Once we were deep into another alley, I grabbed my mother’s elbow, forcing her to stop. “Wait. What’s going on? Why were you in the sewer? Why were you?—”
“One question at a time, Seren,” she snapped. Then, her eyes softened, and she cupped my cheek. “I’m sorry. You don’t need to put yourself in any more danger, my love.” She gave an anxious glance back in the direction we’d come. “I thought I sensed …”
I waited, but she didn’t finish.
Amahle and I exchanged a look. Something was wrong.
My mother blinked again and frowned, as if shaking off whatever had distracted her. When she looked at me again, the vulnerability had vanished, replaced by cool disapproval. “No matter. What did you need me for?”
Amahle shifted with discomfort. “I’m going to give you two a moment.”
She walked away before my mother or I could protest.
“Glad to know you’re having my friends spy on me,” I muttered, thoroughly confused by my mother’s behavior.
My mother bristled, her face shadowed by grief and fear. “We’re in grave danger here, Seren. More than you could possibly understand. You’re facing the deadliest of trials tomorrow. Esme, Madoc, Tara … I’m helpless to aid any of my children and I’m doing the best I can. To honor my oaths, to find out what’s happened to your father …” Her hands were shaking, now.
“I don’t know what more I can do,” Mother went on, more flustered than I’d ever seen her. “I have to do something. I have to help.”
But why in the sewers? That didn’t make sense.
I caught her by the arms, then pulled her into my embrace. She had always been so strong. So competent. I’d never been the one comforting her. Yet I understood her pain and her struggles. Her sorrow.
Maybe Tara, my mother, and I all carried the grief differently, but it had consumed us all the past six weeks. I’d been so wrapped up in my own pain, in the way I had made everything worse, that I hadn’t seen how much she was cracking at the seams.
Over Esme. Over Madoc and my father. Over all of us.
I kissed her cheek, gently, then pulled away from her. “I love you,” I said, my voice trembling.
“Oh, my darling.” My mother sounded as broken as I felt. “I love you too. So much more than you will ever know. There is nothing I wouldn’t do for any of my children—I hope you understand that.”
My powers are failing me, I wanted to tell her.
Help me.
But she was burdened enough.
“What did you need?” my mother asked, sniffling and attempting to pull herself together.
“I—” I drew a breath, then chose the safest question. “I wanted to ask about Haldron. Rykr said he’s King Magnus’s brother. In the line of succession.”
Her face darkened. “He’s right,” she said softly. “But you should be careful who you share that information with. Rykr should be careful, too.”
I closed my eyes, absorbing the information. Despite not wanting to believe Rykr, I’d known he was telling the truth.
Which likely meant everything else was true, too.
War was coming.
Rykr had to leave.
But before that, I had to face the Skorn. And my powers were failing.
My hands still tingled, the numbness now crawling up to my elbows. Emberstone’s wards couldn’t explain this—my magic had never faltered, not even in the most hostile conditions. It wasn’t just unsettling. It was terrifying.
My magic was more than a tool. It was part of who I was, part of what made me valuable—to my tribe, to myself. My secret weapon to survive.
I couldn’t rely on anyone else to save me now. Not my mother, not Rykr.
