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I felt rather bereft of them myself—considering the vision I’d just seen.
But there was no time for more questions, not on my own behalf. Not ones that weren’t directly related to saving Annwyn.
Arran was already on his feet, stooping slightly. He offered me a hand. I accepted, pulling myself to my feet. He murmured something like thanks to the priestess, but then he was in the tunnel. I lingered a moment longer.
I stared directly at the seer as I spoke, determined not to miss any facet of her reaction. “I thought I saw my brother.”
Her chin dipped. “That was one of your desires.”
“Is he alive?”
“You have already asked and received the answer to that question.” Yes, she could see into the past and the future. She knew what I’d asked the witch in the Tower of Myda.
“Is he part of my quest?”
Sympathy sparkled in her eyes. “That is for you to decide.”
An answer that was not an answer. Naturally.
“Priestesses are no better than witches,” I grumbled as I climbed out behind Arran.
79
VEYKA
Same room off the main atrium. Same fluttering, sour-faced blue faerie darting around above our heads.
“Where have you been?” Taliya asked before the door had even closed fully behind us. I wondered about its existence at all.
But I wasn’t about to be cowed by a snippy faerie half my size. I could quite literally have sat on her, and that would have been the end of this argument.
I planted one hand on my hip. “We are getting to know our faerie hosts.”
Annoyance edged with something sharper flashed over Taliya’s face. I’d been accused of having a temper, but this faerie… “You were with the priestess.”
I rolled my eyes. “Why do you ask questions you already know the answer to?”
Arran was at my side, nudging me with his arm. Subtly—as he reached to resettle his own hands near his weapons. A show; we both knew he would never draw them against Taliya or the other faeries. Our subjects… sort of.
But it was his way of reminding me that I was supposed to be playing the part of the diplomatic queen. Something I was utterly terrible at.
Taliya’s gaze darted between us, as if she would somehow be able to access the unspoken messages that flowed so easily from Arran to me and back again with just the brush of a hand.
She planted her own claw-tipped hands on her tiny hips as her wings slowed and she lowered herself to the ground. She waited until her feet were firmly planted to issue her edict. “It is time for you to leave.”
I lifted my chin. “We are in agreement.”
“We are healed and provisioned, for which we are grateful,” Arran cut in. Always the more diplomatic of the two of us. Ironic as hell for someone who’d earned the title Brutal Prince. “We will leave tomorrow morning.”
I ignored Arran, my eyes pinned to Taliya. “The priestess showed us Avalon.”
“I see.” She blinked, but other than that, did not react. I doubted she’d suddenly learned to hide her reactions. Which meant she’d expected as much.
“You knew all along where it was.”
Her lips curved slightly. Little monster. “I never claimed otherwise,” she said.
I was done waiting for her to judge us worthy of her help. Time to start demanding. Time to get to Avalon, before the blood from the priestess’s vision started flowing.
