“No.”
I held up my hand, trying to let my mind settle the pieces into place. Tallon was a Velli bastard. He relinquished all claim to Radaan if he revealed that. Did he purposefully leave bodies behind, or was that Egath? Had he grown that unrestrained, blood-slick and reckless, or was the ambassador that poor a teacher? Or was he hiding something beneath that careful quiet?
At Reem, they would’ve tested his gift. Egath wouldn’t have swayed him to move against me unless he truly carried the magic of his people. Not rumor. Not wish. Power.
The palace.
The assassination attempt.
Blood was the answer, but not Velli blood.
I shot to my feet and braced against the washbasin. Its cool surface bit into my palms. Thoughts slammed together, jagged edges locking into place.
He was an Ichor. We had established that. He revealed his true talent during negotiations. He had fed before then—yet we never found the victim. No drained body. No husk abandoned in an alley or corridor.
Had he pulled from Egath?
He was an Ichor.
But then who controlled the men who attacked Nienna?
The memory flashed hot and metallic. Shouted orders. Panic and fury. Nienna, covered in dust and cobwebs and blood, pale with fear.
There had to be another Velli in the palace. The thought skittered through me, thin-legged and venomous. But there wasn’t. I had accounted for them all. I had mapped loyalties, traced bloodlines, watched for the faint shimmer of foreign magic.
Was there?
Which was more inconceivable: that one man held both magics inside a single body, or that another rat had slipped beneath my notice, nesting in my walls while I called myself king?
“Kallias?”
“Wait.”
My pulse hammered. Had I seen a Velli wield both gifts? Those who controlled minds were scarce as winter roses. Had one ever stood before me unnoticed? Was that why Tallon was so special to them? It wouldn’t matter that he was heir to Radaan if he possessed something far more dangerous.
The bastard prince wanted the throne. That much was clear. That was why he set us up—he was content to let her remain in Draconia while he undermined me at home. When I chased her, I handed him the opening he needed.
So why did he want her now?
He had offered the capital in exchange for her. I assumed it was for her ties to Draconia and the dragons, security of his future rule.
It didn’t line up.
Why flee instead of fight? Why race toward Vellos rather than stand his ground? Was he prepared to abandon Radaan altogether?
My fist struck the wooden stand. Pain flared across my knuckles, and I welcomed it. It narrowed the chaos in my mind to a single point.
What was I missing?
The answer hovered close enough to taste, bitter at the back of my tongue. I circled it, reached for it, lost it.
A knock broke the spiral.
Nienna crossed the floor, boots whispering over warped boards. Low voices murmured beyond the threshold. The scent of roast chicken drifted in, warm and salted, threaded with rosemary.
Elohios, guide me. What does he intend? Why run when he should be sharpening blades?
If I met him at the Craggs, would I charge headlong into an army? We had dragons. Fire would split their ranks. Velli speed meant little against wings and flame.
