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He closed his eyes and let out a shaky breath. Every swallow looked like a hill to climb. The skin along his neck still showed the angry marks of the vine, and a sudden helplessness rose in her at how little healing they had done. “You won’t like what I tell you. But it’s the truth.”

Her pulse sped, a drum in her ears. “Tell me.”

Alcaeus’s voice was quieter now, as if the words themselves might cut. “Nellith … she was one of the first.” He watched her for the reaction, for the way the news would land. “One of the firstborn when the dragons walked the world. Old as the turning of the stones. Perhaps the legends are true, perhaps she is more kin to dragons than to us.”

Cold spread through her. The world went so still, the crackle of the hearth embers filled the silence. The walls pressed inward, crowding her.

The implication pressed on her ribs: a lineage braided with old, dangerous things. The idea that destruction threaded through her family, made her feel both ancient and monstrously small.

Alcaeus tried for a smile, and it shook. “She was … the firstborn of a darkness. It runs in her veins. Dyota and you aren't her only children.”

The words struck some chord deep inside her, a resonance she didn’t yet understand. If Nellith had other children, what had she done with them? The question turned her stomach.

“How can this be?” she said.

“I can see it in you,” Alcaeus said. “Something in your eyes tells me you know this is true. She kept me captive for years. I escaped when I used Dyota against her. I wanted to take you with me, but I could not.” His memory fractured into a quiet, bitter hitch. “I’m sorry I couldn't save you then.”

“She’d never harm me." The thought arrived before reason caught it.

He shook his head. “She uses the blood of her children to extend what life she has. That is what I learned. It was the only way she kept herself. The only thing that still confounds me is why she left you.” His brow creased as if he could hold the idea against some logic and force it to make sense.

Idonea stared at him. Blood. The word echoed strangely. Her stomach tightened. Everything required pieces of her. As though somewhere along the way she'd learned that her own body was a resource to spend.

“Because of the relic,” Idonea said.

Alcaeus closed his eyes again and patted her hand through the dim. “A ploy. Some foul thing she believed would serve her purposes. I wish I had known, so I could have protected you better.”

Idonea’s lower lip trembled. “I can protect myself,” she said.

He opened his eyes and fixed her with a weary, fierce look. “I think I understand that now. But know this, I had plans. I meant to save you. You are stronger than I was, stronger than Dyota. If anyone can stand to face Nellith, it is you.” His voice hardened into a promise. “I believe that.”

She swallowed, the wordless ache of obligation and longing knotting inside her. “I will find her,” she said. “And the relic. I will find the truth.”

Alcaeus closed his eyes. "Don't try to save me, Idonea."

"Why?"

"Because I can't bear it if you die for me. I can't, I can't, I—" His voice broke. He turned his face to the wall.

Idonea knew that he would rather die than let her try.

But if he told the truth about Nellith, then she wouldn’t let him die.

Chapter 31

Inside the cottage the air was taut with expectation. Lysander had sworn up a storm, while Kitsa had watched in conflict between horror and amazement.

But it was done. Idonea had marked enough of the Lodamante for Current to breathe easy within the confines of the cottage.

Idonea shoved the table aside with a hollow scrape, clearing space in the centre of the room. Her shoulders burned from the effort, but she didn’t stop until the floorboards lay bare.

“Why does the Grand Templar leave me be?” she asked, straightening. “Why not keep pressing me?”

Lysander leaned against the wall, the candlelight painting sharp angles across his cheekbones. His arms crossed in that deceptively casual way that meant he was weighing each word before he let it leave his lips.

“He tells me little,” he said at last. “Says he is waiting for the daemon to reappear.”

Idonea frowned, knowing something didn’t add up, but she'd more pressing concerns than the Order machinations.