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“If Cyland wanted us to meet him somewhere, he would speak his desires to Hakon, then the bird would share the memory of Cy’s words with us.”

Adira dragged her palms down her face. “This place keeps getting . . . stranger and more incredible.”

We stood in silence for a long pause.

“Kage.”

“Yes, Wildling.”

“If a heartstone is removed, what happens to the soul connected to it?”

Fury coursed through my body, beating and thrashing like it might burst through my ribs. “It becomes lost, tortured, disconnected from the Afterrealms and their loved ones still living. The stones cannot be removed from the tomb without the soul speaker, the only mage who can handle a raw heartstone without corrupting the soul ritual.”

Adira cracked one of her fingers. “If it is found, can it be returned?”

“Yes.” I ground my teeth. “More than this damn darkness, I would do anything to restore Arabeth’s peace. I cannot stomach the notion of her in pain and unable to find respite.”

“Why do you think someone would take her stone?” Adira asked, voice soft.

“Who’s to say.” I buried the scorch of rage beneath a mask of indifference. “Likely targeting the royal house. She was the most recent death.”

“That’s horrible.” Adira lifted her gaze to the upper shelves. “Is there a way I can help?”

Her words took me by the throat, squeezing until I struggled to draw a deep enough breath. “End the degeneration,” I told her. “Help us do that, and I am hoping with it comes more memories of what became of Arabeth that I simply do not recall.”

One pace away, that was the distance between us. I didn’t know when we’d grown so close, but Adira tilted her face. She held my stare, unblinking. “I’ll do what I can, Thief.”

“Kage.” Asger’s deep grumble came from the outer corridor. “Where is he?”

“He’s not an infant, my love,” came Cy’s dry response.

“I’d better go. Um, your brother wanted to speak about what happened in the great hall last night.” Adira blinked and took a step back. “I haven’t thanked you for what you did.”

Blind rage burned in my skull. More than even my anger for my sister, the pure bloodlust that surged through me at the sight of those bastards tormenting her was not a thing I’d soon forget. “They will be executed. I assure you.”

She swallowed. “I shouldn’t want anyone to die because of me.”

“But?”

Adira lifted her chin. “I’ll sleep soundly knowing they’re dead. What does that make you think of me, Thief?”

I grinned. “Trust me, you do not want to know the things I think of you.”

Icy wind beatagainst my face. I steeled against it and stepped into the dark stable house where a single flickering candle lit the front room.

“You must take them.”

My pulse quickened. My mother, a voice I’d not heard for what felt like a dozen lifetimes, faced an open window. Her long, golden hair was free from her usual intricate braids. She was in a sleeping robe, and she was holding a locked wooden box.

“Youmust,” she hissed. I could not hear the response of the person outside the window.

I yearned to reach for her, yearned to embrace her, to help her. Anything but remain here in the doorway, unable to move forward.

“They cannot be used in such a way, it’s cruel magic,” my mother said, a crack in her voice. “I do not know what will become of us, but I will not give up my blood. I will not give up the crown to such a darkened soul.”

Who was she speaking about?

“Blood is needed, but we are obstacles.” My mother swiped at her eyes. “Should the worst happen, promise you will keep him safe.”