheltered the seal for centuries,” Fairon explains. “Almost no one knew its true significance—the mages thought it was just an old Trovian curiosity, something called the Traveler’s Mark. But it was secretly removed from Vastamae fifteen years ago.”
“By who?” Leon asks.
Fairon shifts, and Tira gives me a meaningful look. “That’s the big fucking surprise.”
“By our father,” Fairon says.
I can feel Leon’s shock. He’s too stunned for words, so I ask the obvious question.
“But didn’t your father…I mean, weren’t your parents murdered fifteen years ago?”
“Precisely,” Fairon says. “Gallis remembers him coming and submitting the request, though he didn’t explain why he wanted the artifact so badly. She made a note of the date—they always do when something is removed from the archive. Our father collected the seal the same week he and our mother were killed in Trova.”
From his grim expression, I can tell the crown prince doesn’t think the timing of these two events was a coincidence. I know Leon’s already spoken to Harman about looking into the truth of his parents’ murders, but are their deaths linked to the seal? I sense Leon wondering too.
I reach out across the mooring, touching Leon’s mind.
“Are you okay?”
His eyes shift to mine, and he nods, at last finding his voice. “He probably collected the seal on his way out of the country then,” he says to Fairon. “Do you think he took it to Trova?”
Fairon doesn’t quite shrug, that gesture would be too unprincely, but he does tilt his head a little. His eyes flick to Tira’s, and there’s a strange little exchange between them I don’t understand.
