Page 78 of Tides of Shadows

“He lives,” I answered quietly. “Barely, but he lives.”

“Fortunate indeed,” he muttered. “I heard you slowed his bleeding. I didn’t know your power had grown so strong.”

“Neither did I,” I admitted.

“That pleases me,” he said. “I remember when your gift first awakened. I thought it would take you from us. That we’d lose you too.”

“I thought the same,” I said, bitterness threading my voice.

He cleared his throat and turned back to the maps, eager to leave the memory behind.

“We suspect one of the temples holds answers to our questions,” he said, his tone shifting to business.

“And the fourth chosen? Has anyone come forward?”

“No one rushes to boast of a bastard child,” he said dryly. “The archivists are searching the genealogies for possible heirs.”

“Must it be someone of noble blood?” I asked.

“Not necessarily. But the Families were not formed by chance. When the world was younger and the elements raged untamed, it was those who could wield them who claimed lands and built dynasties. Their bloodlines thinned over generations, but their descendants still bear the strongest affinity.”

“How can you be certain it’s someone young?”

“Each sacrifice passed its power to a descendant,” he said without hesitation. “I expect no different now.”

I studied him in silence for a moment.

“How can I help?” I asked at last.

“I know the elements call to one another,” he said, a spark of excitement in his tone. “All things seek unity. Perhaps your power can guide us. We shall try something unorthodox.”

He uncorked a flask and let a few drops of water fall upon the map.

“Try to feel it. See if it leads you somewhere.”

I closed my eyes and placed my palms upon the parchment. The droplets trembled, joined into a thin silver vein, and began to move, sliding across the map like living mercury. They shimmered, circling the Dominium until they came to rest… upon White City.

A chill brushed my skin, but nothing more.

“It returns to where it began,” I whispered.

We tried for hours, on different maps. Water was usually flowing to all well-known ancestral fortresses in the Families’ cities. Nothing new, nothing revealed.

By dusk, exhaustion weighed on me. My father remained with Roderick and the maps, I withdrew to my chambers. When I closed the door behind me, I swore I still felt the pulse of water beneath my skin.

The next morning, on my way to my father’s office, I met Dricus. He stood beneath an archway, leaning against cold stone as if waiting. When he saw me, he straightened and approached slowly.

“I heard what happened,” he said softly. His eyes held no false pity. “It was close. Had it not been for you, he would be dead.”

“Perhaps,” I murmured, lowering my gaze. “Jasmine fled the palace. They believe she’s one of the worshippers. They say she must have wielded a dark Elementar, else she could never have struck him so easily.”

“Do you trust your own people?” he asked after a pause.

“Yes. I’ve known them since childhood. And you?”

He nodded. “I trust mine. But this palace…” he glanced up at the high ceiling “is full of strangers. I’m not certain how long we should remain here. I must soon return south, the attacks are growing, and the people are afraid.” He sighed. “But thanks to your father, the Families may finally understand the gravity of this war. Some Lords have promised to send their armies to help.”

“That is good news,” I said, though my tone lacked joy.