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“We set up a meeting between him and his aunt.”
“He won’t believe her,” Madinia said.
I considered what I knew about him. The day Prisca and I had traveled to Gromalia to meet with them, Eryndan had given Rekja a long, disappointed look. “You are your mother’s son,” he’d told him.
And Rekja had almost flinched.
“Perhaps he will,” Prisca said, likely remembering the same moment. “Either way, we need find a way to make the meeting happen.”
“You honestly think he’ll break from his father over this?” Madinia asked.
Prisca shrugged one shoulder. “He’s…better than Eryndan. He can be reasoned with. At the very least, it’ll sow discord between them.”
Telean nodded approvingly.
Prisca got to her feet, pacing the clearing. “What will happen to the power Regner used for the barrier if we manage to take it down?”
Galon gave a languid shrug. “It is difficult to know.”
Telean stretched out her legs. “There’s a chance it could return to the humans it was stolen from. And if that happens, we have an opportunity.”
Excitement flashed in Prisca’s eyes. “Because they believe their power was sacrificed to the gods. If some of it were returned, that would be difficult for Regner to explain.”
“And if the power doesn’t return to those it belongs to?” Madinia asked. “If it goes to whoever is closest?”
Prisca chewed on her lower lip. “That would make it easy for Regner to continue his propaganda against us.”
“It won’t,” a voice said, and Prisca jolted.
Jamic stepped out of his tent. I glanced at Galon, who shrugged. Clearly, he wasn’t worried about the over-powered boy we’d freed.
“I can feel them,” Jamic said. “All of the tiny sparks. Each spark is a soul, and the power wants to return to those souls.”
Prisca’s eyes met mine. And her smile was brilliant.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Six days after leaving Lesdryn, we arrived on the outskirts of Aranthon. None of us had been happy about the time it had taken to travel all the way to the southern fae lands. But Marth had sent Lorian’s hawk to a friend, who’d agreed he would loan us his boat to sail northeast to Daharak when we were ready to leave.
And still, we’d traveled fast, pushing our horses as hard as we could and only resting for a few hours each night. Impatience clawed at me, but I knew the summit was necessary. Lorian had explained a little about what to expect. While Conreth was still the ultimate ruler of the fae lands, they were divided into territories. And the leaders of those territories were known as wardens. They had the right to choose if they would get involved in a war that would risk their own people.
I glanced at Lorian, Rythos, Galon, and Marth. All of them had discarded their human glamour. My eyes met Lorian’s, and he gave me a wicked grin. He knew I was captivated by the sight of him in his fae form.
We approached Aranthon from the north, and my breath caught in my throat at my first sight of the city. While Quorith had dazzled with its color and vibrancy, Aranthon glimmered as elegantly as a polished pearl.
The guards wore silver, and the moment they noticed Lorian, the huge gates swung open, and they looked at him with awe in their eyes. Awe and a little fear.
The city sloped down toward the water, and I pulled my horse to a stop. A salty breeze teased my hair, and I tasted the tang of the ocean, mingled with the heady scent of jasmine and some kind of herb. The cobblestones were spotless here, practically new. I peered down at them.
“It’s a ward. Prevents Conreth’s precious city from becoming dirty.” Lorian smirked.
Madinia snorted, studying the cobblestones. She’d argued with me before we left our first camp after taking Jamic, determined to return to traveling alone. She’d heard rumors that a drunk in Gromalia knew where the third amulet was. It was incredibly unlikely that was the case, but she was determined to find it. I’d convinced her to come to the fae lands first. Not only was she excellent at reading body language, but she would be able to analyze current alliances and sniff out secrets far better than I could.
Finally, she’d agreed to come, but she wouldn’t stay more than a few days. I’d watched her closely enough to know she was running from something. And that despite her longing for family, she wanted to be alone.
Telean was brimming with energy. Ever since our conversation with Tymriel, she’d seemed younger, almost. We’d talked about my parents every day. About my mother’s wicked sense of humor and my father’s sly remarks. About how they’d been considering adding to their family before my mother was killed. If Crawyth hadn’t been destroyed, Demos and I might’ve had a younger brother or sister.
Telean glanced wide-eyed as we traveled through the city, clearly intrigued despite herself.
