Page 34

CALLUM

Vincent ambled up before I’d even managed to enter the tent, his hair falling down his back in a single sheet, wavy from the braid this morning. His court regalia had been exchanged for informal brown pants and an off-white long-sleeved shirt. He raised an eyebrow as he stopped beside me, and I simply gestured inside. He chuckled and shook his head, not at all put off at my scowl as he eased into the tent—where he promptly froze, his eyes on Amethyst’s sleeping form. I dodged around him, crossing the tent so I could sit with my back against Reuben’s trunk that was now closed. Without a word, I moved the large fire jar onto the top of the trunk, clearing the rest of the space immediately beside her cot and then sinking to the floor, resting my elbows on my knees.

“I want a strudel,” I told him to break the silence, letting all my exhaustion into my voice. “Specifically one made by your sister.”

His eyes finally left the omega I’d selected and coasted over me. He raised an eyebrow and smirked. “Just one? You seem more stressed than that.”

“At least one, yes,” I said with a smile of my own. I patted the open canvas floor beside me. Vincent joined without protest, crossing his legs and pulling his hair over his shoulder so it didn’t get pinned against the trunk. His eyes were bright with interest as his gaze flicked between me and Amethyst multiple times. Our nearly foot of height difference was not noticeable as much when we were seated, and so I was treated to every small flex of expression as he decided if he wanted to bring up what I knew must be racing through his mind.

After a full minute, he said, “Rumor floating is that she’s Alholím.”

So he did want to bring it up.

Had I noticed her coloring, the black hair and gray eyes and pale skin? Of course. But…

“The Alholím were killed in the Great War,” I said as I closed my eyes.

“Well, yes, but that doesn’t change what those who saw her are saying.” Vincent snorted. “I also don’t hear you denying it. Is she?”

I shrugged. She had magic that I could sense, but it wasn’t of a nature I’d experienced before. The most similar was Enoch—one of the few Seaphin I’d actually encountered long enough to sense their magic—and yet it wasn’t even near the same, like trying to compare a songbird with the acora. That wasn’t something even Vincent needed to know, though. Her magic was hers to reveal as she wished. For some, it was something quite personal, something they only divulged to trusted individuals.

“She has a translation tattoo. I doubt she could be given that,” I said instead.

The Alholím had lived on the southern continent, in the highest mountains that split the kingdoms of Sepra and Varím. If she had come from there, she would not have required a translation of Alwesh, the common tongue. At least her having one meant she would understand our court’s language, Nyndrec, as it was customary to give the five court languages when laying a translation tattoo for omegas that came from the Far Lands.

“She’s well now?” Vincent moved away from the uncertainty of her heritage. “Those that saw her say her leg was bad.”

“Better,” I said, “but not well. Her head was affected, too.”

“So she was injured on Magefall? That’s not allowed.” Vincent’s voice was politely incredulous rather than outright disbelieving.

I shrugged, still not opening my eyes. “She fell while attempting to climb a fallen ludian tree that was in her way. She’d grown restless after her sister had been selected by someone else.”

Vincent stilled beside me, and I counted the seconds until he no longer held back the hundred different questions those two sentences would have swirling in his mind. He didn’t even make it to five. I almost chuckled at his lack of control. Almost.

“She joined the Rite with a sister who was picked by a different kingdom?” He blew out a breath. “Holy Asher, I hope it’s Tousir or Senona. The Southern continent will be a nightmare to negotiate with.”

“May Asher have mercy on us indeed,” I said, invoking the God of Luck. “I suppose we will find out when the Votarist arrives.”

Since we had been first to be verified yesterday, we would be last for the final selection confirmation tonight. We would know where Amethyst’s sister had ended up and how much communication we could hope to maintain before she ever woke up.

Vincent’s chuckle cut through the new silence. I frowned but didn’t open my eyes.

“The earth isn’t reaching,” he said.

Oh, that.

“It stopped once I interacted with Amethyst,” I admitted, thinking back over how the tendrils of magic dropped away from me the moment I stepped into that clearing. Not the reluctant retreat this morning before entering Magefall, but a complete drop, the magic settling under my feet until it felt as it had only a couple days ago during my morning prayers.

“I wonder what the gods have in store,” Vincent mused, “for them to guide you to her. A sister when there have been no double entrants in seventy years. I’ve never heard of them being separated across kingdoms, either.”

That reality was just another weight on my shoulders, something I would need to sort through that I had no energy or desire to handle right now.

“Your Highness?” It was Tegan, another of my personal guard, his voice that nervous pitch that the Votarists incited in some.

I swallowed back a groan and eased to my feet. I didn’t have my circlet, but the Votarist would most likely not care I wasn’t in full court regalia. Hopefully Simeon didn’t learn I accommodated a Votarist while in half-dress. I had no interest in being subject to one of his unimpressed, withering looks while Amethyst was still unconscious and unwell.

“I am here, Tegan,” I said, raising my voice just enough to be heard outside of the thick tent walls.