“She’s fine,” Evie said, standing before them, suddenly looking serious. “There’s no lasting damage, and the scarring will fade with time.” Evie took a breath. “Lord High Baron, you have said that you are in my debt, and I wish to exercise that at this time.”
“How so?” Verice’s pose didn’t change, but Warna could feel the sudden tension in his body. “What boon would you ask, Evelyn?”
“Only this, Lord High Baron,” Evelyn licked her lips, clearly nervous. “I do not ask you to grant my request. I only ask that you hear me out in all the particulars and that you speak to no one of what I am about to tell you.”
Verice frowned. “I do not understand.”
“But you will listen?” Evelyn pressed. “And you will hold this secret, both of you?”
“Of course,” Warna said. “Evie, sit and tell us.”
“Say on, Lady High Priestess,” Verice said. “Because I am certainly intrigued.”
Evelyn remained standing, shaking her head at the offer of a seat. She drew in a deep breath, and let it out slowly. “It concerns a prophecy…”
Verice listened as he’d promised. Evelyn wove an incredible tale of a dagger-star birthmark, and a child born as the Chosen, who would claim the throne from the Usurper and return justice to Palins and its people.
“You’ve found such a child?” Verice asked.
“I have,” Evelyn said with just enough hesitation that he knew there was more she wasn’t saying. “I have her well hidden, but if you desire proof, I can bring—”
“I do not doubt your word, Lady High Priestess,” Verice said.
“Just my sanity,” Evelyn said with a faint smile.
“No.” Verice shook his head. “Not even that.” He paused, then spoke deliberately. “Evelyn, I’ve lived long enough to see prophecies both fulfilled and failed. Usually by the actions of the people caught up in them.” Verice leaned forward. “Tell me, what have you besides a child and a birthmark?”
Chapter Sixty-Six
“What do you mean?” Evelyn frowned.
“It will take more than a birthmark to rend the Usurper from Palin’s throne.” Verice stood, starting to pace. “It will take men, money, support, arms, and a great deal of planning. You’ve none of that, have you?”
“No,” Evelyn sank down into a chair, looking resigned.
“Verice,” Warna said as she rose and stepped the Evelyn’s side. “If there’s any hope that we could—”
“It’s just what he’s doing to the people of Palins,” Evelyn said. “What he does every day to innocent—”
“No,” Verice said, folding his arms over his chest and shaking his head. He felt a pang for the sorrow in their eyes but on this he would not be budged. “I’ve just won a stalemate on my borders, and I must protect what is mine. My lands and my people. I cannot afford to support your cause, Lady High Priestess.”
“I acknowledge the difficulties,” Evelyn rose, her normal calm returning. “And if I should return, one day, with men, and money, and support?”
“Then I would pledge to listen and consider,” Verice said.
“I will return.” Evelyn lifted her chin, a spark of determination in her blue eyes.
“Of that, I have no doubt, Lady High Priestess.”
On the LastNight of the Festival, they gathered on the keep balcony, bringing out chairs and pillows to watch the final magical displays in the night sky.
Warna had been rather surprised to find that Verice would not be displaying his skills. Yet his reasoning was not displeasing. “No, I won’t spend my power that way,” he’d leaned closer and whispered in her ear. “I’ll save my energies for the magic we make between us.”
She’d blushed, and shivered at his breath on her skin. Even now, the memory made her tingle.
The night sky was darkening, and the guests had all gathered. Priest Dorne gave her a nod as he chose a chair close to Narthing. No formal seating this night, the Last Night of the Festival.
They’d seen smaller magics all day. They’d strolled through the courtyard filled with people showing off their prowess. Tiny creatures that played with her fingers, butterflies of vibrant colors that settled in her hair, and one enterprising young faelle that had juggled balls of fire. Warna had especially liked the dancing teapot and cups. The young mage with that idea had tried too many cups, and they’d falter as he lost his concentration, but he’d laughed with the rest at his failure.
