"Your turn." Quinn extended his hand to Liam.
My brother glanced at me, and I nodded. Sighing with exaggerated distress, Liam took Quinn's hand.
Both their eyes snapped shut, but their irises darted around beneath their lids, watching the memories beneath.
They broke apart in an instant. "Well," Quinn breathed. "You don't want to have anything to do with us, but at least I can be sure you won't spill our secrets."
"I hate everyone." Liam shook his hand. "Equally."
"I don't blame you." Quinn tilted his head. "Come along. Ethna will want to see you."
Relieved, I touched Liam's arm and followed Quinn down the walkway toward my mother's manor. The Tirnanog soldier stationed at the door greeted us with an Aenir salute: two fingers pressed to his chest and flicked outward.
"They've just begun," he said, pushing the door open.
"So impatient," Quinn murmured. "She couldn't wait?"
Voices drifted from down the dim hall, coming from the parlor. My mother leaned over a table, a lantern resting beside her splayed fingers. I’d been introduced to the other man in the room—the one my mother had been arguing with the day I'd arrived. He was Iceborn, with cold eyes and neat, dark hair. But he wore the uniform of Tirnanog’s generals: a deep purple surcoat with ornate silver armor patterned with our tree.
General Iosef, commander of Tirnanog's soldiers. Father had mentioned him a few times.
Bláth leaned on the far wall, tucked into the shadows. She offered me a faint smile.
"You're here. Good." Lady Ethna stabbed a knife into the map, through the heart of Fort Galasvar. “We have a foothold here.” She gestured across southern Muirashi. “But pressing forward will be difficult now that the Empire knows our secrets.”
Quinn leaned against the wall and folded his arms. “Scádes are precious. We can’t afford to lose them.”
“No, we can’t,” Ethna agreed, studying the map of Forlaith.
Iosef glared at me, silent. Accusing.
And as much as I wanted to refute him, I could not.
Their offense had failed, in no small part because of me.
“We need aid.” Iosef turned from me to my mother. “The offensive must be paused until we have more allies.”
“Allies?” I folded my arms. “Who are you thinking of, exactly?”
“Thanas.” Ethna stood. “Land of the dead. The place your brother hails from, I believe.”
Liam flinched, moving from the corner of the room to my side. He folded his arms tightly, avoiding my gaze.
"You were born beyond the wall?" I asked.
"I don't know." Liam shrugged. "I have a few memories of the place, but . . . "
"I thought your mother?—”
“Was the Witch of Aenir?” Ethna interrupted. “She is. Lachesis is from Thanas. She was exiled and fled here. Eventually, she traveled north, into Aenir.”
Nodding, I studied the map, finding Thanas far to the south, pressed against the sea. Much of Ceortha was uncharted, unknown even to those who lived here.
“Why is it called the land of the dead?” I looked up.
Quinn rubbed his neck. “They worship a goddess of death. Celebrate death. They’re not the kind of people I’d want as allies.”
“You judge too harshly,” General Iosef chided. “They stand to lose as much as we do, should Forlaith attack.”
