Page 69

“This is not your battle, Captain. You should return home.”

“And you?” she demands, her anger evident. Ruby’s voice shakes, her face flushes.

“I’m going home too,” Dawsyn replies, and in saying it, she feels ill. “Back to the Ledge.”

There is a silence, as Dawsyn knew there would be. She looks back to the window, where the sky grows lighter. She hears Ruby breathing unevenly behind her, and then a voice speaks that Dawsyn does not expect.

“You tend toward theatrics, Dawsyn Sabar. Did you know? Return to the Ledge, indeed. Stupidest thing I’ve ever heard, and I’ve listened to Esra speak on the subject of wigs for over an hour.”

Baltisse stands in the open door, her hand still grasping the handle.

“Mother above, must you slink around like that, Baltisse?”

“If one wants to hear more than what was intended for them, then yes.” The mage enters the room with casual arrogance, sitting upon the bed with a grace any woman would envy, if the woman gave a care for such things. Baltisse crosses her legs beneath her skirts and looks expectantly at Dawsyn, and for one who claims to have overheard bad news, she appears decidedly unrattled.

“The Council voted,” Dawsyn says carefully.

“I know,” says the mage, rolling her eyes.

Dawsyn frowns. “And yet you do not seem concerned.”

Baltisse shifts her long hair over her shoulder. “I am merely unsurprised. Were we not expecting some resistance? I believe it more important to knowwhythey resist. Or, more specifically, why does that troll,Adrik,resist?”

“It seems he thinks of himself as Glacia’s new king,” Dawsyn answers, crossing her arms. “I assume he has no interest in offering the Izgoi to help a village of humans if it does not benefit him.”

“I’d wager,” Baltisse retorts, her eyes burning brightly, “that you’ve only scratched the surface there, sweet.”

Dawsyn frowns at the mage. Ruby’s head whips back and forth between the two. There is a pause, and then Dawsyn asks, “What do you know?”

“Not enough,” Baltisse says. “Not yet.”

“You heard Adrik’s mind, though, didn’t you? In the receiving room? What was he thinking?”

“I only heard small murmurings, I’m afraid. As you know, I only hear thoughts projected toward me, which is why I need your help, Dawsyn Sabar.”

Dawsyn sighs. “I’m regretting it already.”

“In the receiving room, Adrik did not speak with me, or even acknowledge me, and there was therefore no clear path into his mind.”

“A path?” Ruby murmurs.

“Yes, child, apath,” Baltisse quips, as though the concept should be an obvious thing. “Before Dawsyn skips off over the Ledge to prove her honour and what have you, I need her tocreatea path, between Adrik-the-troll’s mind, and mine.”

“And how shall I do that?” Dawsyn asks.

“We will speak with him again,” Baltisse says easily. “And you will direct the conversation toward me. Say my name to divert his attention. In fact, tell him I’m a mage. Tell him I want to uncover the secrets of Glacia. Often times the ones who hand me the most useful of their thoughts are the ones trying to hide them. Let us find out what dear Adrik’s true intentions are.” Her tone deepens. “Ryon seems to hold him in high esteem, but if that troll means him any harm… I will relieve him of his skin and wear it like a robe.”

Ruby grimaces with open disgust. “Lovely.”

A word Dawsyn would hardly use to describe the mage’s nature, but if Adrik’s mind reveals any plans to betray the mixed, Dawsyn will help her peel.

“And should you find your way into Adrik’s mind,” Dawsyn says. “What, exactly, do you expect to find?”

The mage’s eyes twinkle in response.

The mixed of Glacia have awoken by the time the women leave Dawsyn’s chamber. The Palace echoes with the activities of those within.

Down a wide hall, Tasheem turns a corner and spies them. She already holds a large crate of tools, sweat beading across her forehead.