Page 61

Morgana

“ I ’ve been basically stalking the man,” Alastor says. “He’s starting to notice.”

I sit with Tira playing cards as Leon and Alastor argue in our room at the Crossed Keys.

We’ve been back in Tread for three days now, and I can tell Leon is getting restless.

He thinks we’re wasting our time by focusing on this search for whatever Caledon was hunting down instead of strategizing how we’re going to tackle Oclanna.

But I’ve insisted we sit tight for a little while longer, which means he’s turned his agitation on Alastor instead.

“And yet you’ve learned nothing,” Leon says skeptically. Now Alastor’s back on his feet again, Leon’s not pulling any punches.

“Oh, I’ve learned lots about Harman Sandale—like how he takes his tea, and this funny noise he makes when he’s thinking hard—I just haven’t got the information you want. My power’s still not back to normal. That Mal did a real number on me. I’ll need more time.”

There’s an odd note in Alastor’s voice, and I notice a light flush on his cheeks. I wonder if he’s embarrassed about not being able to work his magic. It must seem bewildering not knowing people’s true intentions when you’re so used to being able to just ask them.

“Besides, even when I do get my powers fully back,” Alastor continues, “he’s going to notice me casually asking about any murders he was involved in fifteen years ago. He’s smart, and he’ll see past the sensic magic.”

“Let him,” Leon says. “I have no issue with him knowing I don’t trust him.”

Tira flips a card over, winning the hand, and I sigh.

“You’re not concentrating,” she chastises me. I’m not sure how I can concentrate when I’m stuck in the middle between Leon and Harman. And being cooped up in this little town isn’t helping.

There’s a knock at the door that Tira jumps up to answer.

Deedus, one of the rebels, announces, “Harman’s called a meeting. We have news.”

“Told you something would turn up,” I say to Leon as we ready ourselves to follow the rebel.

“Let’s just see what this ‘news’ is first,” Leon mutters.

We gather the rest of the fae. Instead of going back to the cellar network under the tents this time, Deedus leads us into the outskirts of Tread to something that looks like an outhouse behind a livery yard.

“Where are we going?” Leon asks, clearly irritated by the lack of explanation.

“Harman’s invited members of the Hand from the other bases. The usual cellars won’t hold us all.”

The outhouse is built up against a thick wall of stone.

I’d thought it was just a bit of old wall at first glance—indeed, that’s clearly what we’re meant to think—but now I see that the stone is a natural formation.

Deedus takes out a key and unlocks the shack, swinging the door open to reveal a steep incline down a path that must run beneath the rock.

Incendi lamps provide light as we descend. The buzz of voices grows louder as we get deeper underground.

The tunnel opens up into a cave that must be about fifty feet high.

Four long tables are arranged into a square at the center.

Three sides are filled with men and women ranging from around my age to the occasional rebel with wispy white hair.

One table has been left empty, and while there’s no break in conversation, eyes turn toward us as we enter.

“How come you didn’t tell us about this place before?” I ask Deedus.

“Because your brother doesn’t trust us any more than Leon trusts him,” Alastor says frankly.

Deedus doesn’t deny it, merely gestures for us to join the meeting.

Harman is at the center of the table to our right, and once we’re settled, he stands up. A hush falls over the group.

“Our plans have borne fruit quicker than we expected,” he says. “As most of you know, thanks to the help of Princess Morgana and Prince Leonidas, we established new spies in Hallowbane’s pleasure houses.”

Eyes turn to us once again, curious and calculating. I pretend not to notice them, keeping my own fixed on my brother as he speaks.

“They sent us a message yesterday using our aesteri network. They entertained a cleric who’d recently come from Bastion.”

I frown, murmuring to Tira on my right. “Where’s Bastion?”

“No idea,” she whispers back.

Alastor, who’s next to Leon, overhears and answers in a murmur.

“It’s further west. It’s the training school for the Temple’s acolytes.”

I blink at him in surprise. He really has been learning a lot from all this time he’s spent hovering over Harman.

