She nodded, trailing a finger down the book’s gilded spine. “He taught me. Used to read to me from this very book. Among its many tales, it speaks of a sanctuary deep in the glenwood, a place where people are safe.” Tenny’s eyes started getting misty again, and she inhaled through her nose. “I thought it was located in Nyrundelle. I believed him when he said it was real.”
“And do you know where your father got a book of Arcanian stories?”
Tenny shook her head. “He simply gave it to me one day. I was, oh, I don’t know, perhaps five? It wasn’t long after Ric showed up, actually. After we took him in.”
Kit pursed her lips, eyes flitting from Tenny, to the book, to Nox, and back again, her mind working to place pieces of a puzzle that didn’t quite fit. “What else does your father keep in that study of his?”
Kit spottedthe wagon and horses rolling in just after noon from her perch on her bedroom balcony. She didn’t even bother running inside, didn’t bother with the flights of stairs and winding hallways of the palace. She simply leapt over the side of the railing, silver-and-gold wings flaring wide, and relished the shouts of surprise from below as she soared over the courtyard.
“Tristan,” she breathed, landing deftly just as the wagon pulled through the gate, stablehands and attendants rushing forward.
The knight looked exhausted, his wavy blond hair limp, face crusted with dirt, dark splotches of old blood coloring his clothing. He gave Kit a nod, a slow smile stretching across his face as he slid down from the front of the wagon. For a moment, Kit thought he might have kept on sliding until he was lying flat on the ground. Thought he might have fallen asleep right then and there.
“You look like death.” Nox’s voice filtered through Kit’s ears as the nocterrian stepped out of a shadow, a wide-eyed Tenny clutching at their arm. She gasped, like she’d been holding her breath for an extended amount of time, then doubled over and braced her hands on her knees.
“I don’t think . . . shadowstepping . . . is for me,” she panted.
The nocterrian shrugged. “I told you that you were welcome to take the long route. You were the one who insisted on coming along.”
Tristan let out a rough laugh. “You’re all a sight for sore eyes, I’ll grant you that.”
“Where’re the rest of you?” Kit asked.
Tristan jerked his head toward the wagon, where several attendants helped Sephone, Thibault, and Hargrave out from the back. The two humans each lifted a hand weakly in acknowledgment before limping off toward the barracks.
“All right, I take it back,” Nox said. “Theylook like death.”
Sephone sneered at the nocterrian, but she, too, looked like she was capable of falling asleep where she stood. Her blue-black hair was pulled back in a tight bun, highlighting the severe lines of her face and the spray of the thorny tattoo on her scalp, but the dark circles under each eye dramatically lessened the impact of her scowling.
Kit peered around the edge of the wagon. “Just the four of you?” she asked, and though she knew better than to hope that she’d see her other friends again so soon, she still felt a pang of disappointment.
Sephone growled. “There was one more. We had a prisoner in tow, a fucking cultist leader, no less. But he died on the road.”
Kit blanched.Red trouble.
Tenny’s voice was something of a squeak when she said, “Asanguinagi?So your lead on the Cult of Malakar, it?—”
“Turned out to be more of a trap than a lead,” Sephone grumbled, leaning against the side of the wagon. “And then the bastard didn’t even have the decency to either die right away, or last until we got here. Noooo, he had to go and pop off in the middle of the night, after we’d already put up with his nonsensical muttering for a full day.”
“How did he die?” Tenny asked quietly.
Tristan shrugged, his shoulders moving slowly, as though they were extra heavy. “He just...didn’t wake up after the first night at camp. It was strange. We’d thought Young Shep stabilized him after the injury Ric gave him, but I guess some wounds fester beneath the surface.”
“How is Ric?” Kit asked. “Thraigg? Joss? Shep?” She bit the inside of her cheek to force herself to slow down. “Ellie?”
Tristan blinked, as though the onslaught of names confused him. “We pushed hard to make it back here as quickly as possible. We could use some food and rest, but I promise I will answer any and all of your questions.”
“You could also use some showers. In triplicate,” Nox said.
“Not. Helping,” Kit hissed. Then, turning to Sephone, she said, “No Raefe?”
Sephone folded her arms over her chest.
“Gone,” Tristan answered for her. “Elyria kicked him out of the party before we even got to Dawnspire.”
Kit tried to cover her laugh with a cough. “Sounds like Ellie.” A beat of silence. “So, she’s gone on to Elderglade, then?”
“That was the plan. Before the wicked bastard went and died on us, that damned cultist was blathering nonstop about sylvans and sunrises and some sanctuary and Varyth Malchior and—” The knight exhaled. “Seemed like all roads pointed to Elderglade. Ric was headed there anyway. A bit like fate, eh?”
