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I t tore Teryn up something fierce to find Cora crying like this. His soul felt as if it were being ripped from his body all over again. His first thought upon finding her sobbing in the hall was that some great tragedy had befallen Mareleau or the child. But how? It had only been minutes since he and Larylis had awoken from where they’d haphazardly dozed on the furniture in Teryn’s suite to the news that Larylis was officially a father. Larylis had left with Helena and must already be inside. Could something have happened in those few extra minutes he’d given his brother to meet his son in private?

As he wrapped his arms around Cora, he understood that wasn’t the case. The way his fiancée trembled in his arms, teeth gritted, hands curled around the fabric of his jacket, told him this was not a shared grief but a personal one. And the way she wailed “It was never me” over and over sent a chill down his spine.

Once she calmed enough to separate from him, he ushered her swiftly down the hall to her quarters. Everything inside him wanted to scoop her up and carry her into her room, but she was the queen of this castle. He would not cause a spectacle if he could avoid it. Where he couldn’t draw the line, however, was at being alone with her. Propriety could go to the seven devils, as could the bewildered maid who tried to argue as he ordered her out of Cora’s suite.

With the door slammed shut and privacy secured, Teryn led Cora to the wingback chair before the roaring hearth. It was afternoon, but the late winter chill was prevalent. He hoped the heat would ease her tremors, though he knew better than to think they were due to the cold. Regardless, she had to be at least somewhat chilly, as she was still dressed in the same ensemble he’d last seen her in—the same robe and chemise that had graced his bedroom floor last night.

No longer racked with sobs, Cora settled into the chair, eyes unfocused. Teryn’s chest tightened at the sight of her, at her empty expression, her red-rimmed eyes. He wanted to comfort her, assure her, hold her, but he didn’t know what kind of comfort she needed right now. There was a chance she wanted to be alone. It wouldn’t be the first time. The last time he’d found her crying, she’d asked for exactly that, and he’d acquiesced against his every instinct. If she pushed him away now, would he have the strength to grant that request?

Daring neither to get too close nor pull away too far, he settled for kneeling before the chair, his hand softly covering hers. “Cora,” he whispered, eyes searching her dark, empty irises. “What happened?”

She said nothing for several long moments, but that was better than her asking him to leave. Finally, her gaze sharpened and focused on Teryn. Her lower lip quivered, sending a spear of pain through his chest.

“I’m not…” She cleared her throat, blinked away fresh tears, and tried again. “I’m not the mother from Emylia’s prophecy.”

Silence.

Such agonizing silence.

But he didn’t dare speak yet. She wasn’t finished with her tale, and she needed the freedom to express her pain on her own terms. In her own time.

Cora’s throat bobbed before she spoke again. “Mareleau is. She always was. It was never me.”

Questions surged through his mind, but he tightened his jaw to keep them at bay. Not yet. He couldn’t hound her with questions yet.

Instead, he gave her hand a soft squeeze. With the other, he slowly lifted his fingertips to her cheek and wiped away the trail of tears glinting in the firelight. Keeping his voice steady, he asked, “Do you want to talk about it?”

Her gaze went distant again, but she eventually gave a nod. “Yes. I need logic right now.”

She stood and approached the fireplace. Teryn rose to his feet and followed, leaning against the wall beside the hearth, his arm propped on the mantle. Then she told him. She explained what had happened in Mareleau’s room and the revelations she’d had. She told him all the reasons she believed Mareleau to be the true prophesied mother. Mareleau was very likely a witch, and it made sense for her to be the Blood of Ailan too. More sense than Cora, at least.

Teryn could see why she thought that. Cora had been forced to try to bond with a dragon in El’Ara, something only those of the Morkara’s bloodline could do. The attempt had failed miserably. Though there had been reasons to explain it—she’d removed the collar too late, her Elvyn blood was too diluted—it made the most sense that she simply wasn’t of Ailan’s lineage.

“Every time I stated that I was descended from Ailan,” Cora said, voice hollow as she watched the dancing flames, “it always felt wrong. It always felt like a lie. I’d thought it was because I wasn’t confident in claiming such a significant role in the prophecy, but the truth is that…it wasn’t me.”

Teryn reached out and brushed his knuckles against hers, a silent reminder that he was here. He was listening.

