CHAPTER FIVE
Threadsight is a dangerous gift. I fear it more than what I’ve seen with it.
—Journal of Khato, Master of Spells.
The salty teakwood of theEvectafilled my lungs as I heaved a sigh, letting the scent steady me. Tiberius and I had escorted Vander back to the Gulley from Pyracantha after the queen’s orders had been relayed. He’d regained consciousness, and though he was sore from being bloodied up, he seemed in good spirits, as was typical with my old friend.
Vulcan and Nerissa paced where we met below deck to discuss my careless actions. Nerissa had chewed me up and spit me out for the better part of the hour. How I should have waited for her, waited for Isla, for Vulcan… Forany elfto witness my conversation. But I knew it would have been too late. The menders were too close to burning those bones. I didn’t point that out as a fire raged in Nerissa, ready to send theEvectaup in flames.
Vulcan grunted his agreement on several occasions, shaking his freshly shaved head. He’d sheared his blonde hair as soonas we’d arrived in the Land of Light and Life, with an elaborate design cut into the side of his head.
Isla was silent and pensive as her amber eyes stared into the distance during Nerissa’s rant, giving my hand an encouraging squeeze.
“She saved Vander’s life,” Drystan cut in, his ebony brows narrowed at Nerissa as his hands made jerky movements, communicating the words. Drystan had known Van from our youth as well.
I shot him a grateful look as he crossed his arms.
Ronan sat in one of the chairs with his feet on the table, as at ease as he ever had been on board theEvecta. Back when he was truly a part of the crew. Though I sensed his apprehension about this deal with the queen, relief shone in his eyes.
“Drystan’s right.” Isla nodded, sliding her eyes to Nerissa.
“We have enough problems as it is,” Nerissa interjected, cutting a glare at Ronan. “Figuring out how to get back to Sultira, dethroning King Saros, stopping the tribute, surviving while we’re here.” Her eyes sliced to mine. “Not to mention the ashen and Dark King Daimos.”
“Exactly,” Ronan cut in. “And Lyvia prevented a huge shit storm from landing in our lap.”
Marian sat in the corner, listening, watching. She’d refused to make eye contact since Oslo’s death. I had nightmares about that moment every night. The grief and guilt stormed inside of me during the day, mixing with my rage for King Saros and Dark King Daimos, swirling with the pressure of mastering these new powers, and finally colliding with that small bud of resentment toward Bayne, toward all of them, for concealing the truth from me for months, adding to the stack of betrayals that built up over the past year.
“Lyvia.”
My head jerked up as Isla’s elbow dug into my side. Nerissa gawked at me, eyes wide in disbelief at my inattentiveness. Ronan snorted from my other side.
“I’m sorry,” I murmured, rubbing my eyes. “It’s been a long day.”
“I take it the attempt this morning on the ashen didn’t go so well,” Isla said softly.
Nerissa stormed from the small cabin, followed by Vulcan and Marian. I let loose a sigh.
“What are we going to do about the queen?” Drystan asked, his almond-shaped, blue eyes thoughtful.
I let my head fall into my hands and groaned. Drystan gave my shoulder a squeeze.
“An air oath with the queen was dangerous. Maybe a little reckless, but I agree it was necessary. She didn’t give you much choice. And youneedto figure out how to master the Transcindiel power. Here’s the thing about Queen Antares,” Isla murmured as she signed the words, “she’s not innocent. She’s spilled so much blood over the past three centuries, murdered many, many powerful elves. But…” she paused, voice becoming quieter. “She is incredibly powerful. She is agiftedmystic. If she weren’t so horrible, I’d beg to train with her myself. You’re stuck in this deal, but you may learn something. Maybe you need a different teacher, anyways.” Her voice softened at the end.
My heart squeezed, and I gripped her hand as I shook my head. I’d gotten nowhere with the basic arts. The wind shuddered in response to my command, like a wall had been put up. The water stilled, as if a sheet of ice froze over a pond. Spells were a nightmare, repeating the old elven words with no result. And tree singing? Every attempt left me exhausted. Though it was one of the few times the Transcindiel power’s song rose up and then stuttered, its voice caught.
My one redeeming quality had always been my ability to learn. My ability to be a student, to be honed into something new. Studying with the Death Scholars had given me identity, allowed me to funnel that desire to learn into the delusion that I’d one day escape my fate as a lady-in-waiting. And though my fate indeed changed course since my discovery of Enya’s burial chamber, I still had no idea who I was. My identity had crumbled.
And I had utterly failed at learning the forgotten arts. It wasn’t Isla’s fault. She’d been the best instructor and had already taught Drystan so much. He’d mastered the basics in days aboard theEvectabefore they’d come to rescue me on Kayj. I opened my mouth to voice as much, but she held up a hand.
“I’m simply saying, sometimes it helps to hear it from someone else. She’s powerful. She’s also crafty. You must be careful. Take in as much knowledge as you can and reveal as little as possible.”
I nodded, chewing on her words.
“And she’ll try to throw you off. Whatever she says, even if it seems irrelevant, everything is intentional with her. She is power hungry, and she’ll do anything she can to grow her strength. She may be psychotic, but she’s brilliant.”
A weight settled in my stomach.
“I wish you could have examined the bones with me,” I signed to Drystan, shaking my head. “The markings on her skull seemedwrong.”
