Wendeline shakes her head. “She and Ianca escaped Neilina with the help of casters.”
“Gesine and Ianca. There are two casters with them?” Fucking Tyree.
“One caster and one seer, by the time they arrived in Cirilea. I do not know what became of the seer.”
“And they are working with Mordain?”
“No. Not as a whole, anyway. The guild does not even know Neilina summoned the fates for her daughter. At least, they didn’t. I do not know what truths have reached them now.”
“Not enough, seeing as they have joined forces with Ybaris to march south. That or they do not care, so long as Islor suffers.”
“Mordain is bound to Ybaris by need, not by loyalty. It has always been the way. It will continue to be the way as long as Neilina sits on that throne.”
Interesting. But not important now. “What does it mean that this secret city is tied to the nymphs?”
“I do not know.”
“But you fear it.”
“I fear much these days, Your Highness.” She trembles. Maybe from the cold, but Wendeline always did seem on edge. “Has the poison truly reached Cirilea so abundantly?”
“The corpses of mortals I’ve had to punish would suggest so, yes. How does it feel to know you had a hand in so many deaths?”
She flinches. “I did not see another way.”
“And sacrificing the lives of your fellow sisters in the sanctum?”
“I told Boaz they were innocent—”
“They’re all dead. The sanctum sits empty now.” A decision I abhorred, but one I had to make all the same. Perhaps that also fuels my anger toward this caster.
A tear rolls down her cheek. “They had no part in this,” she whispers.
“You left me no choice.” I nod toward the letter. “But perhaps you see a new choice in front of you. One that will offer some shred of redemption for all your treachery.”
Wendeline’s focus shifts to the bottom of the page. “Will you spare them? The tainted mortals?”
“Why? Because Romeria has asked it of me? Zander acquiesced to her requests and look where that got him.” I will not make his same mistakes. But I will also not be too big a fool not to use this caster to my benefit. “Can you mark the mortals in the way she suggested?”
“It should not cause me difficulty.”
“Then it seems keeping you alive might serve a purpose after all.”
She looks up and in her eyes is a tiny spark of hope. “Yes, I would be happy to. Thank you for allowing me the opportunity to serve Islor again.”
I push aside any twinge of regret for what she must have gone through under Boaz’s blade. She truly believes her actions were necessary. “In exchange for that service, I will have you moved somewhere more comfortable. But you will not move freely.”
“I would never expect that much leniency, Your Highness.”
“Good. And listen to me very carefully, Wendeline …” I move in, crouching to her level. “If you do not mark every single mortal accordingly, if you do anything that suggests betrayal, it will be the mortals who accept punishment on your behalf. Any mortal. I will make you watch, and you will beg for your own death by the time we are finished.” My easy smile clashes with my promise. I will not make the same mistake as my brother did.
Her throat bobs with a hard swallow as she passes the letter back, her hand trembling. “I have never wished you or your family harm.”
“And yet your actions have told an entirely different story.” I move away, turning to leave.
“She is not Princess Romeria.”
I falter. “Who is she, then?”
“A pawn, as we all have become. But she is someone who does not wish to see Islor fall, and who loves your brother dearly.”
“Neither of those things matter.” I move swiftly from her cell. “Take her to the east wing. Have the servants clean her up. Do not leave her unguarded for even a second.”
“Your Highness.”
A single cough sounds, somewhere in the depths of this misery. “How many prisoners do we currently hold?”
“A dozen.”
“Have them loaded into a wagon and readied for travel to front lines where they may be of more use.” We will need these cells soon.
“And the tainted tributary? Should I send her to the block?”
Yes. I know that’s the right order, the only one that should suffice. But Gracen’s request fills my thoughts. Between that and Romeria’s claims—however wild they may be—I cannot utter it. “Bring me to her cell.”