Page 27

The tavern is quiet around this time of the morning. It’s still on the early side for lunch, but I order anyway, barely tasting the chicken and root vegetables.

I almost sleepwalk next door and up the stairs, where I wedge the lone chair beneath the doorknob, bathe, and fall face down onto the bed.

A tiny grave, next to a river. A woman, hugely pregnant, curled onto that grave.

“I promised him I would keep him safe. It was my job to keep him safe.”

The forest melts into a new place. A lush room filled with color and warmth.

Prisca, beaming at me.

My words slashing into her like knives. “I never asked to be part of your little group. I’m here to win this war and leave. So stop trying to make me care about you. All of you.”

Her smile slowly falling.

Asinia’s eyes hardening, her expression filled with both fury and pity.

Tears sting my eyes, and I attempt to wake.

Three of us, dressed for a day of joy, staring into a mirror. I’m wearing a crown of flowers, and I look strangely…soft.

Asinia is grinning at me, while Prisca’s eyes are filled with happiness once more. “I’m not sorry that you care, Madinia. Because when someone like you takes an interest…worlds change.”

I force my eyes open, staring up at the ceiling as I swallow around the burning lump in my throat.

Perhaps…perhaps the loss of my memories is a gift.

But I can’t ignore that tiny grave. Or the knowledge that if I don’t protect the grimoire, thousands of mothers will feel that same agony.

Already, Vicana has been encroaching into other kingdoms, grasping for more land to feed her ambitions. My years at court—and at war—taught me that great leaders don’t take what isn’t theirs. Not through conquest. Not through quiet theft. The rulers worth following build, protect, and strengthen. Vicana only devours.

Just as Regner did.

I roll to my feet, dress, and push the curtains open. The sun is high in the sky—I must have slept for a few hours, although it feels like only minutes.

My best option will be to try to find a seer here. They’re revered on this continent—seen as a direct link to the gods.

And yet, even the most powerful seer will admit that a single choice can have a ripple effect that will change the future entirely. It’s one of the reasons seers so often turn mad.

Still, I’m hoping a seer can tell me how to hide from Calysian. Perhaps they’ll even be able to give me some information about Daharak and the others.

I just…I just needsomething.

It’s not difficult to find a seer. The difficult part is handing over my few remaining coins in exchange for an hour with her.

The seer lives in a bright purple row house, and a woman with pale skin and bright orange hair opens the door, her eyes hard.

“Today is not a good day,” she tells me. “Come back tomorrow.”

“Let her in,” a voice calls. “I have been waiting for her.”

My stomach roils with unease. It’s never a good sign when a seer has previous knowledge of your existence.

The woman gives me an unfriendly look but opens the door further. The inside of the house is dark, the curtains drawn closed. I follow the woman through the entrance and into a small, cramped sitting room.

The seer sits on a sofa, a cup clutched in her hands. When she gazes at me, her eyes are filled with a strange knowledge. A knowledge that makes the hair stand up on the back of my neck.

“Finally,” she says. “You took your time.”