The second scroll was longer, and Leo spotted the feather and the rune several times throughout. Like the first, it also had the feather in the upper right-hand corner, followed by a rune. Just as it had been on the priest’s back.
Leo looked to the flames as they wavered and hissed. The feather represented the Phoenix, he knew that. Was the second rune an adjective? A description of the Phoenix’s power? The high priestess had said that the runes meant Daughter of Fire, so did the second rune prescribe gender? Or was Saayna leading him on a wild shobu chase?
Leo racked his brain. Something nagged at him; he felt as if he had seen this rune before.
He looked at the third scroll. This one was the shortest, with no symbol other than the feather.
Leo peered closer. At the bottom of the page, written in tiny scrawl, was a familiar phrase.
So we the blessed few.
It was the phrase he always recited at the end of Ashanta ceremonies, the same one he whispered to himself before meetings with war ministers and generals. But here, at the end of the phrase, looping out of the last letter, was the second rune. A casual glance would catalog it as a mistake—a stray dash of a quill.
Before Leo could scrutinize it further, the room rumbled, indicating the hall to his study had opened. He slipped the scrolls into his desk drawer as Elena entered.
“I thought I told Arish not to let anyone in,” he said.
“Not even me, Father?”
“Don’t be coy.” The chamber remained open, but no one else came through. “Where are your guards? Where’s Yassen?”
“He went to dress his wounds.” She sat down and reached forward, picking up the metal band he had tossed aside.
Leo cursed inwardly as she held it up to the light.
“Reading something?”
He pressed his hand against the desk drawer to ensure it was fully closed before grabbing the band. “Old texts that don’t concern you,” he said and deposited the band in the drawer.
She eyed him.
“Arish is organizing a public viewing on Palace Hill to announce the engagement,” he said, wanting to forestall any other questions she might have about the library. “You should prepare a statement with Samson.”
“I will.” There was an intensity in her dark eyes, her mother’s eyes, as she leaned forward, her voice earnest. “But I need you to teach me about the fire,” she said. “Teach me how to hold the flame.”
The surrounding embers crackled as if responding to her request. But Leo knew she wasn’t ready. The last time she had tried to hold a flame, she had burned herself, and sent thick waves of choking smoke so high that it could be seen all the way from the capital. Newscasts speculated as to the cause before Leo had announced there had been no blaze; that the high priestess had come to perform a cleansing ritual in the palace.
No one could know that the heir of Ravence was not capable of withstanding fire.
Elena drummed her fingers against the desk to call back his attention.
“Not yet,” he said.
“Every heir needs to hold fire,” she said. “How can I be queen if I can’t even get through the Ashanta ceremony?”
He could not tell her the truth, not now.
Fire demanded sacrifice. A sacrifice she was not ready to give. A sacrifice she couldnotgive.
“The viewing will be tomorrow morning,” he said.
Elena sat back, her mouth a hard line and her eyes, Aahnah’s eyes, judging him.
“You’re making a mistake,” she said finally.
He said nothing.
Elena gripped the edge of his desk, a muscle working in her jaw. But after a few wordless moments, she swept out of the room.
