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Or maybe it’s time to stop hiding.
“Prophecy will always find a way.” She hesitates. “I know I have stressed the importance of your paths moving forward together, and I still believe this to be true, but while His Highness’s focus must shift to uniting Islor at the rift, I would urge you to use this invaluable time to gain knowledge.”
“You mean, stay in Ulysede while Zander goes out there? Gesine, I can’t—”
“Please, listen to me in this, I implore you.” Gesine grips my forearm, her brow furrowed. “Lucretia is the single-most valuable being at the moment. Far more valuable than I am. Her knowledge may prove vital in decisions you both must make soon enough.”
That means going back down to the crypt with that serpentine creature. “If she’ll speak to me.”
“You are her queen. It is only you she will speak to. There is still much to learn, things that she has hinted at but not explained. What of this Nulling army? She alluded to the possibility of them fighting for you.”
“All they’ve done is try to kill us so far.”
“The beast last night did not, and it knew what you were. Can you imagine if you had the might of it with you?” Her green eyes widen.
I don’t know what the rift passage even looks like, but having that massive body sitting in the middle of it would have to be a deterrent. “Neilina would think twice.”
“All would think twice. You must explore this. I will search for what I can within the pages, but I believe Lucretia will be our better source. And remember, those soldiers and lords waiting in that room for you? They do not have the depth of knowledge into caster affinities and fates. They do not know that the end of the blood curse goes hand in hand with opening the nymphaeum door. They do not know what the nymphs are capable of, both good and bad.”
“Neither do we.”
“And that is what you must find out. You are the only one who can do this, and you can’t if you are at the rift.” With a gentle squeeze of my wrist, Gesine glides down the steps, pausing to offer Zorya a pleasant smile—as if the warrior isn’t scowling—before they leave together, side by side.
“The witch’s bravery last night was commendable, I will give her that,” Jarek grumbles, falling back in line beside me as we climb the stairs toward the war room, where untold confessions await.
I hesitate, the weight of the coming conversation settling on my shoulders. “Listen, Jarek, there are some things we’ve never talked about, things you’re likely going to hear very soon, and I’d rather you hear them from me first. You’re my commander, after all.” I add after a beat. “And my friend.”
He sighs heavily. “Tell me, Romeria, do I look like a simpleton?”
An urge to crack a joke stirs, but I squash it. Now’s not the time for deflecting serious topics with humor. Not when I’m so nervous about his reaction.
He peers over his shoulder at me. “Do you think I haven’t noticed things?”
“Like what?”
“Like how you healed a fatal merth sword wound that no one should have walked away from. How you crumbled a cave’s worth of stone to save that mortal imbecile. How you ignited a ring of fire to protect mortals in an execution square in Norcaster. My favorite, though, how you launched me in the air without laying a hand on me.” He lists all the ways I’ve demonstrated my caster affinities as if he’s been cataloging them.
I don’t miss that each example is of a different affinity.
Four, to be exact.
“Or how about how your blood unlocked a kingdom sealed for tens of thousands of years, and now, according to that crypt snake, you’ve released the nymphs?” A grim chuckle sails from Jarek’s lips as he stalls at the landing to meet my wary gaze, dark humor glinting in his.
“So, you aren’t just a pretty face and a good time, is what you’re saying.”
“Give me some credit, Romeria. I have pieced together enough. I may not know the how or the why, but when the fates are involved, that hardly matters.”
“And you’re still here.” I bite my lip. “Why are you still here?” Jarek despises Ybarisans and Mordain in equal amounts, which I’m both, and he would do anything to protect Islor, which I’ve now endangered. And yet he’s stood by my side for weeks, saying nothing.
His jaw grits as he yanks the door open.
I guess we’ll finish that conversation later.
“… no reason to doubt my claim, after Braylon’s actions last night,” Kienen says, heat in his tone. “If the princess would only—”
The discussion cuts off as I step into the war room to meet the circle of stony faces. My heart pounds in my throat, but I lift my chin. “I’m sorry if I’m late. I needed a little extra rest.”
