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Or maybe they trust my loyalty enough now that they don’t care what I see.
I stagger between the trees, allowing myself to trip on a root and sprawl in the dirt. Twigs cling to my skirt when I push myself upright.
“Ouch,” I mumble, keeping up the dazed act for anyone who might be keeping watch.
Two tiny, darting presences whip past me with a tingle of agitated energy, tossing my cloak over my head. I yank it back in time to spot a faint glint flitting off through the forest.
Daimon. The spirit creatures don’t appear to have enjoyed the scourge sorcerers’ ceremonial burning any more than I have.
Which direction did the villains take the false king in? I fight through the real haze in my head to solidify my sense of direction.
I think… that way. I meander toward it on a rambling course, as if I’m weaving through the forest mostly at random.
Of course, the conspirators might have carted him off in another direction once they were out of sight. I’ll just have to keep roving around, playing the fool, until I stumble on his corpse or they call me back.
I scramble over a log and bumble through a clump of bushes. Then the toe of my boot hits something that makes an odd clinking sound.
Like… likepottery.
I do my best not to freeze up. Instead, I act as if I’ve tripped again to give me an excuse to end up on my hands and knees.
My fingers close around shards of fired clay.
In the darkness, I can barely see them, but I feel more chunks everywhere I touch. Far more pieces than a snake or a rat would break into.
My fingers close around a nob that feels like the shape of a nose. A chill sweeps through my body, turning my blood icy in my veins.
Gods help us all… Are the scourge sorcerers conjuring entire human beings?
Thirty-Two
Ivy
The first glow of the dawn has just reached the horizon when I slip into Stavros’s quarters.
The drug the scourge sorcerers gave us still muddles my thoughts and throws off my coordination alongside a growing fatigue. I managed to make my way to the fourth floor quietly enough, but I push the door closed a little too hard, with a thump that resonates through the room.
A grunt and a sharp breath carry from the bedroom. Stavros charges to the doorway and scans the living space with eyes both bleary and panicked.
He obviously fell asleep during the long time I was gone. His dark red hair and the dress shirt he never changed out of are rumpled. From the urgency in his expression and the tense set of his mouth, I think I might have startled him out of another nightmare.
A nightmare about me, no doubt.
My hand flies up. “Wait!”
I teeter around the room feeling for magic, but the beetle must be gone, and nothing else has taken its place.
I collapse onto the sofa to ease my dizziness. “It’s okay,” I tell Stavros. “I haven’t caused any catastrophes. The scourge sorcerers, though—”
Images from the chaotic night flash through my mind. I leap back up with a lurch of my own panic. “We should meet right away. I need to tell everyone—they’re making people. They want to burn the king. We stabbed a man—”
There’s too much I need to say—it’s all colliding. I grope for the right words and sway on my feet.
Ivy, I think you should sit down again, Julita says in a nervous tone.You’ve been up all night. It’s not like they’re staging a coup right now.
Stavros has already marched across the room to set a steadying hand on my shoulder. “Areyouall right? Did they hurt you?”
I shake my head, which unfortunately makes my head spin harder. “No. There was a drugged drink—I tried not to swallow—the stupid cart, ruts in the road…” I stop and force myself to inhale and exhale slowly. “I learned a lot. I should tell everyone.”
