Page 42 of Prisoner of Darkness and Dreams (Fated to the Sun and Stars #3)

Leon

“ D oes it really take this long to bring around horses?” Alastor sighs, tapping his fingers against his knee.

“They’re probably making us wait on purpose,” Mal says darkly. “To punish us for daring to suggest they help us stop a war.”

“Perhaps,” Alastor comments. “Although you think they’d want to see the back of us as soon as possible.”

He’s right. The dryads want us gone, and my guess is their slowness in getting rid of us is simply because they’re not used to the logistics of playing hosts.

So here we are, sitting around in the hall of the residences, ready and packed but not yet able to go.

Tira and Phaia are discussing the Agathyrian decor while Mal and Alastor exchange complaints.

“Any particular reason you’re so impatient to leave, Alastor?” I ask mildly.

He throws me an annoyed look. “Yes, I have reasons,” he says but doesn’t elaborate. I’m surprised, actually, that he hasn’t brought the subject up to me by now. It’s not in Alastor’s nature to be secretive. As Ana comes in, I make a mental note to speak to him when we have a moment of privacy.

I stand, scanning over Ana to see if everything’s okay. But I don’t really need to look at her to gauge her mood. I can feel it. Sometimes even before she does .

Right now, she’s sad. Unexpectedly so.

“I was just saying goodbye to Etusca,” she says. “She offered to make the journey back to the border with us, but I turned her down.” She sighs, her shoulder sagging. “It’s harder than I thought it would be to leave her now that we’re trying to mend things.”

“You didn’t get to say a proper goodbye last time when there was so much hurt between you,” I point out.

“And when you parted ways before that, you didn’t have any choice in the matter.

” Because I’d dragged her out of the palace—but no need to say that.

“This is your first time parting when you’re actually on good terms.”

She nods, accepting my explanation.

“Tell me about what happened with you in the meeting,” she says, clearly looking for a distraction. “You had an idea when we were talking about the tokens of Ethira.”

“Ah, yes,” I say, sweeping my eyes across the room, then bringing her to sit down with the others when I’m sure it’s only our party around.

“I was thinking about Caledon looking for the artifacts, and whether he might have found any yet. Then it occurred to me: that’s what Parvus must have been doing at Vastamae.”

Her eyes widen. “Do you think so?”

“Remember Proctor Gallis saying that he’d been searching through the archives?

My guess is Caledon sent him there because he wanted to find out about one of Ethira’s artifacts.

Either there’s information there about where one of the objects is hidden or maybe they were hoping to find the object itself. ”

“You really think it’s possible there was one there, hidden right under our noses?” she asks.

“The Lyceum holds many important magical objects for Filusia, not just books and records,” I explain. “There’s so many secrets buried in that place, they could be holding one of the artifacts and not realize it.”

“Then we have to thank the gods Parvus was killed before he could find anything to take to Caledon,” Ana says .

“And if we can find an artifact there, we can cut Caledon’s quest for immortality off at the root. The dryads said you need all four objects to combine them—if we get to just one of them first, he’ll never succeed.”

“And if Caledon already has anything he could have gotten from the Lyceum?” she asks. “He could’ve sent another member of the Morelium since we left.”

“I’d be surprised. A theft from Vastamae is the kind of news I’d hear about. But let’s check. We can send a message to my brother and the mages asking for their help finding out what and where this object is likely to be—or who might have left behind written records of it.”

“Vastamae may be good at keeping secrets, but your grandfather is even better at finding them out,” Alastor pipes up, and I realize most of the group have been listening to our conversation. “Don’t you think he’d have taken the artifact for himself rather than let Vastamae keep it?”

“Yes,” I say. “Which is why I’m confident he doesn’t know about it. You’re right that if there was a powerful token once belonging to a god at Vastamae, he’d have claimed it for himself and—more importantly—he’d have used it already.”

“I’ll go,” Phaia says, standing up. “I’ll take the message to Prince Fairon and the mages.”

Phaia is usually the calm one, cool and placid, but right now she has an eager energy. Her eyes shine brightly at me, and her expression is determined.

“I’m sorry, Phaia,” I say. “But the answer is no.”

Her eyebrows rise, and she takes a step forward. “But captain?—”

“I know why you want to take the message, and I’m aware you’ve been away from Helia for too long.” I give her a meaningful look. “I know how much you miss her, believe me.”

It is the first time I can honestly claim I know what Phaia’s going through.

