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He bent at the waist, bowing to the immortal prince.

The other Veder did the same.

“Prince Domacridhan of Iona. My enclave has not treated with your own since before you were born into the Ward.” His face caught the torchlight, and Dom saw a proud, angular nose and high-cut cheekbones. His eyes were narrowed, as if caught in a perpetual smile. They were disarmingly kind.

A son of Monarch Shan,Dom knew. Barasa was the southernmostenclave in the known lands of Allward, nestled deep in the Forest of Rainbows. As Iona raised the emblem of the stag, Barasa bore the panther.

“I’m sorry we meet under such circumstances,” Dom said with a glance to the tents. He tried to think as Corayne would, to figure out why a Vederan prince followed the mortal Heir of Ibal. “Surely you heard what was said within?”

“We Vedera are always listening, as I’m sure your mortals have discovered,” Sem answered, chortling low in his throat. “Rest assured, I will pass on your tidings to my father, and the rest of the southern enclaves, but...”

Dom gritted his teeth and curled a fist.

“They will not listen?” he muttered. He tried not to think of Iona, of Isibel and her advisors staring through him as he begged for their aid. “Just like my aunt.”

The dim light did not hinder Sem’s ability to see. His eyes ticked over Dom’s face, noting the clear frustration.

“Your aunt told them already,” Sem said, sighing. “Barasa received a sending some months ago, as did Hizir and Salahae.”

A cold hand clenched around Dom’s heart.A sending.He turned the word over in his mind, knowing its weight.She wouldn’t use her magic to help me, but she would use it to stand in my way.Dom scowled, a bitter taste filling his mouth.Barasa, Hizir, and Salahae.Immortal enclaves of the southern continent, shrouded by deserts and jungle. Distant, too far for Ridha to reach. It had been easy for her mother to get to them first.

“The sending was frail, her magic weakened by many miles,” Sem offered, his tone placating.

Dom’s hot temper won out, and he faced the desert, hands braced on his hips.

“When she refused to fight, I thought her cowardice would not pass the walls of Iona,” he growled. “The situation is more dire than she realizes, and whatever she told you—”

“Did she speak falsely?” Sem prodded.

“No,” Dom answered. Even now, he could not lie. “But she is wrong. If we do not fight, the Ward will fall.”

Sem pursed his lips together, his expression unreadable. “She thinks this Taristan of Old Cor will open a way home. To Glorian.”

Dom nearly cursed at the name of their realm. “That is not a price any of us should be willing to pay. The risk is too great, for the Ward—and every other realm.”

To his surprise, Sem offered the smallest nod. Then he looked to the stars again, his black eyes reflecting the infinite points of light. “I thank you for your bravery, Domacridhan. We Vedera are gifted in many things, but in this, you truly excel.”

“I am not brave.” Dom ran a hand over his face, feeling his scars. The skin was hard and puckered. He would never be the same as he was before the temple. And history was about to repeat itself. “I am angry, saddened, frustrated—all things but brave.”

“I disagree,” Sem said plainly.

Dom only shrugged. He sized up the immortal prince again, noting the strong set of his shoulders beneath his robes, and the cords of muscle in his arms. Sem bore no weapons Dom could see, but he was clearly no stranger to them.

“We could use another immortal to protect Corayne,” he said in a low voice.

Sem raised his brow. The panthers on his wrists glimmered. “Or I could ride for the closest enclave this very night and share what I’ve learned with Hizir.”

Something stung in Dom’s heart. He swallowed around a sudden lump in his throat. This time, when he thought of the slaughter at the temple, he remembered Nour of Hizir, a quiet warrior dead upon the marble steps. One of many Vedera fallen, from all corners of the Ward.Surely Hizir will rise to avenge their fallen?

“We could use that too,” he said thickly. “Will the Heir miss you?”

The prince of Barasa shook his head, casting a glance back at the tent. “Isadere of Ibal will thank me for doing this work for them. I assume they’ll send word to the mortal kingdoms as well as the enclaves.” He dropped his voice, leaning close, like the stars themselves were listening. “A strangeness is spreading across the land. My father sent me north as his envoy, to find another side of this story, and it is my duty to pass on what I’ve learned here tonight. The Monarch of Iona cannot be the only singer in this song.”

Dom dared to smile, the night air cold on his teeth. “You believe us, don’t you?”

Sem gave him a firm squeeze on the shoulder. “I don’t know what else could draw such a band together, besides the ending of the world,” he said.

No words had ever been so true.