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“The healers say you frequently bar the doors to them. They might have done... more for you.”
Her eyes opened. “More?” She struggled against the pillows, pushing herself higher against the headboard. “More? They could have done more?”
I stood up as the bed quavered with her movements.
“What more could they have done? Could they give me my arm back? Could they restore it to me?”
“Did they say that was an impossibility?” I asked, my voice low. Such matters were not outside the realm of the possible. It depended upon the healer, yes, but just as much upon the patient. Not all fae had the potential to self-restore as I had when it came to parts of themselves. Now, I caught Lyrastra looking up at my horns, her face savage.
“Such a trivial part of you. A part you might have lived without. But me. My arm.” She met my eyes. I held her gaze, unswerving. Her voice broke, “My arm, Draven.”
“I know, Sister. It is a hard loss. I cannot imagine how great the pain must be,” I said gently.
“That’s a lie.”
I frowned. “What do you mean?”
“You’re missing half of yourself.”
My face softened. “Morgan.”
“You’ll leave us? Go to her?”
“I’ll go to her. Then I’ll go to Rychel. I must find them both, Lyrastra. Tell me you understand.”
She looked at me for a long while before she replied, “I understand.”
“There is no one better than you to leave as regent. I truly believe this, Lyrastra.”
“Things must be a dreadful mess if you have to tell me such lies.”
I made a face. “They are. Sephone was not an ideal caretaker of the empire. She avoided everything of a practical nature, caring only to sustain the court and keep its favor. The army and navy are in shambles. Our vassals across Myntra, each in their own courts, are untried and untested.”
“Should it come to war, you mean?”
I nodded. “Should it come to war.”
“So, you believe... what? That the Valtain will invade here?” Lyrastra looked incredulous. “I thought that attack was random. Fleeting. They came to retrieve something, and they left.”
“Perhaps. Perhaps not. They’ve left us alone for this long.” I hesitated. “Odessa believes they have their sights set on something else right now. Somewhereelse.”
Lyrastra looked thoughtful. “Eskira?”
I nodded. “And if that’s the case, then it’s even more reason why I must go. If Morgan has returned to Pendrath, she’s beset on all sides.”
Not to mention from within her very own family.
“What do you need me to do?”
“I need you to keep order,” I said. “To keep the court from imploding while we’re gone. To keep treachery in check. No, more than that—to root it out and stop it from gaining a foothold in our absence. By whatever means you deem necessary. You know there are those amongst us who would have no issue with infighting and backstabbing. It’s a way of life to them. But others want peace. And they deserve it. Those outside of the court, in Noctasia—the fae and the mortals alike—deserve it the most. In the past, Siabra court machinations have spilled up to the surface and infected the city like a disease. Sephone allowed this. Even encouraged it. I want you to prevent it.”
“Such a small task,” Lyrasta murmured sardonically.
“I would also have you rebuild our forces. Begin an immediate restoration program. Begin a sweeping wave of recruitment. We need the best from across Myntra. Fae or mortal. Or Bearkin for that matter. No discrimination, simply the best we can get. Request recruits from the vassal courts. Politely once, then with force if necessary. It’s the least they can do, and they should be well aware of this. Remind them that the empire’s defenses protect us all.”
“You want me to be your general?” Lyrastra said.
“Not you. You’ll have help. Odessa.”