“You’re sure you need me here?” Phaia asks, unable to hide the note of defeat in her voice .

“It’s not that,” I say. “It’s Lavail I’m worried about. The moment any of my soldiers step foot in the city, my grandfather will know about it. And the first thing he would do is summon you and compel you to tell him everything you know about our activities.”

“And she’d be forced to answer,” Ana says, understanding my meaning.

“Exactly. A monarch’s orders outrank a captain’s, even if that captain is the King’s Sword. And if we want to avoid this artifact falling into my grandfather’s hands, sending you is too risky.”

“What about me?” The voice comes from behind Phaia, and the soldier steps aside to look down at Tira. This close together, the height difference between them is more noticeable than ever, but Tira stands tall and confident despite her short stature.

“I’ve been to the Filusian court before. I know the way. And the king doesn’t have any authority over me. I could take the message.”

She wants to prove herself. After her mistake in the forest, after all the training she’s been doing, she wants to show she can be an asset. I respect that, but I can already sense the alarm pouring off of Ana.

“No, Tira. It’s too far. It’s too dangerous ?—”

“Is it?” Tira interrupts Ana. “I know humans are unusual in Filusia, but they’re not targeted or abused—right?” She looks to us for confirmation. Of course, Alastor gets there first.

“You might get a few odd looks or comments, but it would be no more dangerous a journey than through Trova, at least until you got to the palace.”

“Alastor!” Ana says.

“What?” He holds his hands up. “It’s the truth.”

“He has a point, my love,” I say, though I suspect my term of endearment doesn’t soften the blow. Ana looks at me with a betrayed expression. Still, I press on. “Tira’s right that my grandfather can’t compel her to tell him anything.”

“There’s more than one way of compelling someone,” Ana says grimly, and I know she’s thinking of the torture Caledon put her through. I take her hand, wanting to offer as much comfort as I can. She frowns at me but doesn’t pull away.

“That’s a line he won’t cross, I promise you. Interrogating the close friend of a foreign monarch would be too aggressive even for him.”

“Especially if Morgana made her a royal emissary,” Phaia says. “He really couldn’t touch her then.”

“What’s that?” Tira asks.

“It’s a kind of diplomat afforded certain immunities in a foreign court,” Phaia explains.

“That doesn’t mean she’ll be safe!” Ana says. “She can’t go all the way to Filusia on her own.”

“ She gets a say in what she does,” Tira says, her voice hard. “Even if her best friend is a queen in waiting.”

“And she won’t be on her own,” Phaia says. “At least, not for most of the journey. I’ll get her to the Lyceum and most of the way to Lavail. Even if I can’t go there myself,” she adds, meeting my eye.

I nod thanks to her for understanding, then offer her a ray of hope.

“If Helia can be careful—if you can swear my grandfather won’t get wind of it—then I have no issue with her taking a trip to the Lyceum and meeting you there,” I say. I’m not so heartless that I would deny Phaia the chance to be with her beloved if it’s possible without endangering the mission.

Gratitude lights up Phaia’s face, and she bows her head. “Thank you, captain.”

“And when Tira’s alone in Lavail? At the palace?” Ana says, crossing her arms. “Do I need to remind everyone that the last time we were there, Respen nearly fed me to an aisthekis?”

“ Nearly being the operative word,” Alastor says.

“What’s an aisthe...thingy?” Mal asks the blond fae under his breath.

“Giant spider, twelve legs, very unfriendly,” Alastor summarizes .

“Precisely,” Ana says. “And you can’t expect Respen will be friendly either, just because Tira’s my emissary.”

“I don’t need him to be,” Tira says, facing off directly against her friend.

“I’m not a sheltered village girl anymore, Ana.

I’ve been training with the Hand; you saw me in Qimorna—I’m good at defending myself.

And if I can spend a lifetime dodging drunks and dealing with bar fights in the inn, I can probably be wily enough to give Respen the slip when he tries to uncover our secrets. ”

“And Fairon is healthy now,” I say to Tira. “I’ll tell him to look out for you in my message.”

I turn to Ana next. “My brother won’t let any harm come to her. He’s much more sensible than I am.” I squeeze her hand, and her body relaxes a little.

“It seems I’m running out of arguments,” she says, though her expression is still conflicted.

“There’s nothing to argue,” Tira says, her voice softening as she steps forward to squeeze Ana’s free hand. “Let me do this. I’ve felt so useless. Now I have a chance to hurt the man who killed my brother. This is my purpose, Ana.”