I felt slightly bad about it, but whoever sent the Fae here had to be ridiculously powerful, right? They’d dealt with him once. They could do it again.
We watched Roth as they swore under their breath while stacking some weapons off to the side. I was curious what they were planning but also knew it was pointless to push them for an explanation. They’d just use their ropes to tie me up. Probably gag me too. And not in a fun way.
Roth wasn’t one to waste anyone’s time though. Whatever they were plotting would be useful.
“If Erendriel knew about this mirror,” I said slowly, “why didn’t he use you to get to it? He and his wraiths might not be able to get past the ward, but we know Moroi can because Samara has been to the stronghold.”
“We had trust issues.” Draven smirked. “He only used me in situations where he could control my actions. Once I set foot inside, he’d have no idea what I was doing. My guess is, at the time, he didn’t think it was worth the risk of me using the mirror for my own gains. But we know he’s getting desperate, so now it’s an acceptable risk for him to use Rynn.”
“Anyone else feeling really nervous that the Seelie King is becoming almost reckless in his desire to find whatever is in those mountains?” I frowned. “Up until recently, he’s been so methodical about everything. But his rush to raid the Moroi outposts to turn his people back to their Fae forms, putting all his resources into the search instead of freeing himself from prison, and now making this deal with me?”
“It definitely feels like we’re on the precipice of something,” Roth agreed.
“And since it’s Lunaria, I’m sure whatever it is won’t bode well for us.” Draven grimaced before looking around the room. “We should really add a liquor cabinet or something in here. Might help with all these foreboding conversations we keep having.”
“How confident are we that Erendriel can’t communicate with his second-in-command, Serill?” I pushed off the table and started pacing. “Or any of the wraiths that aren’t trapped with him, for that matter?”
“We’re . . . not sure,” Draven admitted.
I’ve studied the ward as best I can, Tal said. And I believe it’s still operating as intended, but I can feel cracks forming. Currently, I don’t believe Erendriel or any of the wraiths can communicate through it, but I wouldn’t entirely rule that out. What I can say with certainty is that the ward will not last.
“We always knew that would be the case, given that we only had days to form that spell.” I chewed on my lip. “Is our estimate of a year still accurate?”
Tal hesitated. I think a year is optimistic. When I examined the cracks earlier today with Roth, they felt significantly wider.
“Maybe that’s why Erendriel isn’t pushing Serill to break him out,” I thought out loud. “If Talis can feel the ward failing, it’s entirely possible Erendriel can too. He knows it’s just a matter of time.”
“If he is able to communicate with Serill in the meantime, Erendriel will tell him to watch you. You should assume that any time you set foot outside of a blood ward after today, you’re being watched.” Draven grimaced. “And if you manage to fix the mirror and get what’s on the other side . . . do not leave the safety of the wards.”
That was definitely going to be a problem since I’d need to keep whatever I found away from the Alphas. Kind of hard to do that while living with them.
That was a problem for Future Rynn.
Right now, I needed to get the mirror working.
“Has anyone ever seen something that could be the crest?” I asked.
Before I’d left Erendriel, I’d gotten a few more details about what the family crest of the Unseelie Princes looked like. It sounded vaguely familiar, but for the life of me, I couldn’t remember where I’d seen it. I’d definitely be making a trip to Drudonia soon and going through their treasury. Maybe the silver crest had been tossed in a box and forgotten about.
Everyone shook their heads.
“Talis?” I asked hopefully.
No. None of my memories of the Unseelie Princes have ever returned nor anything associated with them.
Damn it.
A memory tried to resurface before drifting away. I could have sworn I’d seen something like the crest somewhere. “Are you sure you’ve never seen it at Drudonia, Roth?”
“Nope.” They held up two axes, looking them over carefully before glancing at me and grinning. “Catch.”
My hand snapped out to grab the axe a second before it slammed into my shoulder. “Really?” I glared at Roth.
They shrugged, flipping the axe they still had in their hand with ease. Sometimes it was easy to forget my friend, Roth the Grumpy Scholar, was also Astaroth Devereux, beloved niece of House Devereux, the most unhinged and bloodthirsty of all the Moroi Houses.
Roth didn’t really fit in with their family, as they preferred books to swords. That didn’t mean they hadn’t grown up being trained with all sorts of weapons though, or that Roth wasn’t deadly in their own right.
I hefted the axe up, which was well-balanced with a short handle, feeling its weight in my hand. The silver axe-head looked sharp, and I could see the glyphs inlaid into it. One that would ensure it stayed sharp, another for overall strength so it wouldn’t shatter, and the third to make it capable of hurting wraiths even in their shadow forms.
