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W hispers broke out from those nearby.

“Who is she?”

“Did she say she’s Nalia?”

“Did she just speak to the dragons?”

“Is that…Cora?”

“Who is the stranger beside her?”

Cora’s skin prickled as several sets of eyes fixed on her and Mareleau. Mareleau edged closer and Noah let out a small cry, drawing more eyes their way.

Ailan—or Nalia, or whatever the hell Cora was supposed to call her—whirled toward them. Voice low, she said, “Go to my wagon. I know the two of you have questions.”

“They aren’t the only ones with questions,” Salinda said, marching up beside Ailan. “You owe us all an explanation. The elders especially.”

“I know. And I will give them one. First, let us get our guests some privacy while we set everyone at ease.”

“We?” Salinda pulled her head back. Their argument was drawing even more nearby spectators. “You want me to help you put everyone’s minds at ease? I don’t even know if they should be at ease. I don’t know who you are?—”

“You know me.” Her words were firm yet kind and sounded so much like the High Elder. “Please, take my side for now. Once I’ve spoken with our guests, then with the elders, you can make your own decision.”

Salinda’s jaw shifted side to side. “Fine.”

Ailan gave her a tight smile, then faced Cora and Mareleau again. “Go to my wagon. I’ll be with you shortly.”

Cora was happy enough to oblige. With her mind still reeling, she could use a few quiet moments to collect her thoughts. Cora led Mareleau to the center of camp toward the High Elder’s wagon. In the winter months, Nalia spent her nights in an enclosed living wagon as opposed to a tent like most of the others. Cora kept her head down, and Mareleau shuffled close at her side, but most of the commune was too distracted to pay them much heed, especially under the blanket of night.

Soon they reached the wagon and climbed up the short steps to the ornate door, painted in a green, yellow, and red floral motif. The inside glowed with lantern light, illuminating the rounded ceiling, the brightly painted walls, the ornate blankets, the cramped furniture. The tiny space somehow managed to host a bed built atop a cabinet, a small nightstand, two long benches, and even a stove and countertop. More of Bernice’s herbs clouded the air, so it must be true that the witch had been tending to the High Elder. But why? The woman hadn’t been dying like everyone thought.

Cora and Mareleau sat on one of the cushioned benches. Noah hadn’t stopped fussing since he’d let out his attention-drawing cry, so Mareleau set about undoing the top of her nursing gown to feed him. Cora nestled into the corner of the bench and drew her knees to her chest. That was when she realized she was still clutching the collar. Thanks to whatever Ailan had said to the dragons, she no longer needed to use it on Mareleau. For now, at least. She stuffed it back in her pocket.

“Well, this certainly could have gone better,” Mareleau said. Her dry tone gave Cora some sense of normalcy to cling to. “You truly had no idea?”

“That our High Elder, who we all assumed was a Faeryn descendent, was living a double life as a legendary Elvyn royal? Not a clue.”

Mareleau huffed a cold laugh. “I can’t tell if the whole name reversal is utter brilliance or the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.”

Cora heartily agreed.

Mareleau’s eyes wandered the inside of the wagon as she nursed her son. “So…this is how you lived for six years?”

“No, this is luxury,” Cora said. “I lived in a tent.”

“A tent? Like the first one we entered, with the messy furs and lack of furniture?”

“Salinda is renowned for her disorderliness. But yes, I lived in a tent like that. With Salinda’s daughter, Maiya.” Her chest squeezed at the name. She hadn’t seen Maiya in the crowd earlier, but it would have been nearly impossible to notice her in the chaos anyway.

“How did you do it? How did you go from being a princess to a runaway living in the woods without losing your mind?”

Cora shook her head. “I didn’t have much of a choice. Morkai released me from Ridine’s dungeon and sent his Roizan after me. The woods were my only option. I’m lucky the Forest People found me, otherwise…” She shuddered to think of what might have happened. She’d have starved or perhaps been eaten by some wild creature. She’d always been grateful that the Forest People had happened upon her when she’d been aimlessly wandering, but only now did she grasp just how miraculous it was. At twelve, she hadn’t known how large her kingdom was, or how vast and unpopulated the forests. She’d had no reason to believe there weren’t dozens of communes like the one that had found her.

