Sylvane gives a low bow. “An honor to enlighten the King's Favored One.”
I force myself not to outwardly cringe at being called that, even though I’m the one who said it first. Reave's favor toward me may or may not be genuine, but either way, I don't want this entire city reducing me to such titles.
“Until next time,” Lady Sylvane calls after us.
I don't look back, keeping my gaze straight ahead until we're back on the abandoned royal road and the temple is swallowed by the distance behind us. Only then do I try to make sense of what we just encountered.
“Did you feel something strange while we were in there?”
Briar pulls her cloak more tightly around her shoulders. “It was eerie, I suppose. And Lady Sylvane seems like she could stand to get out more. What do you mean bystrange?”
“Like something was pressing down on my chest every time I got close to the Flame’s empty vessel. Something about that door beneath it…”
She gives me a quizzical look.
“It was…never mind.” I exhale slowly.
We walk in silence for a minute.
“Where is Sesca?” Briar wonders, shielding her eyes from the rising sun as she looks up.
I don't see the dragon either, and she doesn't immediately answer when I reach for her through our bond. A hint of panic begins to needle at me, but it doesn't have time to settle before I catch a glimpse of her tail flicking out of the clouds, followed by the rest of her as she flips and dives toward us.
“You were supposed to be serving as a lookout for us,” I call softly—but loud enough that her supernatural hearing will have no problem picking it up.
Something dark and heavy hovers around that temple,she replies, turning a few more flips before climbing higher once more.I didn't like it there.
So I wasn't imagining that terrible heaviness. And maybe this is proof of our growing bond, that I can sense such things the way a dragon might. Something that should cast apositive light on this unsettling trip—though I don't feel as if I've accomplished much at all.
Sesca continues her acrobatics as we move back toward the palace. She seems restless, like she's trying to shake the feeling of that temple off with every hard twist and violent change in direction she makes.
Briar and I don't speak much. Partly because our cloaks are drawn so tightly around our faces, helping to hide our identities and muffling any speech, but mostly because I can't get out of my own head long enough to hold a conversation.
Weeks ago, I swore I would tear this kingdom down from the inside out.
A simple enough goal when I started, I thought. I didn't expect to find so many layers to its king and its history. Didn't expect to find myself caring about the hows and whys of what it's become.
But now I find myself wondering if the core is already rotten—if Mouren has been unraveling from the inside out since long before I arrived.
Is that why Sesca reads sorrow in the soul of its king?
Sorrow.
The word strikes like a lit match. Because all at once I realize:That'swhat I felt when I looked at the sealed door. A deep, gut-wrenching grief. One powerful enough that it nearly stops my heart, even now, just from recalling it.
Chills race across my skin. They still haven't settled by the time we make it back to the palace. Briar and I make plans to discuss the morning's events later on, after we've had time to catch up on our sleep. She curses me one last time for making her get up so early, then shuffles off in the direction of her bed, promising consequences if I interrupt her rest.
I should follow her lead, I know.
Instead, I find myself following Sesca as she soars in wide, restless circles overhead. I watch her arc and bank and level out, her great wings catching the morning light in an increasingly mesmerizing display.
Eventually, she lands before me, fixing me with a look that rivals the stern ones Marta used to give me.
You're tired.
“Exhausted,” I agree. “But before I rest, I have a question.”
She settles her wings against her body and waits, her tail curling tightly around herself, the tip of it thumping with continued agitation.
