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Chapter 13

IRIS

“We do not have the resources to translate that text.”

The buzz of hope coursing through my body evaporated at the queen’s words. So much time had been spent just to find this one thread of possibility. How many would perish in the time it took to find another?

Nausea threatened to overtake me, and I breathed deeply through my nose, willing myself not to spill the contents of my stomach onto the elegant rug. On any other day, I might have relished the thought—a small act of rebellion in my family’s name—but the conversation at hand was too important.

Sarek had received a brief explanation of the new insight but was unable to stay while I spoke to the royals. Prince Aspen Gavalon, to my immense displeasure, stood in the corner of the room as he had since we entered, arms crossed and face unreadable. His indiscernible gaze had not wavered from me as I spoke with the queen.

The intensity of it made my skin crawl.

“I’m afraid that is all I’ve been able to find in your records.” I forced my voice to remain steady. I didn’t dare let it betray the desperation swelling within me at being no closer to helping either realm’s people—or to seeing my home again. “I will continue to search, but I have exhausted most of the collection I’ve been allowed access to.”

“Iris, what is it you are hoping to find in this text?” She tapped her nails against the oak desk between us, studying me intently. “Why should this translation be of such importance?”

I chose my words carefully. “I believe we are approaching this incorrectly.” The last thing I wanted was to insult the work Kacidon’s healers had done. Their accolades and attentive support shouldn’t be cast aside, but despite their tireless efforts, we remained in the same position as when the Malum first presented. Little more was known now than before.

My years of isolation may have cost me firsthand experience in the world, but they’d given me ample time to absorb knowledge. And knowledge, in this moment, was power. A power I had worked tirelessly to wield.

She pursed her lips but did not respond. Queen Genevieve Gavalon was difficult to read, commanding respect while remaining the picture of composed grace and regality. Beneath that, though, lingered the woman who’d sunk her teeth into another’s magic with unyielding conviction. Her most pronounced disdain had been reserved for my mother, but toward me, she was merely indifferent. There had to be an end goal to her plans beyond finding a cure. Another puzzle I would need to piece together while here.

“Both realms have approached this assuming the knowledge we need lies in treatment,” I continued, breaking the silence. “And while that may ultimately prove true, we are trying to fight a war without understanding our enemy.”

The queen and prince alike straightened, their resemblance striking in more than mere physicality. Matching expressions of curiosity—and perhaps intrigue—hinted at a crack in their resolve.

“You suggest we are wasting our efforts on what techniques to use, without understanding the illness itself,” Queen Genevieve said, leaning forward.

“I wouldn’t phrase it so bluntly, but yes.” My fingers ached for a task—to braid strands of my hair or tug at the loose threads of my blouse.

I resisted the urge to reach up and check that my neck and back were properly covered. My entire being protested at denying the familiar ritual. The voice echoed in my mind: They will see what will damn you. You are not safe. Your loved ones are not safe. Instead, I dug my nails into my palms, the crescent-shaped indents quelling the need slightly.

“If we can understand the illness itself—how it attacks a near-immortal body with such magnitude and how it bypasses our healing methods—we can create something to target it far more effectively.”

“And this book you’ve found? You believe it holds these answers?”

“It’s a start.” Something dangerously akin to hope bubbled in my chest. Foolish, I knew. Every previous lead also promised progress, only to crush us when it proved futile. I suppressed the emotion and continued, “And currently, it’s the only one we have.”

“Very well.” She reached across the desk, retrieving a roll of parchment and an ink pot. “There is a Linguistic who works for the Altaerran archives in Marikaim. They should be able to assist.”

Linguistics, capable of flawlessly translating any written or spoken language, were among the Ethera whose magic pertained to communication—Scriptors. A classification I was quite familiar with.

“Marikaim will not help us,” a low, gravelly voice called from the corner of the room. So unlike the one I had grown accustomed to hearing among the winter winds.

Queen Genevieve lifted her gaze, noticing my confusion. “While I would have previously agreed, I have reason to believe otherwise. Our peace with Marikaim remains… precarious. Their previous ruler was not keen to honor our tentative alliance. However, they recently crowned a new Queen. She is young, not much older than either of you, and far more forward-thinking than their previous king.”

