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And yet…

When I looked up at Lorian, my eyes hot with unshed tears, he cursed, pulling me into his arms. “I’m sorry, wildcat.”

Sniffing, I nodded. But I had no time to fall apart. We’d already met with Rekja earlier today, and the rest of us would have one final meeting before leaving.

Vicer had already left with one of Rekja’s generals, and they would meet with three thousand hybrid soldiers. I’d questioned whether he was ready after his experience at the hybrid camp, and he’d simply shaken his head at the suggestion he needed time to grieve.

Truthfully, there was little time to give him. So Vicer would bring extra supplies to ensure the hybrids who were readying to travel across the pass would be well-guarded, warm, and fed.

“How are you feeling?” I murmured. “After last night?” Lorian had explained what had happened. His guilt had been a weakness that the dead who’d meant him harm had taken full advantage of. And together with Cavis, he’d found a way to banish them. I was hoping that banishment would last.

“I’m perfect, wildcat. I promise.”

He did seem lighter. No longer was he staring into the distance or slowly turning his head to glower at things we couldn’t see. But it hurt my heart to know Cavis hadn’t found peace.

And I knew it hurt Lorian’s too.

Lorian took my hand, leading me back to our rooms, where Marth and Galon were waiting to discuss our own plan. Surprisingly, Marth took one look at my face and dragged me into his arms for a hug.

When we were all seated at the table in the main room, Marth drummed his fingers absently on the arm of his chair. “How exactly do you think we’re going to get close to Zathrian? Even if Prisca had her power, he has nulled it before.”

Rage cut through me, thick and deadly.

Zathrian nulling my magic had allowed Lorian to die.

“You’re looking a little scary, Prisca.” Galon nudged me. I attempted a smile.

“Simple,” Lorian said. “We’ll use Renit.”

Galon’s eyes flashed. “Conreth gave you Renit?”

“Temporarily.”

Enough was enough. “Exactly what is Renit?”

“Not what,” Marth said. “Who.”

“Renit is a person?”

“Not just any person. Renit has the power of mimicry.”

I waited for him to explain. Marth raised one eyebrow, drawing out the moment. Despite my annoyance, I would take any hint of playfulness from Marth at the moment.

“Renit can make someone appear to be someone else.”

My mind whirled with the implications of that kind of power. “Why didn’t you use his magic to get into the castle?”

“Two reasons,” Lorian said. “First, his power is extremely limited. It lasts an hour at most. And it cannot replicate someone entirely. The most it can do is an imitation that would be just passable—mostly from a distance. I needed a glamour that would allow me to stroll around Regner’s castle. One that I could wear sitting footspans from Regner until I found what I needed.”

“And the other reason?”

“Conreth,” Galon said. “Renit is usually kept in Aranthon, close to Conreth. When he travels, he is disguised and slipped into one of the carriages trailing the king.”

It took me a moment to understand. “In case there’s an assassination attempt,” I said, my words dripping with the disgust that crawled through me. Every time I thought I was close to understanding—if not entirely forgiving—Conreth, I learned some new, unwelcome information about him.

“Yes,” Marth said. “If anyone attempts to kill Conreth, Renit will be right there. Very, very few people know about his power.”

“Which means if there were an assassination attempt, he would make someone else look like Conreth and create confusion.”