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Tuura started pouring cups of coffee. “You can all tell us what happened while I patch up Sunburn and Standstill.”
Kella kept Tilili at Solia’s side. “There’s nothing to sort out.”
“It’s almost dawn.” Cassia put a hand on Lio’s chest. “You need blood and sleep.”
“What I need,” Lio said to his Grace-sister, “is for my judgment to be trusted during a battle with the Collector.”
“I am a warrior,” Solia returned. “You’re a diplomat. I know how to make quick decisions in battle.”
“I am a mage, and if you don’t want more people to meet Pakhne’s fate, you must listen to me.”
“Would you prefer we be burying Callen right now?”
Lio’s voice rose. “We could have saved them all!”
Solia took a step closer to him. “You forget, Lio—I am also a mage, and I know when to use magic over the sword.”
“By all means, use your magic,” he shot back, “but you didn’t have to destroy every single bloodless with one spell.”
“If I hadn’t, I can’t promise Perita and the child would still be alive, either.”
“You could have bought us a little more time. Even a few more minutes, and everything would have gone differently! We could have had the thelemantic wards ready. And he wouldn’t have tried that attack if he’d still had his bloodless to wield. I could have focused all my power on saving Pakhne.”
“He took her magic and left her alive to taunt you. If you’d had hours to battle him with perfectly crafted spells, would it have ended any differently?”
“I’ll never know, because you didn’t give me a chance!”
Lio dragged his hands through his hair. Dawn was reaching for him. Curse the sun, robbing him of the last word, of the power to change anything.
“We’re not done.” Lio stepped away before he collapsed in front of Solia.
He fell onto his cot in the other room. All the endings that had not come to pass spun through his thoughts. Was this what it felt like to be an oracle, seeing visions of things you were powerless to change?
97
Days Until
AUTUMN EQUINOX
2 Anthros’s Sword, 1597 OT
WITCH OF THE WILDS
Cassia felt as if she were smothering in the great hall. Knight panted at her feet, just as miserable from the smell of unwashed Tenebran lords and the noise of their arguments. At least he didn’t understand their infuriating words.
She hated Flavian’s smooth voice as he kept order. Even more, she hated how often Solia had to bite her tongue to avoid antagonizing anyone. It was the lords, not Lio, who deserved to bear the brunt of her anger.
The Semna and Ariadne sat a few chairs away, observing the proceedings. They didn’t know. And Cassia would make sure it stayed that way until Lio woke. Telling Pakhne’s Kyrian sisters what had befallen her was a grim privilege, but Cassia knew how important it was to her Hesperine to perform that sacred duty.
It wasn’t truly the Council that was making Cassia ill. She had braced herself for it, but the longer the day wore on, the more difficult her Craving became.
Tuura shot Cassia worried glances until the diviner finally opened her mouth to speak. But Cassia cut her off with a small shake of her head. In front of Solia, there would be no mention of Cassia’s Craving or anything else that would make her sister likely to shout at her Grace again.
“I’m going to the privy.” She wasn’t; she’d barely eaten or drunk anything all day. But Cassia dared Solia to think otherwise.
“You’ll have trouble getting past the door guards before the Council adjourns,” Tuura pointed out.
“No,” Solia said to Cassia’s back, “I already told them she will be leaving early and that the Hesperine delegation will not be joining us this evening.”