Meaning she likely had not witnessed Kacidon’s refusal to aid Marikaim when their shores were attacked in the years following the Tenebris War.

Several unpromised factions of Altaerra, guilds with no allegiance to any realm or ruler, had stormed vulnerable provinces in the time after the Tenebris War. Mostly the Shades and the Laneri had used the time to gather resources while realms were unwatched, governed only by the code they swore themselves to.

And what had Kacidon done, when Marikaim begged for help?

Exactly what they’d done when Reilune’s former capitol was destroyed.

Nothing.

“However,” she continued, locating a quill and beginning to write, “It is imperative they do not learn of Kacidon’s current hardship.”

“Translation of the text will alert them to something amiss,” I noted. Even if the Linguistic didn’t know which passage we sought, the book’s subject matter alone would undoubtedly raise suspicion.

“Precisely.” She finished her writing, signing with a flourish before securing the missive with the Kacidon seal. She held it out to Theon. “To Marikaim’s royal emissary, with urgency. Leave this with Dante to send—I need to speak with you after this meeting concludes.”

He nodded and left. The queen turned back to me. “Should we receive allowance, you and Aspen will travel to Marikaim.”

“She will not,” Aspen interjected. “I will go alone. We have no reason to believe she is suited for a task of this magnitude.”

“Excuse me?”

He’d remained silent this entire meeting and never assisted in the endless hours of research. He was supposedly leading Kacidon’s efforts against this plague, yet I'd never seen it. Who the fuck was he to decide what tasks I was capable of?

“An audience between royals is a task of finesse,” he replied, not a flicker of emotion crossing the hard planes of his face.

“Which is why you are often accompanied by our emissary—lest you forget.” The queen cut off her son, exasperation clear in the rigid set of her posture. Whatever tension simmered between them managed, at the very least, to replace a sliver of my anger with amusement. If this was how he conducted himself in such situations—as Ferrin had led me to believe—then it was no wonder his manner wasn’t well received.

“As I was saying,” she continued, lifting a hand to silence her son’s imminent protest, “they cannot know what we are researching. The Linguistic, if supplied with the proper materials and incentive, should be able to craft an object imbued with their magic—a decoder for the Divinian language. The Altaerran Archives already possess one, but even accessing it would be hazardous. Never mind the fact that they are not known for their generosity.”

“If they guard their own so fiercely, why should we presume they'll agree to create one for Kacidon?” I asked, skeptical of how this was a solution at all.

“Because in Marikaim, knowledge is the ultimate currency.” A knowing glint flickered in her gaze, a small, sharp smile forming at the corner of her lips. “For ages now, I have been in possession of a sacred grimoire they desperately seek.”

I willed my features to remain neutral. As the last known records of several forms of inorganic magic, most grimoires had been destroyed over the past few centuries. “You would part with something of that magnitude?”

“It is an important text, but my people are more so.”

Aspen finally stepped out from the shadows he had been sulking in, positioning himself a few paces from me, facing his mother. “That still may not be enough.”

“If so, you will have a chest from the royal treasury and two ships from the Kacidon naval forces to offer.” She hesitated, glancing down at her hands briefly. “Actually—offer one ship with the grimoire to replace what they lost. The other if they still refuse. We made mistakes in the war. And for a long time after. It is time we acknowledge them.”

For the first time, a softness crossed her face, reflected in her son's expression. It was fleeting. As soon as she seemed to remember my presence, her composure snapped back into place like a well-forged blade sliding into its sheath.

“You will also have another text to offer the Linguistic directly, along with the materials necessary for the decoder's creation. They will require payment, and knowledge is worth far more than gold.”

Her chair scraped against the cold marble as she stood. I mirrored her movements, the abrupt shift presumably a dismissal.

“We will speak again soon, Iris.”

I bowed before turning toward the door. Upon passing the threshold, I spotted Nadya and Ferrin leaning against opposite sides of the frame. The weight that had begun pressing against my ribs at the task ahead lifted significantly.

“Eavesdropping?” I mused.

Ferrin stretched out his palms in mock innocence. “We wouldn’t dare.”