“While this cleric claims not to know what Caledon was looking for in the royal territories, he did know what sparked this search.” Harman raps his fist on the table triumphantly. “It’s a codex. The Codex of Atolus , to be exact.”

“Atolus the seer?” one of the rebels asks.

“Yes, which means the codex is full of?—”

“Prophecies.” I finish his sentence without thinking, then realize I’ve drawn attention to myself.

I try not to blush as I explain. “I’ve read about Atolus.

He was a scholar and a respected star reader as well.

His predictions were reported to be quite accurate, but I thought all his texts were lost a thousand years ago. ”

“Well, Caledon found them,” Harman says. “And according to this cleric, one of the prophecies has sent him on a country-wide search. Whatever he’s looking for now must be worth killing the king and queen for.”

“It must be a source of power,” Esther says. “That’s all that greedy skunk wants.”

I’m inclined to agree. After all, he outlawed all solari just so he could get his hands on our magic.

“And this codex is in Bastion?” guesses one of the rebels, a man in his fifties with a scar through his eyebrow.

“Yes, for safekeeping. Caledon hasn’t given up on the codex revealing more valuable secrets for him to decipher.”

“So what are you proposing?” I ask, though I think I can guess.

“If we can get our hands on that codex, we’ll know what he found,” Harman says, driving his finger into the table for emphasis. “So we’ll just have to break into Bastion and steal it.”

The rebels take a moment to settle after this announcement. Deedus is the first to speak.

“Didn’t we learn our lesson after that warehouse about breaking into Temple strongholds, rather than just torching the places?” His expression is dark, overshadowed, I guess, by the memory of that night. I can hardly blame him. I only saw the aftermath, and the vivid images are still with me.

“Burning down Bastion won’t help us much if we want to read this book,” the man with the eyebrow scar replies.

“The place will be a viper’s nest,” another rebel protests.

“Baby vipers,” Harman says, raising an eyebrow. “The Bastion is full of acolytes—children and youths who’ve yet to graduate to cleric roles. They won’t be fully trained, and the Temple doesn’t raise the cleavers there. They have a separate school closer to Kestis.”

“With careful planning, we could be in and out of there without even needing to draw a weapon,” Esther says, looking around for support. The others either meet her stern gaze with nods of approval or look away, unable to stand against it.

“This is the best piece of intelligence we’ve had on Caledon in a while,” Harman says.

“But we can’t afford to sit on it for long.

If we wait, we run the risk of the Temple changing its mind and burying the codex in some far-off place where we’ll never find it or destroying it altogether.

If we want to seize this chance, we have to act fast.”

“Let’s vote on it,” Esther says. The rebels in favor of Harman’s suggestion immediately lift their hands. Esther looks to us expectantly.

“You want us to vote too?” I ask.

“Well yes, seeing as I assume you’ll be coming with us,” Harman says. “Anyone who’ll be putting their lives on the line with this decision gets a vote. That goes for our Filusian brothers and sisters too.”

I feel a ripple of reaction in the fae on either side of me. They didn’t expect to be included like this.

“As leader, Harman’s vote automatically counts for one-third of the votes cast,” Esther explains. “But if there’s high opposition, he can be overruled.”

I raise my hand in favor of the plan, and so does Tira.

I see Damia and Eryx do too, as well as Stratton.

However, Hyllus, Phaia, and Leon keep their hands lowered.

I stare into Leon’s face, looking for some hint as to his thoughts.

Is this because he still doesn’t trust Harman?

Or does he think this whole mission is a mistake?

But the shutters are down on his gray eyes, and he’s too closed off for me to read.

That just leaves Alastor. He hesitates, looking between Harman and Leon.

Then, with an apologetic glance at his captain, he raises his hand.

I try to give him a look that says he shouldn’t feel guilty.

The votes are already overwhelmingly in favor of Harman’s plan.

The Hand clearly has faith in their leader, and I do too.

I believe his cause is just, and his determination to make this world a better one is steadfast.

But Leon…Leon sees the world in more complicated ways.

