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“Regardless,” I cut in. “The Sarro, Ceador and Amyntas alliance.” Herrath opened his mouth, and I held up a hand. “I’m not listing the minor houses again. They’re going to push for the Sarros on the throne since they have the best chance. They’re Varzorn’s cousins for all that they’re generations younger. Zerek and Xavier are only related once, three generations back, and aren’t blood-related to the Sarros, so they can intermarry. And if any of them take power, they would put their siblings in charge here and we’ll be out.”
“And House Rorel and Cairis would support you, but they’ll believe that’s off the table...” Herrath said.
A smile spread across Raenisa’s face. “So we’re leaving?”
“Unless you’re married off...”
She shook her head. “Not going to happen.”
“No? What if Varzorn chooses Caelia and the Young Bear needs a bride?”
“Well, then sacrifices will have to be made.”
Of course, that would change her mind. I chuckled, my fingers tracing a circle on Lily’s spine and causing her to scowl at me, but I couldn’t keep my hands off of her. “Our priority is finding Striker. I’m not leaving the desert without my sword.”
Lily made a choking sound, and I grabbed a glass from the tray nearest me and handed it to her. “Here,Sia. Drink.”
She took it, drinking deep between coughs until she could breathe normally once more.
“Theron!”
I whipped around to see Varzora Rorel and her brother, Osiel, rushing toward me. A genuine smile spread across my face, and I opened my arms for Varzora to jump into them.
“Zora! Oz! What are you doing here?” I asked, letting go of Varzora to embrace Osiel as well, holding them both tight. When my father had fled Athain and my mother, we’d gone to stay with his family and the twins had become practically siblings to me, but it had been years since I had seen them last. Varzorn had punished their family for harboring us, and they never came to court unless ordered to attend.
Varzora was a bubbly and charismatic girl with hair ranging from black to red at the tips. She was short for an elf, with bright onyx eyes that lit up when she laughed. Osiel, on the other hand, was tall and lean with shoulder-length black hair and round glasses. His topaz-colored eyes were serious, but he had a kind heart behind them. Osiel was also incredibly studious—always reading or doing something to gain more knowledge.
“We heard you were here.” Varzora panted, her face flushed from running across the room to get to me. “Are you alright? Everyone’s talking about your fight with Rhazien.”
“I’m fine,” I said, smiling at their concern for me. “Where’s Aunt Lyta?”
“Mom couldn’t come,” Varzora chirped. “But she sent a care package. I have it in our villa.”
My heart tugged uncomfortably. Every time I received a package from Aunt Lyta, it included a little gift that had once been my father’s or something from their childhood. How would she react knowing that I’d lost one of the Axidor swords? Thank Atar that Osiel always had his head in the clouds and Varzora was too excitable to notice I only wore one sword or I’d be in trouble.
“I look forward to it.”
“And to answer your question, obviously we wanted to see you.” Zora squeaked.
“And your library.” Osiel put in, pushing his spectacles up his nose. He could have used a piercing and fixed his eyesight in a minute, but he said that he liked how the glasses felt on his face.
Varzora rolled her eyes. “And Oz wants to read the histories that are kept here. He’s studying the Godsfall.”
“There are several inconsistencies I want to figure out.” Osiel began, his face lighting up as it did every time he talked about his research and I basked in the glow of nostalgia. The years we’d lived together had been the best of my life. Until my father was killed and I was forced to live in a cage... I shook off the memories, glancing at Lily in surprise when she scoffed. Osiel blinked as if he’d just noticed she was there. A ridiculous notion given her appearance. It surprised me that anyone present could look away from her. The desire to throw a tablecloth over her to keep their hungry eyes off her luscious body warred with my enjoyment of the insufferable courtier’s reactions as I paraded her around.
“What?” I asked, my brows furrowing.
“What?” I asked, my brows furrowing.
“Nothing.”
She tried to decline, but I motioned for her to continue. “No. What were you going to say?” I prodded, staring down at her.
“The victors write history, and you Elves are liars. It’s no wonder things don’t add up.” She said, looking around us as if searching for a weapon. “Remnants have histories we pass down that are nothing like yours.”
Osiel tilted his head. “Are you saying I should ask the Remnants for information?”
That wouldn’t work out well. Varzorn always ordered me to burn libraries when razing a city. Anything they knew would be passed down orally.