Yet now she knew there was only one. And it had found her before any dangers had.

Another shudder ripped through her, but this time it carried a feeling that was somehow both heavy and light at the same time. It prickled her skin like a thousand tiny threads brushing over her, radiating with some potent energy?—

“Did you like it here?” Mareleau’s question pulled Cora from her thoughts.

She shook the strange feeling away. “I did. I loved it. No matter how much I love my kingdom, my castle, and Teryn, the Forest People will always feel like another home to me.”

They sat in silence for a while longer. Or something like silence. Outside the camp, voices could still be heard. Footsteps. Commotion. She was glad not to be part of it, not because she didn’t want to help, but because it wouldn’t be welcomed or needed. The Forest People may be her second home, but very few considered her family anymore.

The door finally opened and Ailan marched up the steps into the wagon, followed by Salinda and Bernice. “Thank you for waiting for me,” Ailan said to Cora and Mareleau as she settled upon her bed. Salinda and Bernice claimed the other long bench, both wearing disgruntled expressions.

Mareleau had finished nursing Noah—who was now awake yet content—and shifted closer to Cora as if she wanted to be as far away from the Elvyn woman as possible.

“I still think this conversation should happen in the presence of the elders,” Bernice said.

“And I insist that I speak separately with them,” Ailan said. “Otherwise, we’ll spend an hour arguing over whether Cora should be here. Besides, we’ll have a much fuller picture to share once we address the reason she and her friend have come.”

“They came here to find you, Ailan .” Salinda said the name with no small amount of ire. She shook her head. “I don’t even know what to call you.”

“Call me Ailan or Nalia. The latter has been my name for five hundred years. Longer than I was called Ailan.”

“Why did you choose that name anyway?” Cora said, her voice coming out smaller than she wanted.

“If you know who I am, then I take it you know about my history? The battle with my brother? The Veil my mother wove to lock him out of El’Ara?”

Cora nodded.

“Then you know that Lela was once a piece of El’Ara,” Ailan said. “When Satsara sealed off her unfinished Veil, it pushed the remaining, unwarded land into the human world. My brother and I were henceforth trapped here. Darius used his worldwalking abilities to return to his father’s island kingdom, Syrus, while I remained here. Yet soon I realized the Veil was affecting my memories. I began to lose them. This was a good thing where my brother was concerned, for it seemed he’d forgotten even sooner than I had, losing even his memory of Lela’s existence.

“For me, forgetting was a tragedy. I didn’t want to forget lest I was still needed in El’Ara. Lest there was any way I could figure out how to return to my home. Still, the memories slipped away. I forgot the name of the fae realm. I forgot that I’d come from another realm at all. I did my best to record what I did recall, and I passed that on to the Faeryn who’d been trapped outside the Veil, and later to their descendants. After a brief sojourn in human society, I settled with the Forest People for good, and they accepted me as one of their own. By then, I couldn’t remember much, but I knew we needed to protect this piece of land called Lela. I chose a moniker that would allow me to keep some semblance of my former self intact.”

“Why do you look like this?” Bernice asked, eying Ailan through slitted lids. “You asked me to suppress your magic over the last several days, and each day you’ve appeared younger. I held my questions upon your order, but if this is a time for answers, I’d like to know why you’ve had me keeping secrets from the rest of the commune.”

“This is my true appearance,” Ailan explained. “High Fae cease aging when they reach maturity and can maintain the same appearance until they take Last Breath.”

Cora puzzled over the last two words. She stated them like they were a specific title, though the meaning felt like death . Was Last Breath the Elvyn term for dying?

Ailan spoke again. “My aging was another effect of the Veil. With only a slight connection to the magic that fuels my immortal life—the magic that seeps from El’Ara—I aged like a human. And yet, the small amount of magic I receive has been enough to allow me to continue living. Then five days ago, I felt a surge of magic. An increase of mora pouring through the Veil, unlike anything I’ve felt since living on this side of the ward.”