To him, it’s not about right and wrong, it’s about survival and protection.

His courage and strength have kept me alive and safe.

More than that, they make him the solid, unshakable presence I always want to return to, to wrap myself up in and never let go.

Those qualities may lead him to disagree with my choice now, but I can hardly resent that.

Not when I’ve come to need them so much.

When I turn to him now, his eyes are on me, but I still can’t read his face. The meeting’s been adjourned until the rebels can draw up a preliminary strategy, and they’re peeling away in small groups to discreetly leave the cave.

“You go back to the Crossed Keys,” Leon says to me. “I need to speak to Harman.”

Anxiety gnaws at me. “Be nice,” I say. “Or least, don’t be too terrible.”

That at least earns me a small smile before I leave the cave with Tira.

“I wonder how we’ll get inside,” Tira says on our walk back to the inn. “Harman and Esther seemed pretty confident they could pull it off, so maybe they have some tricks up their sleeve. Do you think there’ll be a lot of security on this place? I mean, it’s a school, so it can’t be too bad, right?”

As she talks, the anxiety that flared up in the cave chews at me more ferociously. When I pictured this mission, Tira wasn’t anywhere near it, but the way she’s talking about it now makes it clear she intends to come.

The last time I took her anywhere, she was nearly ripped apart by the ruined.

“Tira, about Bastion…I’m not sure you should go.”

Her shoulders stiffen. “This is about Hallowbane, isn’t it?”

“It’s about keeping you safe,” I say, annoyed by the way I sound like Leon—and doubly annoyed at how much sense his perspective suddenly makes.

“And what about you?” Tira shoots back. “Do you really think after my entire family was killed, I’m going to let my best friend go off and do something dangerous without me?”

“It’s different for me,” I say miserably.

“Why?” Tira demands. “Because you’ve got some big scary fae prince watching your back?”

I wince at her tone. If she’s upset already, she’s really going to hate what I have to say next. But it does have to be said.

“No, because I can defend myself better. Tira, ever since I found out I’m a solari I’ve been training with the fae—learning how to use my magic in combat, how to fight hand to hand and with a sword. I may not be an expert, but I can hold my own. Can you really say the same?”

I see the frustrated anger rise to Tira’s face because we both know she can’t argue this point.

She’s never had to learn how to use her magic like a weapon, or how to swing a blade.

Why would she? She grew up happy and safe in Otscold, thinking she’d have an ordinary life.

And that would have been entirely true, if it weren’t for me.

“I have just as much right to fight the Temple as anyone here,” Tira says. We’ve stopped behind the inn now, and she jabs her thumb against her chest. “I’ve lost more than most of them.”

I can see how angry she is, and I know Tira’s stubborn. It’s one of the things I love about her. But that means I’m going to have to be forceful if I’m going to break through that anger and make her see sense.

“And that won’t make a blind bit of difference when we’re at the Bastion, up against clerics trying to murder us.

If you want to fight the Temple, I support you, Tira, but you have to work for it.

You saw the rebels defend themselves against the ruined in Hallowbane—they’re trained in how to use a weapon and their magic.

Right now, if you came to Bastion, you’d likely just get hurt, and that could hurt the mission too.

” I reach out and take her hand, hoping it will soften the blow of my words.

“And I really don’t want that to happen to you. ”

Tira snatches her hand back, tears shining in her eyes. “I can’t believe you,” she says. “I was there for you when you had nothing. I supported you. But obviously I was wrong to expect the same in return.”

I want to keep arguing. To tell her I am supporting her.

Instead, I let her storm away into the Crossed Keys.

I hope she just needs time to deal with the disappointment and pain of being left behind.

I’d feel the same. Maybe missing this mission will even give her a needed push, providing something to pull her out of her grief and give her focus.

Right now, I need to focus too. The last time we went up against the Temple in Otscold, I nearly died, but I’m stronger now, and this isn’t just some heist we’re planning. While we might be facing acolytes and clerics, in many ways this will be a direct attack on Caledon and his goals.

And I’m ready to take the fight to him.