“Two what?”
She smiles.
She turns and drifts back toward her wing. The air currents carry her.
I have no idea what she’s talking about, but she seems like a nut.
Maximus is at the window.The Lithenmere has opened a gap in the stone for him, the basin beyond the palace walls visible through it, the glowing mountain ranges, the impossible sky.
He turns when I come in.
“The Lithenmere appears to have walked me through the courts before letting me back here.”
I sit on the edge of the bed. The fabric adjusts.
“I met Syrenne and Ithara on the way.”
He crosses the room. Sits in the stone chair across from the bed.
“What did Syrenne say?”
“She made her case against the alliance.”
“We need to lock Tides before the convening. If we frame the contamination data as a direct threat to Fae interests…”
“We will.”
He leans back in the chair. His hands settle on the armrests.
“You’re right,” he says.
“I know.”
I hold his eyes.
“Mira saw Lanthar,” I say. “She set the pace for their relationship. He accepted it.”
He’s quiet. His thumb traces the M and C crest on his ring.
“She’ll open up,” he says. “When she’s ready.”
“She will.”
His hand extends across the gap between the chair and the bed.
I take it. His fingers close through mine, cool against cool.
“Ithara appeared out of nowhere and just said ‘two.’ That’s it. Just the number.”
His brow draws down. “What did she mean?”
“I have no idea. I think she’s a bit off,” I say.
“From what I’m told, Ithara doesn’t waste words, and she rarely speaks. It must mean something,” he says.
“Well, I don’t know what it is, and I’m feeling too tired to think about it right now.”
“You’re tired?” he asks, raising a brow.
