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“But has he made a public appearance since?”

Croll shook his head.

Draven’s frown deepened. “You mentioned something about recent expansions. Has Reatia not grown in the time I’ve been asleep?”

“No. The village of Cara was the last attempt the emperor made to grow the empire.”

The night Draven died. “Do you know why?”

“The royal family is very private,” Croll said. “I cannot begin to speculate.”

Valen hadn’t been seen alive for thirty years. A new Hazevale was in power, continuing Valen’s abandoned vision for reasons unknown…

Draven sighed. He may carry the god of fear, but the curious influence of its opposite was going to be the thing that forced him to leave this cave. He pictured Kyer’s smug, knowing face and grew even more irritated.

It wasn’t so much what he’d left behind that he wanted to see, rather what moved on without him.

“I assume Brialis resides in Failen,” Draven wondered aloud. “At the palace?”

Croll paused. “You’d be correct, my Lord, but returning… is that wise?”

“As long as she doesn’t expect a visit from me,” Draven said, pointedly. Croll dropped his gaze and shook his head again. “Then you are forgiven, Croll of Whitlock. I bear no resentment for these men coming in and interrupting your duty.”

Croll’s fear dipped to a dimmer shade of green. “I was referring to the weather, sir. Winter is upon us, and it’s impossible to travel higher in elevation in the snow. My employer from Reave has transportation, but they dropped off my supplies for the season already and will not come until the blizzards slow in the spring.”

Draven’s gaze wandered to the other side of the room, lingering on the shadows of the lantern. He closed his eyes, releasing the Serpent and asking it to take him to that spot. It eagerly obeyed, and when he opened his eyes, he was behind Croll, where he wanted to be. “Getting there shouldn’t be a problem. But I could use some help navigating Failen. I don’t imagine the city resembles what I knew it as.”

Croll started, spinning around with eyes wide. “I… don’t know how much help I can be. I’ve only visited the capital once.”

“The palace. Ironfall, is it still standing?”

“There have been minor renovations over the years, but yes, it is still intact.”

Good. There was something within he knew withstood the passage of time.

“Get off the mountain while you can. If the Swarm discovers you here, I worry you may be killed.” Kyer’s letter weighed heavy in his pocket. “From what I understand, there’s a village to the south of here. You may be safe there.”

Draven vanished in his own shadow.

Chapter Eight

“Again.”

Alister’s command sounded exactly like the dozen before it. Draven had been gripping a sword for hours, and unlike Caine, he didn’t wear blisters like a mark of honor.

It was a rare warm day this late in fall, and Draven would’ve rather spent it anywhere else.

“Are you deaf?” Alister goaded. “Do it again.”

Draven imagined hurling the curved blade across the yard. Instead, he simply lowered it and headed back to the rack.

The Escardian huffed. “So you’re done?”

“I’m tired.”

“I’ll be sure to inform your father that the key to securing his era of longevity and peace in a mere two moons time, is not finishing this set.”

“Don’t forget to mention that I graced you with my presence on my day off.”