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His smile returned briefly, but it was bleak. “Stay with Sunburn. I fear Patria will only become more dangerous in the next twenty-four hours.”
“Yes. The king’s real spy is still here. Until you find him, we must be prepared for anything.” She clasped his forearm, then let him go.
Light wavered around Hoyefe, and he disappeared behind an invisibility spell. The door opened, then shut.
A moment of silence fell. Solia rested a hand on the mantle, her back to them.
This time tomorrow night, they would know if she had won or lost the throne.
Lio tallied the votes again in his mind. He had done it so often over the past weeks, it was a reflex. They had lost Severin’s vote. Flavian had surely gained the support of the two lords who had raised their shields tonight. Lio counted the undecideds again.
“It could go either way.” Solia voiced the same conclusion he had reached.
How much would the Dexion’s loss weigh against Flavian, with Severin’s arrest weighing in his favor? What would be stronger in the minds of the lords—how beloved Solia had been, or her sister’s shocking betrothal to a Hesperine?
Would the blame for all of it, from the missing mage to Solia’s tarnished associations, fall upon Lio and Cassia? They who ought to be her greatest defenders.
Lio might have come here out of necessity, not choice, but in these final hours, he found himself wondering how he would look his Grace-sister in the eye if he was in some way to blame for her defeat.
When had he come to care so much whether she occupied the throne? Had it been when she had made him one of her exceptions? Perhaps it had happened much earlier, and he had not wanted to admit it—the night she had stood before his Queens and so passionately defended her vision for Tenebra. The same kingdom he had always intended to make his life’s work.
Solia turned, her disciplined soldier’s expression once more fixed on her face. “We have no choice but to divide our forces. I’ll need one Steward with Sabina and me to escort Lord Hadrian back to Patria. We’ll step him here under veils in the hope of not alerting the king or his spies.”
“I can do that,” Mak offered.
Kella fastened a saddlebag onto Tilili’s back. “In that case, Lyros and I will patrol the perimeter. We should check our own defenses, even if Flavian is doubling his sentries and Master Gorgos is casting more wards.”
“Such as they are,” Lyros agreed. “Gorgos’s wards will be sufficient to keep the king’s mundane soldiers out and buy us time in case of a war mage attack. But we should strengthen the thelemantic ward with a libation in case the Collector tries anything.”
Cassia stepped forward, taking Solia’s hand. “Whatever happens to your banner tomorrow…don’t forget there is a white rose for you, too.”
Solia dropped her hand. “I want you and Lio to go meet with Kalos and join his search. We don’t know what will happen tomorrow. This might be your best chance to find the letting site.”
“Very well,” Cassia said calmly, her aura in turmoil. “We’ll return in time for the vote.”
Solia was opaque beneath the spells on her scarf. “Don’t concern yourself with the vote. Just get to the letting site.”
“What?” Cassia demanded. “You think we’ve come this far to give up now? We are your advisers—we will see this through.”
“I’m relieving you both of duty as my advisers,” Solia told them. “I don’t want you at the vote.”
Lio should have expected it, but it came as a blow nonetheless, once to him and once to Cassia, doubled in their Union. As if burned, she stepped back from her sister.
He put his arms around her, his one certainty in all of this. “We must focus on your magic now.”
THE EYES OF THE HAWK
Her skin stinging from her sister’s touch, Cassia held fast to Lio’s cool hand. The castra slipped away, and they were standing in Mederi Village, where they were to meet Kalos.
The autumn wind cut across the deserted square, tangling their robes and casting a chill over her mortal body. Lio wrapped her in his cloak, and together, they stared at the statue of her sister. He held her in silence, sharing the weight of her despair.
“Come,” Lio said at last. “Let us see what Kalos has found.”
The scout waited just outside the village. Kneeling where they had found the undead crow, he studied the ground as if reading signs there. At the edge of the deserted fields, he had an air of confidence that he never displayed in the halls of Orthros.
He leapt the low wall, crossing the wards, and dusted off his tunic and breeches. Knight leaned in his direction, sniffing, but did not leave Cassia’s side. His alert posture put her on edge, too.
“Good dog,” Kalos said.