She spoke again. “As for Valorre, he was chased from El’Ara by the dragons who’d sensed Mareleau’s awakening magic. Valorre was able to pierce the Veil with his horn, but when he reached the other side, his memories were compromised.”

Something flickered across her expression. Hurt or rage, he wasn’t sure, but this had to pain her. Valorre was her best friend and familiar. Meeting him must have felt like fate, the one solace that came from being entangled in the web of prophecy.

Yet now she had no place in that prophecy. She’d only met Valorre because he’d unwittingly been looking for someone else. Worse was that which she’d yet to say.

That she’d been cursed in Mareleau’s place.

She, who had no part in the prophecy, had been hurt and abused because of Morkai’s misinterpretation of Emylia’s words. Not that he could wish Cora’s fate on Mareleau. She was his sister-in-law, the woman Larylis loved. She was Cora’s friend.

But to say he didn’t feel the slightest bit of resentment that she’d been granted the safety of a coddled childhood while Cora had been running for her godsdamned life would be a lie.

“This is my fault.” The voice startled him, for it didn’t belong to Cora. He straightened and found Emylia beside him, between him and Cora. Her eyes were on his fiancée, her semi-transparent form rippling with tremors. “I did this.”

Cora shook her head and faced Teryn, oblivious to the apparition standing beside her. “Valorre has all his memories back. It happened suddenly?—”

“I’m so sorry,” Emylia’s voice cut over Cora’s, and Teryn tried to tune it out. He couldn’t acknowledge her presence, for Cora didn’t know about Teryn’s uncanny new ability.

“—which makes me wonder if the Veil has torn.”

“This is why I can’t move on,” Emylia wailed.

“What do you think?” asked Cora.

Teryn opened his mouth, but Emylia spoke first. “This is why I’m plagued with guilt.”

“Emylia,” he barked, unable to ignore her a second longer.

Both Cora and the spirit stiffened. Cora frowned. “What about Emylia?”

Closing his eyes, he rubbed his brow.

“I’m sorry, Teryn,” Emylia whispered. “I didn’t mean to intrude. I didn’t realize you could see me again.”

“Well, I can, and you are intruding. This is a private conversation.”

“Wait…” Cora’s voice had him opening his eyes with a resigned sigh. “Are you…talking to Emylia right now ?”

He supposed there was no better time to tell her. “Yes.”

“How?”

“Ever since I returned to my body last summer,” he explained, “I’ve been able to see spirits. Emylia is the only one who has communicated with me. She’s been watching over you.”

Emylia clasped her hands to her chest. “Tell her I’m sorry.”

“She says she’s sorry.”

“Tell her this is all my fault. Tell her I don’t know how I’ll make up for what I’ve done. Tell her I?—”

“Emylia,” he said, a warning in his tone, “I get it.” Then to Cora, he said, “She feels incredible guilt for her part in channeling the prophecy. She hasn’t been able to move on to the otherlife and hopes she can atone.”

Cora’s expression hardened, and he didn’t miss the way her fingers curled into fists at her sides. Then she averted her gaze to the fire and folded her arms over her chest. “It was a mistake, but I can’t hold it against her. Nor can she be blamed for the actions Morkai took based on the conclusions he came to.”

Her voice sounded dry and rehearsed but it seemed to appease Emylia. Her form ceased its trembling. “If there’s anything I can do to help, please tell me,” Emylia said.

“She wants to help,” Teryn conveyed.

“Has she learned anything useful as a spirit, now that she’s been freed from the crystal?” Cora asked.

“She confirmed that the current King Darius Solaria of Syrus is indeed Morkai’s father.”

“That’s hardly news,” Cora countered, though her words lacked bite. “We already guessed as much. Does she know what his plans are? Is he using Norun to wage war on Khero?”

Emylia shook her head. “I don’t know about his current plans. All I know is that he sought El’Ara and likely still seeks it. If he’s learned what Morkai discovered—that Lela is the Heart of El’Ara—he might seek to invade Khero to gain access to the Veil, with the goal of finding a way to cross it. Since the Veil surrounds the entirety of Lela, he might not stop at targeting Khero either. He might try to conquer Vera too, just to ensure he can freely search every inch of the Veil.”