Cora’s muscles stiffened. “The tear in the Veil.”

Ailan nodded. “Not only did my memories return, but I began to age in reverse. I kept to my wagon, unsure how to address what was happening?—”

“You hid from us,” Salinda said.

“Call it what you like, but I did what I felt was necessary. My whispers told me to wait.”

Salinda pulled her head back. “What do you mean by your whispers ?”

“I’m a truthweaver,” Ailan said. “That’s my Elvyn ability. Like a witch who’s an oracle or seer, I weave threads that seek truth and receive guidance in return. The whispers of my weavings told me to stay. Wait. But then the dragons came.”

Cora’s eyes darted from Ailan to Bernice. “Is that why you had Bernice suppress your magic? To hide from them?”

“I wasn’t ready for them to find me.”

Anger heated Cora’s blood. She sat forward on the bench and spoke through her teeth. “Instead, you let them find her.” She gestured toward Mareleau. “Instead, you let them attack my castle. My people. You let them burn crops and…and let their flames take lives.”

Ailan’s face fell but she said nothing.

Cora spoke again. “You spoke to them tonight. You made them leave the camp. Does that mean you could have sent them away from the start? Could you have sent them back to El’Ara if you hadn’t been hiding from them?”

“I didn’t send them back to El’Ara. I ordered them to wait for me until morning. To find a safe place to nest away from people. Uziel is my bonded dragon. Now that he’s found me, he won’t leave my side. And Ferrah is young and reckless. Neither will return to El’Ara until I do. Which I will soon.”

“Why did you wait? If you can return to El’Ara, you should have done so as soon as you knew the dragons were looking for you.”

“I told you,” Ailan said. “My whispers said to wait?—”

“Your whispers are flawed.”

“They never speak without reason.”

Cora scoffed. “What reason could your whispers have had for allowing dragons to wreak havoc on my kingdom? Or do they only care for the fae realm?”

Ailan lifted her chin, refusing to be cowed by Cora’s growing rage. “I see three reasons sitting before me now. Three people they clearly wanted me to join before my return.”

Cora’s eyes widened as she realized Ailan was referring to her, Mareleau, and Noah. The latter two she could understand, but why had she included Cora? She’d lost her place in the prophecy—no, she’d never had a place.

“What do my son and I have to do with this?” Mareleau said. “What is his role in this ridiculous prophecy? You do see he’s a baby, right? Yet your brother is targeting Khero and Vera now . What can Noah do to stop the Blood of Darius, or whatever the prophecy says?”

Ailan’s expression softened, as did her tone. “Blood of my blood, I wish I had all the answers. Time and again, I’ve cast truthweavings, yet my whispers tell me the same things every time. Things I’m sure you already know. I’ve even shared these whispers—what you call the prophecy —with the elders, as it was the one way I could try to protect this land should I perish before my brother. I don’t know much more about the prophecy than you likely do, but without a doubt, you are my kin, and he is my heir. He is the true Morkara of El’Ara.”

Mareleau pulled Noah closer to her chest. “But what does that mean? What do you expect him to do? The prophecy states that Noah will unite three crowns and return El’Ara’s heart. That he will end the Blood of Darius. Does that not refer to him coming of age and inheriting three kingdoms? Facing Darius?”

Ailan furrowed her brow. “Inheriting three kingdoms?”

“Noah is the heir to Vera,” Cora explained, “which was merged from two kingdoms already. And I…I considered naming him my heir as well, as he’s my husband’s nephew.” She pursed her lips before she could say a word more. Before she could admit that she couldn’t have an heir of her own because of the curse Morkai had placed upon her.

Ailan’s eyes went unfocused as she considered. “I can see your reasoning for interpreting it that way, but it could mean many things. Prophecies are never infallible. They are merely whispers of one’s weaving, open to interpretation. Their very nature makes them deceptive, which is why they often come to fruition in unexpected ways, even when one tries to stop them.”

