“I imagine they rode hard to get here and are now perplexed by what they see.” A tiny smile curls Zander’s lips. He always likes having the advantage.
But how can he care about that? How can he care about anything else right now? I did the one thing I swore I wouldn’t do.
I’ve opened the nymphaeum door.
Over and over, that reality has slammed into me since we left Lucretia’s crypt, and each time, a wave of panic follows. Is it true? Have I given Malachi and Sofie what they wanted? Are so many more people going to die because of me? Not Princess Romeria … I can’t blame her for this one.
I swallow against these thoughts. A queen can’t crumble, not here in front of everyone. Maybe tonight, behind the safety of my bedroom door, I can let the full weight of this crush me. If there is even time to sleep. “How long do we have?” My voice sounds hollow.
Zander looks up at the waning sun. “If I know Telor, he will approach tonight, with an ultimatum to surrender by morning. Where it leads from there, I cannot say. We may be in battle at dawn.”
I’ve already seen my share of death since I arrived in Islor, and the last thing I want is to witness war, let alone be a part of one.
“My men will return as soon as the sun drops past the horizon,” Radomir calls out from within the depths of the tunnel. “What should I expect when I cross that threshold to see them?”
“The first time the blood curse takes hold of us, it is overwhelming,” Zander warns. “I assume it will be the same for you. When it is time, we will have our caster provide some aid to you, in case your transition is more difficult than expected and you turn on us. You may speak to your men then, share the news of our alliance.”
“And send them to fetch my legionary,” Abarrane demands. “I want him back before daybreak.”
God … Abarrane. What will she do when she finds out what I’ve done?
Radomir nods, his hand smoothing over his cheek, as if trying to memorize this face before it’s taken from him again.
Zander peers at the sealed letter in his hand, at the black wax seal, the silver flecking it like stars in a night sky. We argued for an hour about how much to tell Atticus before we put ink to paper. “I fear we are putting too much faith in my brother to do the right thing.”
“If he doesn’t, that’s on him.”
“If he doesn’t, we will all pay the price. Gesine!” Zander bellows, making me jump.
“Right here, Your Highness,” she calls out calmly from behind him.
Zander’s gaze hardens on her. After this, I don’t know that he’ll ever see her as anything but traitorous Mordain. I’m beginning to understand why. “The taillok?”
“I have respelled it. It will carry your message to Cirilea.” She gestures to a sizable cage draped in oilcloth nearby, nodding toward Kienen.
He draws the cover off.
Murmured voices rise among the legionaries as they appraise it.
“This thing has delivered messages to Cirilea?” Jarek peers at it with amazement.
“A handful of times, especially closer to the wedding,” Zander says.
“How did I miss that in flight?”
“It is far stealthier than its size would portray,” Kienen confirms.
The taillok stands three feet tall, with two spindly legs capped by clawed feet. Hawkish black eyes lined with humanlike eyelashes and surrounded by a vibrant orange mask watch us as if cataloging our every twitch. Its feathers are an iridescent white, save for a dozen wispy gold ones standing on end around its head, shaped to look like a crown.
“You said this came from the Nulling?” Doubt steeps in my voice. “But it’s … beautiful.”
It answers with a piercing screech that makes us all wince.
Gesine smiles. “Not all creatures that come through the Nulling are as terrifying as the grif. Some, you would never suspect.”
Like Sofie’s husband, I suppose, if he ever makes it through.
This messenger bird may be stunning but no doubt it’s deadly if it wants to be. That hooked beak looks like it could tear chunks of flesh from my body with little effort.
Zander hands her the letter. “How long will this take to arrive?”
“It should be there by the morning. The caster who spells the bird shares its line of sight, so I will see when it lands in Cirilea’s hands.”
“You mean, you can see what it sees right now?”
Gesine dips her head once in answer. “All the time, Your Highness.”
A worrying thought strikes me. I turn to Kienen. “Was that cloth over it this entire time?”