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“I wouldn’t. If I hadn’t seen the spellwork myself, I sure as shit wouldn’t have.”

To my surprise, Reyna huffed irritably as she slid smoothly onto the bed, lifting her son’s feet into her lap without disturbing him. A mother’s touch, I guessed. Calculating eyes drilled a hole into the floor before she turned toward me with the irritation of a cat flicking its tail. “They meant to divide us,” she deduced solemnly, shaking her head as something like a scoff slipped from her stained lips.

“Most likely.”

“Take you down with her image.”

It was all I could do to nod.

“And how, pray tell, did we learn the truth of this?”

“He revealed himself,” I said, running my hand through my hair.

“And why on earth would he do a thing like that?”

“That’s for God to know and us to figure out.” With a long-suffering sigh, I leaned forward, bracing my elbows on my knees and bowing my head into my hands to massage my throbbing temples. “Do you know anything about magic atrophy?”

“There is no such thing as magic.”

“Energy then? Call it what you want in whatever paradigm you work in. The things that we do come at a cost, don’t they?”

“Indeed.”

I filled my lungs, unable to ever feel fully satisfied. Like there was a puncture somewhere, leaking the air out as quickly as I drew it in. “Adrastos said something tonight. About their surprise that I was still fighting because the well is too vast. That atrophy was a rare condition his healers would be thrilled to study.”

“We are sittin’ in the heathen’s den. What did Nathara say?”

“I’m not asking Nathara.”

“And why is that?”

“Because if she knew about it, I assume it would’ve come up in one of our hundred conversations.”

Her lips tugged sideways, brow quirking. “Why me?”

“Because for all our differences, you are a keeper of both knowledge and righteous anger, both of which I desperately need.”

“I’ll have my healers look into it.”

I chuckled softly, equal parts disbelief and relief. “Thank you.”

“Now, if you don’t mind. I would like the room to myself to pray over my son.”

“Of course,” I said, standing stiffly. I’d have thought a body would acclimate to sleeping in chairs, but it didn’t seem to, no matter how many months I spent avoiding our bed. She passed by me; skeptical eyes trained on my face as she took my place. I stopped in the aisle between the beds, stretching my neck and back. “He’s a good young man,” I said, watching her slender throat work as she stared at him with a kind of longing I knew far too well. The ache of grief for the living. “Loyal, courageous, just. You did well with him, Reyna. With everything else on your shoulders, that is no small task.”

“I wasn’t alone,” she told me, gently running a palm over his mussed hair. “I had help. I knew when to accept it,” she added pointedly, her eyes flicking to mine.

I chuckled darkly, turning for the arched, gilded exit. My boots had only scuffed twice over the marble before she cleared her throat. I glanced over my shoulder to find her back to me, her fingers lithely brushing the hair from his face.

“Can I ask you something?” I hedged. “Adrastos said something tonight. Demanded a barter for information about the well-being of Ally and Blythe.”

“And of course you caved.”

“He told me to take Blythe with us.” When her hand stilled on Blaz’s forehead, I sucked down a steadying breath. “That was his condition. That when we lay siege to House Balaskas, we take the witch with us. Now, clearly, we’d already accounted for extracting two targets, likely in two very different locations. But it struck me as peculiar. Why do you think that is?”

She shook her head tightly, thumb stroking softly over her son’s temple.

“What can you tell me about Blythe?”