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Mrak nodded. “Trustednow.”
Karn chuckled lightly—and tightly. “If we are for full transparency, I did once work for Mrak’s brother. But times have changed, and I am happy to put my service toward the rightful ruler of Kithonia.”
I tried not to wear my surprise on my face. I had no idea if I succeeded. I hadn’t really known Mrak all that long in the grand scheme of things, but that he’d trust someone who’d once worked with his brother, whom he hated so very much, didn’t sit right with me. Still, I could be diplomatic when need be. “I’m sure Mrak is grateful for your particular knowledge, then.”
Karn’s grin grew. He turned to Mrak. “I like her.”
Mrak’s expression softened the slightest bit. “Aisling is one of a kind.”
Nodding, Karn moved around the stone table in the center of the room and took a seat. Spread across the table was a map of what I assumed to be the surrounding areas of Kithonia, adorned with pieces representing what appeared to be at least one city and various outposts. And armies, I realized.
“You’re preparing for war,” I said before either one of them said anything. “Against your brother, I presume.”
Mrak nodded. “Soon, ideally. No doubt he’s been made aware of the portal from Earth to here.”
“We heard others had come through,” I pointed out.
Karn leaned over the table, a knot curling his brow. “Sylas has people who can track those portals. The one you made with Mrak would’ve been unplanned for. The return of an exiled king will make the gossip rounds quickly.”
“We’ll act fast,” Mrak said. “You have people. I still have followers. And now…”
Mrak trailed off, looking at me. I wasn’t sure why. He could call me his queen all he wanted—I could be that for him all I wanted—but I was human. Having a human for a queen would probably not strengthen his position. Even I could admit that.
“We can cross that bridge when necessary, Mrak,” Karn said carefully, as if this very matter of a queen had come up far too often before this moment.
“I willnottake another,” Mrak warned, a bite in his tone so sharp, it sent shivers down my spine. “Aisling is my queen.”
Karn nodded slowly. “I understand that, and as I said, we will deal with that when it is time to. For now, there is another matter at hand.”
Mrak pressed his palms flat against the stone table. I took that as a cue that it was safe to sit and did so before my suddenly shaky legs gave out. To be with Mrak in an ethereal sense was one thing. But to see him now in his true form, inhisworld, while talking of royalty and war and politics, was a different experience altogether. I’d always known Mrak as this dark entity, mildly possessive—and fiercely protective of me. Now, I saw him as he’d been before his exile: a king struggling to keep his power.
I wanted to help him do that however I could. It was the least I owed him for saving my life. It was everything I wanted to give him for the love between us.
“Is Sylas already moving to oppose me?” Mrak asked.
Karn pointed to an outpost on the map outside what appeared to be the major city in this area. “He’s taken Irenya. A bold statement, if I may.”
Mrak’s massive jaw worked hard. “Our mother’s home.”
“Long ago,” Karn pointed out.
“It doesn’t matter,” Mrak snapped. “It’s a warning.”
Karn shook his head. “An opportunity, actually.”
Mrak growled deep in his throat before pushing off from the table in a violent motion that made me jump. “How can losing Irenya to my bastard brother be anopportunity?”
“Because refugees are coming here to seek your help,” Karn said. “Word of your arrival has indeed spread like the carnelian starlight. If we take them in—and I see no reason why we shouldn’t—your brother’s brash actions will give you all the goodwill with your people that you—”
“That Iwhat?” Mrak hissed.
I bit my lip, seeing where this was going before Karn had explained. Mrak had told me enough of his history to know that he hadn’t always been the most loved king.
“May have benefited from before your exile,” Karn said simply. “That is all. Welcome them. Give them safety and shelter. Walk amongst them. You will win numbers to your side that you desperately need if you are to retake the throne from Sylas.”
Karn was right. At least, he sounded right. I didn’t know the full extent of the situation, but from my limited knowledge, it seemed like Mrak needed all the goodwill he could muster. He’d been exiled for over a decade, long enough for the book containing the spell to summon him—and the object that had likely anchored his exile—to have ended up in Lazarus’s library. That had been eleven years ago.
Mrak paced the room quietly for a few minutes. A hard knot settled deep in my throat. I wished we could still communicate telepathically so I could know what he was thinking or what was okay to say in front of Karn. I might’ve believed anything was free game except for the hesitation I’d seen quickly disappear from Mrak’s expression at Karn’s self-introduction.
