“The King is rumored to be having trouble finding soldier recruits,” Aren had said, his eyes flickering as he considered why such a piece of news would have been kept secret. “Maybe the crown is worried if they announced the attack, even fewer would join.”
I nodded vaguely, trying to be comforted by the idea that the attack was being covered to boost public morale—not to hide that a prince was dead.
Mother moon, when had I begun to care?
Sir Aren placed his hand on my shoulder. “As Junior Captain of the Guard, I have some connections. I’ll do some digging. I’m sure he’s fine. Kye could always fight better than most, and when he didn’t, he fought dirty instead.”
I’d smiled weakly at him, willing to indulge in his placating words, but I didn’t miss the flash of worry in his eyes, or the way he hurried off in the opposite direction as I crossed the field back to the palace.
Every day since, I’d walked down to the open windows, watching with the rest of the crowd as the guards warmed up. My eyes would meet with Aren’s, and he’d give the smallest shake of his head.
No news.
Standing outside Selena’s door, I waited.
I’d already knocked twice. Selena had sent a note claiming to have a surprise for me, likely to lure me back to studying with her. I hadn’t returned to this part of the palace since Thaan and I spoke.
My mentor had said she’d be there, but as the minutes ticked by, my eyes wandered to the dancing crane behind me, and the key inside.
The rooms were unusually dark when I let myself in. Careful to avoid knocking the burning black candle from the windowsill, I drew the curtains across their rods, iron hooks quietly squealing over the bar. Light poured in, the western sun low on the horizon. Gray water churned red in its haze.
Drifting across the sitting room, my eyes wandered over the random artifacts that made up Selena’s life. Potted plants lined slender tables in front of every window. A thick oak mantle over a stone hearth, ashes neatly swept away. Books and candles lined its surface. A knit blanket draped over the corner of her plush couch, Selena’s leather journal leaning against the armrest.
My gaze landed on it and lingered.
I’d seen it many times. Selena often kept it with her. But I’d never glanced inside. Hesitating, I cast my sense of hearing wide for the presence of sound. Empty silence answered.
Breath tight, ears open, I sat on the cushioned seat. I chewed my lip, and my eyes made a final dash toward the closed door.
I flicked the cover open.
The book slid off the side of the arm, landing flat and spread wide beside me. I became instantly disappointed.
The words inside were written in code.
Page after page I turned, but nothing was written in Calderian.
I lifted the book, flipping through the pages, scanning for a familiar letter or word—then stopped as a shape caught my eye.Flipping back, the cardstock pages thick against the pad of my thumb, I stopped.
It was a sketch of a stone.
A prism, one pointed end clear, the other shaded and scuffed with black ink like frost over a plane of glass.
I hadn’t thought of the stone in months. But I remembered it clearly. A deal made in exchange for a dead man to be brought to shore from under the sea, an icy chamber in the volcano that had almost claimed my life, and a blue glow below the water.
Curiously, I turned the page to find a rough map of the Islands of Leihani. The big island, Luaahi, and four smaller islands, shaped together like the pads of a dog’s paw.
The click of heels resounded off the stone floor just outside, and without thinking, I slammed the journal closed and stuffed it into the folds of my dress, wrenching myself to my feet. My heart pounded softly as I listened to the heels approach Selena’s door.
They came and went.
Angling my head towards the noise, I waited as whoever it was took a corner, their footsteps fading from my ears.
Where was Selena?
I peeked down the hallway, into the empty rooms Selena slept and bathed in. Doubling back, I opened the door of the shared office, and found my mentor curled up on the floor.
“Selena?” Alarm propelled my feet forward. Selena sat against Thaan’s office door, arms wrapped around her knees, her lavender-blue dress rippling out over her feet. She roused at my voice, pushing to sit upright and rub at puffy eyes. I gazed down at her incredulously.
