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“One of the benefits of becoming lord protector is you learn all of the secret passageways in the First House,” he says.

“Amusingly enough, it wasn’t Rihad who showed them to me, but a mix of servants, councilors, and even some stewards.

I have no doubt that there are other passages that I have yet to figure out, but, Light willing, I’ll have the chance to walk the length and breadth of the First House a thousand times over once this crisis has passed.

I just wish I could understand why Rihad wanted to awaken the dark powers in the Western Realms. There’s so little in our archives about the early days of the Protectorate—those first years after the attack they survived at the western border, or even much about how the ruling houses were established. ”

“Really?” I frown, annoyed that his words are almost a direct echo of Tennet’s concerns.

“But how is that possible? This is our system of government you’re talking about, the rules and codes of conduct that have been handed down since the dawn of the Protectorate.

If that’s not accessible here, what are we basing our decisions on? That makes no sense.”

“Oh, there are plenty of later works to provide that guidance, you can be sure.” Fortiss taps a large stack of thick, dusty tomes, then gestures to a far-shorter pile of books with bright leather covers.

“But I’m looking for books that were written at the dawn of the Protectorate or shortly thereafter, any sort of indication about how those initial houses were set up and why the decisions were made as to who ruled where.

And I know what you’re going to ask, Talia.

I’ve been looking for that too. But there’s no historical account that mentions women in the leadership of houses as far back as these go.

Granted, they only go back about three hundred years.

That leaves two hundred years of unaccounted-for history that surely exists, as you say, somewhere.

Miriam contends that those old books were originally stored at the Eighth House, but if they were, why wouldn’t Rihad have already brought them here?

Even if the Eighth kept back some copies, why would Rihad leave anything behind? ”

I make my way over to him as he talks, then lean over a table and open a book at random, frowning to see it was only written a hundred years earlier.

Still ancient, by any accounting, but far too recent to matter.

“Maybe he did bring them and just simply destroyed them because they didn’t say what he wanted them to say?

If no history exists to counter the lies that you’re pedaling, are they truly lies?

Or have you simply created a more palatable truth? ”

Fortiss rubs his hands through his hair, making it stand out at odd angles. For the first time, I notice how tired he looks. I frown, worry skiffing through me, but he merely continues.

“The other thing that I’ve been looking for is the crown of wings,” he says.

“The more I read in these old books, the more I’m convinced it exists as an actual artifact—something that pre-dates the Protectorate.

It’s not just some myth or bit of pageantry that was created to give the tournament meaning.

Even Tennet mentioned it in his delirious speech to you.

But if it existed once, where did it go? ”

I blink at him. “What are you talking about?”

“It’s right here.” He reaches for a heavy volume set carefully to the corner of his desk and pulls it into the light to read from it.

“When the delegation of the Imperium made their way across the wild lands that would eventually become the Protectorate, they found great treasures and took them for their own. Among them was a golden, winged crown of great power. Their leader, Mirador, claimed the crown for his own, as was his right.”

He glances up to me. “According to this account, however, he didn’t put the crown on his head until they were attacked by the creatures from the Western Realms—and at first he did it simply to draw the attention of the enemy, to give them something to focus on in order to keep the other members of their party safe for as long as possible. ”

I make a face. “I have a hard time believing any man wouldn’t at least try the thing on to see how he looked as a king.”

Fortiss laughs, and the tension eases between us.

“Fair point, but that’s not what I’m focusing on here.

He put it on to distract the Divhs—to set himself up as a decoy.

But the account goes on to say that the crown connected him to the blighted army and the creatures of shadow who ruled it.

And through the connection, he could rule the army as well. ”

I blink. “That’s the purpose of the winged crown?” I ask him, stunned, Tennet’s crazed words sounding in my mind. “To rule the darkness?”

“It gets worse. After this mention of Mirador’s crown, there’s at least one other crown mentioned—and a possible third reference, though I can’t?—”

“ Three ?” I demand. “Three crowns that rule those flying snake things?”

“The skrill, yes—and maybe three. Maybe two, maybe more. We just don’t know.”

I make a face. “And Rihad has one of them? That’s how he was able to summon these things?”

“That I also don’t know,” Fortiss gestures helplessly.

“Obviously, he’s not wearing it now, but the skrill came all the same.

But did it simply take that long for them to show up because he collapsed on the battlefield?

Is this some long-gestating magic that’s finally coming to life?

Or is there someone else with a crown out there?—”

“Light, Fortiss,” I breathe. “Don’t even think such a thing.”

“We have to think it—and, what’s more, we have to see for ourselves. We’ve got to get to the Western Realms as quickly as we can…and return before the agents of the Imperium arrive. Last night you thought you might have a way to do that. Do you still?”

I grin at him. “I might,” I tell him, leaning forward to brace myself on the desk as I offer him a grin.

Our eyes meet, and something thrilling and fierce stirs between us, whispering of what might be.

He grins back at me and my heart skips a beat, but for once, I keep my focus…

only because I must. “Tell me again how much you trust me.”