Page 121 of Silvercloak

That deminite shard was going to kill him. It was just a matter of when.

THE KING’S PROPHET WAS WAITING OUTSIDE LEVAN’S CHAMBERS,one soft-heeled foot pressed flat on the wall he was leaning against. His dark red hair was like molten copper beneath the lamplight, and his pale, freckled skin danced with shadows. He peered irritably at a goldenjade pocketwatch.

“Levan’s otherwise engaged,” Saffron said, without preamble. “He sends his apologies.”

Harrow looked up, frowning. “Is everything alright? He never misses our … communions.”

The image of that impaled hand sent a shiver down her spine. “Something came up.”

“Hopefully not hisvock,” Harrow said mildly. “Do you have him tied up in a dungeon somewhere? He always did like the, ah,firmerrestraints.”

Saffron snorted at the accidental accuracy. “Yes. Exactly.”

“Well, I suppose I’ll be off, then.” Harrow dropped his heel to the ground, standing up to his full height, which was at least half a foot shorter than Saffron. “I don’t usually frequent the pleasurehouses—unbecoming, for a King’s Prophet—but my well is especiallydrytoday.”

He turned to leave, and an idea came to her.

“Harrow, wait.”

Swiveling on his boot, he quirked a brow.

“Are you an Augurest?” she asked.

Just because he didn’t shave his head and tattoo his eyelids didn’t mean he wasn’t harboring radical beliefs. Historically, most Foreseers swore fealty to the Five Augurs. And if this was the case, he would want to see a Timeweaver like her eradicated.

“Absolutely not.” His laughter was high and bright, like the peal of a church bell. “Just like I’m not loyal to any crown, I’m not loyal to any religion either. My only true faith is pleasure.”

“And have you always had the gift of prophecy?”

“Ever since I was a boy.” His voice was arch, well educated, the subtle Bellandrian accent adding a marbled lilt. “They came so thick and fast I struggled to discern between tenses, for a while. Never quite knew what had already happened, what was currently happening, or what wasgoingto happen. My parents thought I was talking in riddles half the time. Why do you ask?”

She was surprised by his openness, but supposed he had no fundamental reason to distrust her.

“I’ve never had a knack for it myself, but I touched an artifact several months ago, and it showed me a glimpse of … something.” She talked quickly, breathlessly. It was the first she’d spoken of the prophecy in over a year. “Do you think that could’ve been a real vision? Or at least an echo of one? Or does the fact I have no foreseeing power mean it’s impossible, and I might have just banged my head a little?”

An amused smirk notched a dimple in Harrow’s cheek. “Hadyou banged your head a little?”

“I don’t know,” Saffron admitted. “It’s all a bit of a blur.”

She didn’t know why she felt the need to ask—Aspar had confirmed the prophecy was real in the hours that followed. And yet the captain had devoted her entire life to the Augurs, and so her faith in the power of prophecy was inherently stauncher than most. For some reason, Harrow’s libertine perspective held more weight.

Saff didn’t know, either, why she so desperatelywantedhim to tell her it had likely been an illusion, a mirage. A trick of the light. She didn’t knowwhyshe so badly did not want to kill the kingpin’s son.

Harrow leaned back against the wall. As he shifted, Saff caught the scents of honeywine and sandalwood. “Well, my Five Augurs history is a little wanting,but many scholars believe that wands from that era could store prophecies cast long ago.”

Saff absently patted Rasso’s head. He was whining; she’d forgotten to feed him amongst all the chaos. She’d need to send a servant for some fresh ewe hearts. “But there would only be five of said wands, wouldn’t there? And the first four are locked away in the Museum of Verdivenne.”

“Oh, no.” He smoothed a loose strand of red hair from his face. “Foreseers were so common back then that most people could conjure a vision or two. They were usually mundane—foretelling weather patterns was the best most could hope for—but there was the occasional big ticket vision.”

“But that was a thousand years ago. The prophecy I saw related to something that might happen in the next few weeks or months. Could they have foreseen an event that was over a thousand years away from coming to pass?”

“Er, possibly?”

“And why show itself tome?” Saff went on, a year of questions tumbling out of her like small rocks loosening before a landslide. “Someone with no foreseeing ability whatsoever? Plenty of mages must have handled the wand between then and now.”

“Well, does the prophecy relate toyou?”

“It does.”