I couldn’t help but laugh, the levity of their presence nearly bringing tears to my eyes. I missed my family, the apothecary, the forest—but whenever they were near, my heart felt at home.

Ferrin clapped a hand onto Aspen’s shoulder as he exited. “Now that the worst is over, where’s the best place around here to thaw out and have some fun, Lord Snowman?”

If I weren’t so irate with him, I would have crumbled into hysterics. Aspen eyed the hand on his shoulder like one would a spider, clearly appalled at both the contact and the audacity of the question.

“Oh, come on,” Ferrin grinned, still not letting go. “You’re telling me there’s not a single place to get rip-roaring wasted and forget our own names? Don’t disappoint me, we’ve heard plenty of whispers about your nightlife.”

Aspen did nothing to hide his contempt as he removed Ferrin’s arm with two fingers.

“Iris,” he muttered, turning toward me and Nadya. I swore something flashed in his eyes. “I need to speak with Iris.”

Nadya’s grip on my shoulder tightened, about to interject, but I stepped in front of her. I quietly thanked the Divine that Sarek had already left. Ferrin and Nadya trusted my intuition, but Sarek’s protectiveness rivaled my mother’s. I was sick and tired of everyone insisting on fighting my battles for me.

Aspen stood in the middle of the chamber, arms crossed, waiting.

Fine. If he wanted to act like an insufferable prick to everyone, he could damn well learn some patience.

I turned to Nadya with a pulled her close. “Drinks soon?”

She flashed a grin full of teeth and as she strode out. “Give them hell, Ris.”

Ferrin remained beside Aspen, arms now folded as well, glancing between us. I exhaled, shaking my head at the ridiculous picture they made, then waved Ferrin off. “It’s fine.”

Ferrin narrowed his eyes. “Actually, I think I’ll just?—”

“Leave.”

Aspen hadn't raised his voice, but it echoed like a crack of ice through the chamber.

I caught the warning signs of rare anger rising in Ferrin. No one here was prepared for that. With a look, I silently urged him to let me handle it. After one more glance my way, he relented, shoving Aspen’s shoulder as he stalked out the door where Nadya waited.

Rolling my eyes at the absurd display of male ego, I planted my feet and mirrored Aspen’s posture. If he expected me to move toward him, he was in for disappointment.

With a sigh, he closed the distance in four deliberate steps, the sharp sound of his boots echoing through the chamber.

“Do you always enjoy being this insufferable, or do you just currently have an icicle up your ass?”

Prince Aspen Gavalon, heir to the damned throne of Kacidon, arched a brow. “Special occasion.”

I huffed, sketching an exaggerated bow. “Then I’m honored, Your Highness , to be part of this stunning display of your winning personality.”

His expression remained impassive, stony. I wanted to punch it.

“You didn’t seem to mind in the woods,” he said, voice flat.

“What a performance.” I clasped my hands together, “A round of applause for the role of charismatic commoner . Must have been a fun deviation from your day-to-day life. Your reputation truly precedes you.”

“You've heard of me, then?”

The contempt in his voice stoked my temper like wind to a flame. “Does it entertain you, pretending you sit above us all in your tower? Do you also thrive on the power it gives you? Must be family trait.”

His gaze sharpened to a knife’s edge, cold rage burning through me. I was playing with fire. And I couldn’t bring myself to care.

The edge had barely been taken off my magic from the night before. I let it the ferocity of it beneath my skin blaze wild. It felt sickly freeing, to be so full of anger. At everyone. At everything. To not bottle up every emotion for fear of drawing too much attention.

Be quiet, Iris. You mustn’t show too much, Iris. Keep your emotions contained, Iris.

“Would you like to speak of family? At least I’m not?—”

“Finish that sentence,” I spat, stepping forward. “I dare you.”

Clenching my fists, I willed the pulsing magic to recede. Fought it for dominance as I considered clawing at his smug, beautiful face.

The door creaked open behind us, dousing my fury. Theon and the queen stood in the doorway with twin expressions of confusion.

Theon cleared his throat. “We need to discuss one more matter with you.”

Queen Genevieve’s sharp gaze flicked between Aspen and me. “With both of you. Together.”