Laughter breaks brittle in his throat. He can’t suggest anything to Ronan now.
“What is it?” Captain Tanner asks beside him.
Karis shakes his head. “Nothing. Just—just thinking it’s weird to be back.”
She doesn’t know him well enough to hear how strange his voice is. “I’ll take you to the healers first, to check you over. Then, you should rest at the barracks before talking to—”
A priest in white hurries down the northern staircase. The gold braid on his robe denotes his position as a high priest, but right now he looks more like an errand boy. “Light guide you, Captain Tanner,” he says, giving a gesture of blessing as he draws near. “The Exalted One asked to have the boy brought to him, as soon as you arrived.”
Captain Tanner frowns. “We just rode in this minute, Brother Gilbert. I’ll get him there within the hour.”
“My apologies, Captain.” His tone is polite, but the insistence is clear.
Karis steps forward when Captain Tanner looks like she’s gearing up for an argument. Nice of her to stand up for him, but it’s not like he needs to see healers or doctors anyway. He isn’t hurt—not in ways they can fix.
“It’s fine, Captain.” Karis lifts his chin, and arrogance settles over his shoulders like armor, protecting him from how very alone he feels. He waves his hand presumptuously towards the stairs and orders the high priest, “Take me to Neradt.”
?
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
RONAN
Every room in the Veiled Rose smells of smoke and perfume, the fragrance ingrained indelibly into the furniture. Bring five humans and a cat into a suite, and the stuffy atmosphere only deteriorates. Opening the windows would help, but Dansa only barely cracks them open when the stuffiness is unbearable. Wards work better on sealed rooms, when physical and magical functions align.
The round table under the window isn’t big enough for all five of them to gather around. Instead, Ronan sits on the floor, leaning back against the foot of the bed. His remaining co-conspirators sit on the floor around him. Alice pads over to rub her face against his knee until he gives into her demands and scratches her chin.
In a corner of the room sit five telliron boxes. It’s very strange seeing the relics of Vara, Sephine, Maiza, Ka Dravos, and Songbird in a brothel, no matter how upscale a brothel it is.
Ronan has been in Ostaris for half an hour. He’s been in this room for five minutes. Bone-tired and heart-sore, but with all the terrible things he’s done for this mission, he’ll have wasted them all if he doesn’t devote himself entirely. He hasn’t earned his rest yet.
Melanne’s absence is a shroud over the group.
“Evain filled me in while we traveled,” Ronan says. Alice disappears under the bed, her chin-scratching needs satisfied. “What’s happened since he split off from you?”
“Nothing,” Coira spits. She’s the only one standing, shifting her weight in front of the window. Her brittle gaze darts from the gap in the curtains to Ronan. “Fucking nothing. They’ve got Melanne somewhere I can’t fire-step to, and this fucking asshole won’t let medoanything.” She points at Dansa with murder in her eyes.
Dansa doesn’t respond from her seat next to Ronan. Where Coira is furious, Dansa is subdued. She didn’t greet Ronan with her usual cheerful hug when he returned. She just frowned and asked where Karis was. And she didn’t ask for clarification when Ronan said, “I left him with someone.”
Ronan clears his throat. “Dansa was right, and you know it. Would your sister want you to run into Fort Tarhaeg without a plan? Would she want you to get yourself killed for her?”
The embers dim in Coira’s eyes. “I saw her through the door.” Her voice is quieter, but no less sharp; the edges just cut inward now. “She looked at me, and I saw the Dravans closing in on her. They aren’t the ones who broke the spell, they didn’t interrupt her. She closed the door herself before they could step through.”
“She wanted to protect you,” Dansa says. “All of us, but especially you.”
“I never asked her to protect me.” Coira rubs her thumb under her red eyes, but no tears fall. She finally sits down between Dansa and Leth. “Fuck. I’d have done the same, maybe. But I still wish she hadn’t.” She looks at Ronan again. “We need to find her.”
Dansa places a hand on her shoulder and doesn’t say anything.
“Have you been able to reach her?” Ronan asks.
Coira’s lips tremble, but her voice is steady. “I haven’t, and I know what that means. We still have to find her.”
“We will,” Ronan promises. “But if we run into Tarhaeg again right now, we’ll lose more of us. Our first priority is breaking the binding. Once that’s broken, the Dravans and Varans and everyone else will be in chaos.” He raps his knuckles on the floor. “Evain said you three intended to try the unbinding while he was fetching me. From the lack of social upheaval as we rode into Ostaris, I’m guessing it hasn’t worked.”
“I didn’t expect it to.” Leth is as soft-spoken as ever, and only the faint circles under his eyes hint at any exhaustion or distress. “I just wanted to confirm a few assumptions.”
Next to Ronan, he has the best understanding of the binding spell itself. Not contracted with any god or demon, he has more practice working outside of specific jurisdictions than the rest of the team. Plus, he grew up with the privilege of the Tariel library.