Teryn conveyed Emylia’s words, then added to Cora, “At least we know he’s physically weak. And that he doesn’t know what you know—that unicorns can pierce the Veil and that a worldwalker can use them to enter El’Ara.”

“Yes, but there is an additional concern,” Cora said. “The prophecy stated that the Veil would tear when the true Morkara was born. The latter has happened, so we must assume the former has too. Valorre suddenly got all his memories back this morning?—”

Her words cut off, and Teryn was certain they were thinking the same thing. “Darius might have his memories back too.” He looked at Emylia for confirmation.

She shrugged. “Morkai said his father had been cursed to forget El’Ara, but he didn’t say how or why. It could have been the Veil that had made him forget.”

“Which means a tear in the Veil could return his lost memories,” Teryn said. Seven devils, if Darius had his memories back, if he could recall the land he’d once left, the land that had once been a piece of El’Ara, could he worldwalk straight here? Cora had told Teryn about the war she’d learned of in El’Ara, and how Darius had used his power to bring in human armies. Did that mean he could worldwalk with multiple people in tow? Did he even need to ally with Norun to accomplish his goals?

Cora took in a sharp breath. “What if the Veil was also the cause of Darius’ physical weakness? What if…”

A chill shot through him. She didn’t need to finish. If Darius was no longer weak, they might soon face a formidable foe.

“What does this mean for us?” Cora asked. “What’s going to happen?”

“I don’t know.” They locked eyes, and his shoulders grew heavy. There were still so many unanswered questions. Some Teryn wasn’t ready to voice; primarily, if they had to choose between war with Darius or complying with him, would it be better to simply give him access to the Veil? Would it really be so wrong to condemn El’Ara, if it rid the human world of such a great threat? Or was Darius as ambitious as his son? Would he use his power as Morkaius of El’Ara to harm the human world too? Teryn knew one thing; there wouldn’t be any easy answers.

“At least we hold intel he doesn’t have.” Cora kept her voice low as if she feared the very walls would carry her secrets to their enemy. “He doesn’t know about Mareleau and Noah. He doesn’t know about my and Valorre’s ability to cross the Veil.”

Teryn nodded. “We should do whatever we can to stop word of Noah’s birth from spreading. If Darius finds out a royal child was born under the black mountain , that could be all he needs to put the pieces together.”

“You’re right,” Cora said. “We need to keep his birth a secret. Hopefully we can stop rumors from spreading before it’s too late.” She turned on her heel and marched toward the door.

Teryn caught her hand in his, halting her. “Where are you going?”

“I need to tell Helena not to announce Noah’s birth. And…and I need to tell Mareleau the truth.”

He took a step closer. “You’ve been awake for over a day. Rest. I can speak to Helena and Larylis. He can tell Mareleau.”

She pursed her lips, and the fatigue tugging at her features made it clear she was at least tempted by his offer. She shook her head. “No, I should be the one to tell Mareleau. I want to be there for her.” Her jaw tightened when she said the last part, but he didn’t comment on it.

“Let me at least deal with Helena then. Let me bear this burden with you.”

Her shoulders dropped and a sad smile worked the corners of her lips. “All right.”

He gathered her face in his hands and forced her to hold his eyes. “Sleep as soon as you’ve spoken to Mareleau. Promise me.”

She nodded. Then, with a parting kiss, he let her go.

His chest tightened as she left the room. It had pained him to see Cora cry earlier, but it pained him just as badly to see her so composed. So determined. She must be smothering her grief. Burying it. Yet he could relate. After his father had died, he’d buried his emotions in a flurry of activity and constant motion. How could he tell her not to do the same?

“I’ll go home to Zaras,” Emylia said, reminding him of her presence. He found her colorless form bent before the fireplace, staring longingly at the undulating flames. He wondered if she yearned to feel their heat. “It’s the closest I can get to Syrus. Perhaps I can uncover some useful information about Darius.”

“Thank you,” Teryn said.

Her face crumpled as she straightened and faced Teryn. “I really am sorry. I’ve caused her so much pain.”

“I know.”

With that, Emylia’s form rippled and dispersed until nothing of her remained.

Teryn blew out a heavy breath, steeled his nerves, and left Cora’s room to nip a rumor in the bud. Hopefully he could cut it down before it had a chance to take root outside these walls.