A flicker of anger ignited in Cora’s chest. She knew plenty about that. She was the victim of such misguided interpretation.

Ailan continued. “First of all, my whispers never said Noah would face Darius, only that his birth would tear the Veil and set into motion Darius’ end. That has already begun. As for uniting three crowns, it could refer to uniting the three kingdoms of Lela like you’ve surmised, or it could refer to uniting two human kingdoms with El’Ara. Returning El’Ara’s heart…well, that part is both essential and inevitable, but it doesn’t mean he’ll physically do it himself. You, however,” she said, shifting her gaze to Cora. “I’m uncertain of your role.”

Cora bristled. “My role? I have no place in this prophecy. Morkai thought I was the mother, and many of his actions revolved around that assumption. But he was wrong. He focused so much on me, he never guessed the true mother was meant to be Mareleau.” Every word burned like fire on her tongue, but she kept her expression steady.

“You may not have been named in the prophecy, but you have been drawn in nonetheless. Maybe you were always meant to protect Mareleau. To serve as a decoy for my kin.” She smiled indulgently, like she was bestowing some great honor upon Cora.

“Decoy,” Cora echoed, voice cold. All the anger she’d tried to hold back now flooded her, sending her fingers curling into her palms. “Do you know what Morkai did to me as a decoy ?”

Ailan’s eyes went wide but she gave no reply.

“Are you saying that I suffered for some grand purpose? That I was cursed in her place by design? That I was toyed with all so I could protect her —” The bitter tang that coated the last word silenced her. Fire filled her vision, reminding her of the nightmare she’d had the night before her wedding, when Morkai had taunted her using Mareleau’s life.

Should it have been her?

Devils, no, of course it shouldn’t have been Mareleau. Morkai shouldn’t have cursed either of them.

Flames danced in her mind again, and she saw another flash from that dream, how even though she’d saved her friend from the duke’s clutches, Mareleau had burned to ash as soon as Cora had touched her.

I am the shadow you won’t acknowledge. I am the ember you wish you could smother .

She forced the echoes from the nightmare away until the tightness in her chest eased. Reluctantly, she met Mareleau’s gaze. Her friend had gone a shade paler.

Cora shrank back. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that.”

Mareleau gave her a sad smile. “You’re allowed to mean it like that. I wouldn’t blame you for resenting me for what was done to you.”

Tears glazed her eyes. “I don’t, Mare. You’re my friend. I could never resent you. That…that isn’t me.”

Salinda leaned forward and patted Cora’s knee. While she appreciated the woman’s attempt at consolation, the pity that clouded the wagon was potent enough to smother her.

She forced herself to sit taller, burying her unpleasant emotions until she could speak with calm. “I don’t have a place in this prophecy.”

“You do,” Ailan said, not bothering to add to the sympathy that poured from the others. In that moment, Cora was grateful to the woman. Ailan’s perspective may enrage Cora, but at least the Elvyn wasn’t going to pander to her. “Whether you like it or not, you have become a part of this. I can feel the threads woven around you, linking you to my kin, to me. I never felt them when you lived in the commune before, but maybe I hadn’t been looking then. Even so, my whispers drew me to you from the start, long before I knew why.”

Cora remembered how she’d shivered at the imagined feeling of threads brushing her skin earlier. She’d been recalling how the Forest People had found her and realizing how miraculous that was. Had Ailan been the reason they’d crossed paths in the first place? Had she been following her whispers the day they’d found her stumbling through the woods?

Another shiver prickled her flesh, along with that strange brush of threads again.

“Maybe you’re more than just a decoy,” Ailan said, again without warmth. Without pity. “Maybe you have a more proactive role to play. Whatever the case, I don’t think we are meant to wait for Noah to come of age and act on his own. The whispers tell me the time is now.”

“Now…what?” Mareleau asked.

“Now,” Ailan said, “we find the tear in the Veil. Lead the dragons. And return to El’Ara. Together.”