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I looked away, my aching jaw tight. Gods, he sounded as if he meant it, and I didn’t know what to do with that when I preferred he not know what it would take.
“I need to leave,” he said, clearing his throat, but a thickness lingered. “Staying so long without being discovered is luck I should not continue to push.”
Nodding, I faced him as something I’d wondered about earlier resurfaced. “Can I ask you something first?”
“Of course.”
“Does Sotoria’s name mean anything in the language of the Ancients and Primals? I know that so’ means my,” I explained when the skin at the corners of his eyes creased. “And I just thought that perhaps her name meant something. Like it’s two words joined together.”
“Like Kolis’?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“It does. Or did.” He exhaled heavily, dragging his thumb over the base of his throat. “It’s from the oldest of our language. Toria had a few meanings. One meant garden. Another could be loosely translated into pretty flower.” He smiled then, but no dimple appeared, and I couldn’t help but think of what Sotoria had been doing when she died. She’d been picking flowers. “But a more exact translation is poppy.”
“Like the mortal flower?” I thought of the ones that had started to grow again in the Shadowlands. “Or the silver ones?”
“I believe it once referenced the mortal flower, but it could’ve been describing either.”
My brows lifted. “So, Sotoria’s name could be translated into my pretty…” A strange shiver curled its way down my spine. “My pretty poppy?”
Attes nodded. “Or my pretty garden.”
“Oh,” I whispered.
He studied me. “Does something about that translation bother you?”
Yes, but…
“No.” I shook my head, unsure where the feeling of unease had come from or why. “I do have another request for you.”
“Anything.”
I smiled wryly at that. “Find me a weapon made of the bones of the Ancients.”
His head tipped to the side. “Seraphena…”
“I am not going to take any unnecessary risks. I swear.”
The purse of his lips said he doubted my oath.
“But if there comes a time when the only thing left is to take a risk? I want to have something that can kill him, or incapacitate him at the very least,” I said, and could tell he knew what I meant. “It doesn’t hurt to try, does it?”
“No, I suppose not,” he said. “But you have to be careful with such a weapon. And I say that not because I think you cannot handle one,” he added when I opened my mouth. “You cannot touch the bone itself without causing pain. A hilt would need to be crafted, which isn’t a problem. What is an issue is where you would hide it on your person.”
Considering the transparency of my clothing, he had a point. “I can hide one here.”
He exhaled through his nose. “Do you think they won’t check for such a weapon, especially after your escape attempt? Especially one of a size that would be useful for what you intend?”
My jaw clenched. I hated all the logical points he made. “Okay.”
Attes turned to the bars, then stopped. “Do you feel her now?” His throat worked as his gaze found mine. “Sotoria’s soul, I mean.”
His question was strange to me, but I lifted a hand to my chest. I didn’t hear her as I had previously, but there was a flicker of something that wasn’t an ember. An awareness of someone there, watching and listening. “Yes.”
Emotion flickered across his face, too fast for me to determine what it was or even be sure I’d seen anything.
“Then I hope she hears this,” Attes said, swallowing once more. “I will save you this time.”
