Page 139 of Turncloak

Nissa looked down at the ash wand, as though surprised to see it there. “Oh—yes.”

“Why?”

“Paranoia, mostly. I don’t like the development of the tracing charms. I also have six registered home addresses and a fake identity should I ever need to flee to another country.”

“The tracing charms are only worrying if you have something to hide.”

Nissa did not dignify this with a response, but rather pivoted to an even more charged conversation. “I never thanked you for the inquest, did I?”

“I don’t think you’ve ever thanked anyone, period.”

“You were fantastic, you know.”

Auria fought the smile. “I know.”

“So humble too.” Nissa’s golden eyes flickered over Auria’s face as she lit yet another achullah. “You belong in the courts.”

“Are you trying to get rid of me?”

“Of course not. Who would I antagonize without you?”

“I’m sure you’d find a way.”

“Why the Grand Arbitership?” Smoke billowed from Nissa’s nostrils. Auria was coming to love the smell; crave it, almost. “With a mind like yours, you could go anywhere, be anything.”

Auria leaned back in her chair, tugging her thick robe tighter around her. “When I was young—maybe seven or eight—King Quintan became obsessed with Nyrøthi immigrants. One day he randomly decided that every Nyrøthi living in Vallin should join a register and submit to extensive background checks. Their homes searched, their lives combed through.

“He got it in his head that the Steel King was conspiring against him, that the northerners had sleeper spies in every Vallish city, probing for weaknesses in the wards, ready to open the metaphorical gates in a siege. For whatever reason, his task force took against my mother Lulí, even though she was an artist and always had been. Her parents were high up in the Nyrøthi military, and that was suspicious enough for the king. He tried to have her deported, and almost succeeded. My sister and I went to see her in this…in this cage of a wagon, along with dozens of others about to be piled onto a ship in the Bay of Silence. Sailed over the Stone Sea to Välgard, never to be returned.”

Auria shook her head at the bitter memory. She still remembered the frantic cries, the dusty summer heat, the stink of sweating bodies. The precise streak of dirt on her mother’s forehead.

“Dematus blocked the mass deportation at the last possible minute. Since then, I’ve always wanted that kind of power. To be able to prevent injustice on a larger scale. To have a say in what is considered right and wrong, and to make that match what is lawful and unlawful as closely as possible.”

Nissa took a deep pull on her achullah, and for once, Auria didn’t chastise her when ash dropped onto the parchment notes. “So Dematus wasn’t always terrible.”

“I don’t think she’s terrible now. I think the Bloodmoons must have threatened her horribly for her to be complying with their demands.”

“Ugh. Cowardice.”

Auria glared at her. “Was it cowardice when I gave in to the kingpin’s commands to save you?”

Nissa didn’t have a response for that. After she finished her achullah, she went back to the case notes—possibly the longest time the dragonblooded Wielder had ever spent reading.

Less than an hour before dawn, as the black night faded to indigo, Nissa sat up straighter.

“Hold on.”

Auria, who had entered a sort of sleepy trance, jolted. “What?”

Nissa stabbed the parchment with her forefinger, sharp nail almost shredding the surface in a way that made Auria twitch. “The blue-cloaked boy wore an eagle earring—one you’ve described at great length. Why did you snag on that detail?”

Auria sighed. “I could’ve sworn I recognized that eagle. An emblem from somewhere, something. I was hoping my subconscious would work on solving it while I slept. I often catch my mind midway through an important thought when I wake in the morning, but night shift has me too exhausted.”

Nissa’s golden eyes—the ones Auria would never look at in the same way again—glittered excitedly. “It’s not from Etherstone Apothecary, is it?”

“Yes, that’s exactly where it’s from! Saints, yes. How did you know?”

A scant vestige of the haunted expression returned to Nissa’s face. “The old lady who works there is an expert in dragonblood. She helps me ease certain symptoms.”