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“And Valtik?” he murmured.

Corayne swiped at her own stinging eyes. “Honestly, Valtik is probably playing bone dice somewhere and laughing at the end of the world.” She was only half joking. “I think it’s just us. We will have to be enough.”

“We aren’t dead yet,” he said.

The words were too familiar to Corayne by now. She echoed them anyway.

“We aren’t dead yet.”

Before an uneasy silence could truly settle, Garion huffed. “So where are we supposed to be going tomorrow?”

“And so abysmally early,” Charlie grumbled.

Corayne set her jaw. “We set out for Iona enclave. In Calidon.”

Charlie leaned heavily against the table, as if already exhausted by the long journey. “Why Iona?”

“It’s the largest Elder city. Dom’s home. And it’s where all this began. The Spindleblades, my father. I feel like some cord is pulling me there. It’s the right path, it has to be,” she said, putting a hand to her heart. “Not tomention the fact that Taristan has Erida’s army and a horde of the undead. He will come after me to get the sword back, and I don’t intend to just stand on the side of the road until he shows up.”

“And—” Her voice caught. “I think it’s where the rest would go. If they could. If there’s a chance they’re not—”

Then words failed her entirely, her throat threatening to close.

Across the room, Charlie dropped his eyes, giving her a little privacy in her grief.

“Well, I don’t know what a good plan sounds like anymore, but I suppose this has to be good enough,” he finally said. “Perhaps the letters will help a little. If they ever make it where they need to go.”

Again, Corayne ached with memory. She wanted to go back to Vodin, to the morning before they rode out of Trec. When she and Charlie sat at a feasting table, a stack of parchment between them, the air smelling of ink. As she wrote, Charlie forged a dozen seals of the highest crowns across the realm, from Rhashir to Madrence. Each one calling for help, each one laying bare Erida’s conquest, and corruption.

“If we’re lucky, they just might.” But even Corayne did not dare to hope. The letters would take weeks or months to reach their destinations, if they made it at all. And then, they had to be believed on top of everything else. “Will Isadere sway their father? Will the King of Ibal fight?”

Charlie cared little for the Heir of Ibal, and he scoffed. “If they look away from their holy mirror long enough.”

It was hardly what Corayne wanted to hear. She bit her lip sharply, nearly breaking the skin. “I can’t believe it’s just us.”

By the table, Charlie’s face softened. He was clean-shaven again. It made him look younger, closer to Corayne’s age.

“I should say something wise and comforting. But even as a priest, I was never good at that sort of thing.” He eyed the many candles on thetabletop, the light of their flames dancing on his cheeks. “I don’t know what lies beyond this realm, Corayne. I don’t know where our souls go. But I want to think they go together, and we will see them again, one day. At the end of it.”

In one swift motion, he licked his thumb and pointer finger. He pinched five candles in turn, snuffing out the flames with the smallest hiss of smoke. Corayne winced as each candle went out.

Then he grasped another candle, still burning, and set the five back to light again.

“Pray with me, Charlie,” Corayne murmured.

She expected him to refuse.

Instead, he took a knee beside her, one hand clasped in her own.

To whatever god would listen, she prayed for guidance. For courage. And for the realm beyond to be as Charlie said. Their souls together, waiting for the rest.

12

The Bull, the Snake, and the Hurricane

Domacridhan

The next day, the jailers returned. This time, they came with a Lionguard knight, his armor golden in the torchlight. He walked proudly, chest thrust forward, but Dom caught the way his gaze shifted, flickering over the prisoners on either side of the corridor. Even the Queen’s guard knew to fear them.