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The sisters share one of their ‘wait-she-doesn’t-know’ looks, and my heart gives a solidthump. “What is it?”
“I guess you didn’t grow up in the Royalist circle, so you probably don’t know much about the Heir, do you?” Sera asks.
“No,” I admit and continue to scrub at my clothes.
“We know more than most,” Harmony says as if she’s trying to lessen my embarrassment.
I wave her off. “I don’t really care. He’s a dick like I said. That’s all I really need to know.”
I clearly don’t convince them as they share another one of those looks.
I scowl. “Just tell me.”
“Cristen has the ability to see lines of Fate, but it’s a burden that would drive any one person mad,” Sera explains. “I mean, try and imagine knowingeverything.” She shivers with over-dramatized disgust. “What a headache.”
“Our parents told us stories about Cristen when he was a kid. His father, the late King, would force Cristen to read the threads of the dead,” Harmony continues. She grimaces. “The King consulted our parents, and they tried to sway him in a different direction, but he kept using Cristen.”
I think back to Ferris, to making Cristen read his threads. He’d been in pain.He almost died. I suck in a breath and wring out my clothes. “Why dead people?”
“The King had a temper. Not many survived a couple of minutes in his presence unless they were devout Royalists,” Sera says. “We don’t really understand how Cristen’s ability works, we just remember our parents being distraught. They witnessed the King forcing Cristen to read the threads of a dead soldier.”
“We overheard them arguing about it,” Harmony says, her eyes staring off into nowhere as she remembers the day she and her sister eavesdropped. “Reading the threads is painful as it is. Apparently, it’s worse when the person’s dead.”
“The King would cut him if he disobeyed or was too exhausted to continue,” Sera finished with a look of disgust.
“The scars,” I say before I can stop myself. I swallow and look away. “He has scars all over his chest, maybe his whole torso. He used an illusion of tattoos to hide them.” I peer up at the sisters and find them gawking at me.
“Were you two…together?” Sera asks, her eyes wide.
I shake my head, then stop myself. “Not really. I don’t know. We certainly aren’t now.”
“And he didn’t tell you any of this? About his ability?” Harmony wonders.
I exhale and lay my clothes out to dry. “No. I didn’t even know he was the Heir of Fate.”
The sisters fall silent as they try to make sense of that.
I grimace. “What were you going to tell me about Talis?”
Harmony clears her throat and pulls herself out of the river. “Cristen uses his sister, Caya, and Talis as anchors. The King instituted it after Cristen nearly died as a kid.”
“Anchors?” My brow furrows.
“It’s a spell used often among those with powerful magic. It provides balance and allows you to do more with your abilities without pain or fatigue,” Sera explains. “But it binds your anchors to you for life. It can’t be broken once the spell is performed.”
“That seems intense,” I admit, finding a new appreciation for The Princess –or I guess Caya– and Talis.
“More than intense, considering the Heir can’t see the Fates of those he’s closest with. He’s spell-bonded with Caya and Talis, so he can’t protect them from the unknown.” Harmony shakes out her hair and begins to braid it. Her lips purse in discomfort. “I don’t envy him or his ability. I think most people do, but it’s because they think he’s all-powerful. In reality, I don’t think he can even help the people he loves the most.”
My mind whirs at that.Maybe I misjudged him. Maybe he had a damn good reason for not telling me the truth. I chew on my lip.But does that make it right?
No. I move by the fire to dry my skin and hair.A lie is still a lie.
My body dries, and I grab a stick, setting my clothes across it and holding them carefully above the fire. They steam but dry far quicker, and after fifteen minutes, I pull them on. They’re a little damp, but it’s better than the blood-covered alternative.
Sera and Harmony fall into whispers, and I choose to ignore them. More than likely, they’re plotting my death. I don’t blame them, but I also don’t want to know when, how, or where.
I step up to the small hut Harmony built and duck inside. She used leaves to create padding under her and her sister’s capes. I’m not as lucky, but sleeping on the ground is my forte.
