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Cassia’s hand went to her medallion. “I’ve felt that way ever since I became a diplomat.”
Solia crossed to sit on the bed beside Cassia. “I hate to ask you when you have fought for survival. I don’t need to.”
“That has been every moment of my life.” Cassia decided not to mention that she had nearly died of a fever when she was fourteen. It would only cause Solia to wish she had been there.
That was by far the closest to death Cassia had ever come. But clearly, that had not brought on her beast magic. If that battle for survival had not been dangerous enough, what about her more recent scrapes with death?
“If I had to point to a moment of extreme danger,” Cassia said, “it would be Lio’s and my battle with the Collector.”
“Tell me who the Collector is,” Solia demanded, “and whether he is still alive so I can use him to whet my new blade.”
“When you were spying on the king years ago, did you ever see him hold secret meetings with a sorcerer?”
“Oh, gods,” Solia swore.
“You do know him,” said Cassia.
“I still remember his voice.”
Cassia rubbed her arms. “Yes. His true voice speaks through his guises. Do you know who he is?”
“To my knowledge, an apostate necromancer, merely another rogue who practices magic without the Orders’ sanction. He and the king have been using each other for years.”
“He’s more than just a necromancer.”
Solia frowned. “He has more than one affinity?”
“Well, yes. He’s a mage of dreams as well. But that isn’t all.”
“A necromancer and a mind mage of Hypnos?” Solia shook her head. “That is too much power from the god of death and dreams.”
“The Collector has amassed his power with essential displacement—a necromantic ritual that allows him to rip magic out of one person and put it in another. Or keep it for himself.”
“I know what essential displacement is,” Solia said grimly. “That’s how he hides the king’s magic from the Mage Orders, so they won’t force Lucis off the throne and into a temple. They made a bargain. The sorcerer removes Lucis’s magic temporarily anytime there is a risk he might be discovered.”
Cassia did not wish to imagine the torture of having one’s magic ripped out and put back in over and over…or the human sacrifice required each time. “A bargain? What did Lucis promise him in return?”
“I was never able to find out. Cassia, I know that look on your face. You suspect something.”
“I think what the king promised him…was me.”
“What does that graveshit want with you?”
“The king is the smaller spider, caught in a more deadly spider’s web. This sorcerer is the Collector, the Master of Dreams—one of the six Old Masters. They are the necromancers whom the Rezayal fear will reach the Empire. In this, Dakkoul was not wrong. Tenebra and Cordium are the shadowlands, existing under the pall of the Old Masters. And we must never, ever let them reach this side of Akanthia.”
“It seems I will need more than my sword to make him pay. But make no mistake. He will pay.” Solia put her arm around Cassia’s shoulders. “Tell me about his attack on you.”
“He manifested during the Solstice Summit and tried to capture me. Lio and I defeated him together.” It was by no means the first time Cassia had spoken of the duel aloud, but it was the first time she had told Solia. When she was done with her account, she felt another layer of her terror from that night had peeled away.
“Why you?” Solia asked. “What was his plan?”
“It doesn’t matter any longer. I’m safe from him here.”
“I can keep you safe from all our enemies now.”
Cassia didn’t want to go on. These moments of trust were so precious to her that she could hardly bear to disrupt them by reminding her sister of their unresolved conflicts.
But Solia needed to know what was at stake. And if anything could motivate her to stay in Orthros, it might be this.
