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He nodded.

She stood.

"Eskarin."

"Yes."

"If she is alive." She did not look at him. "If somehow she is alive and the Arrolyn reaches her and she becomes strong enough to wield it." She paused. "I need you to tell me the moment you know. Before anyone else."

He looked at her for a long time.

"Yes," he said.

She went back inside.

The palace was still awake, still processing, still unable to put itself back together. She walked through it and did not stop for anyone.

She had a letter to write.

Kelsey Castle

SEVRIN

Kelsey Castle, Morrath

The ceiling of Kelsey Castle was not the ceiling of Rathmor Palace.

He had stared at enough ceilings to know the difference. This one was older. Lower. It carried the particular quality of stone that had absorbed centuries of damp and never fully dried.

He lay still and did not move.

The wound was dressed. Someone had been diligent about it. The linen was clean, recently changed, the knot at his shoulder precise in a way that suggested a healer rather than a soldier. His chest ached with a deep internal wrongness he recognized as Yorali work. It would take time. He had time.

He turned his head.

A woman stood near the window. Gold eyes. Dark hair. He placed her after a moment.

Nox.

"Why are you here?" he said.

She looked at him the way someone looked at a problem they had not yet decided was worth solving. "The healing pools," she said. "Axar mentioned them."

"Axar sent you?"

"Axar mentioned them," she said again.

"That was not an answer."

She looked at him coldly. "You're too weak to demand anything, that includes answers."

He looked down at the bandage on his chest and realized with a grimace that she was right.

Then he paused.

"You are not a feeder. How are you here?"

She smiled. "Because you are not as smart as you think you are, King Sevrin. Perhaps I am a feeder."