I see why Tyree had lies readily available to feed Kienen. Lies that Kienen could stomach, because he knew the soldier wouldn’t stomach the truth of what the Ybarisan crown was tasking them to do.
I’m not asking him to keep going down that path. I’m asking him to help me fix what Ybaris has done. Do we really need to feed him more lies to get him to do that? Besides, it’s too late for that. He’s too smart; he’s seen too much. Eventually, he’ll decide that Ybaris’s ruling family no longer deserves his loyalty.
I wish I had more time to feel him out, but we don’t, and we can’t risk losing him or the Ybarisans. They might only be two hundred and fifty-four out of an entire nation, but they’re a start.
“Yes. And no.” Gesine’s counsel rings in my mind, but I can’t keep up this charade anymore. “What I am about to tell you, I haven’t openly admitted to anyone—”
“Romeria.” Fear floods Zander’s voice as he warns me off.
But I know in my heart what I have to do. “We can’t keep going around in circles, expecting people to trust us with their lives if we can’t trust them with the truth.”
He grits his teeth as I step forward to the head of the table, but he doesn’t argue. “Twenty-five years ago, Queen Neilina forced an elemental caster to summon Aoife and create a weapon against Islor. That weapon was an elven princess whose blood was toxic to Islorians and who the future king of Islor would not be able to resist.” I watch Kienen closely for any hint that he might have been lying before, that he might have known this. “The poison in those vials is not something the elementals made. It’s my blood.”
His brow furrows. “We heard rumors of this in recent weeks and dismissed them as lies spun to villainize Ybaris more. I have watched the queen execute lords for suggesting we summon the fates to help heal our lands. It didn’t seem possible that Her Highness would tempt the fates so recklessly.”
“Do you deny her hatred for us?” Zander asks. “Your lands are dying, and she is desperate, but she would rather seek war and untold consequences than an alliance.”
Kienen studies the map intently. I can’t get a read on where his head is at.
“The daaknar who tried to feed off me learned about my blood the hard way.” I yank the collar of my tunic down. “I don’t recommend meeting one of those things. They’re not friendly.”
His lips twitch with the hint of a smile. “And yet you survived.”
“Thanks to a healer.”
“The same who foiled this plan of Queen Neilina’s.”
“Wendeline. Yes. She and Margrethe were working with Gesine, Ianca, and a small faction of Mordain.” I hope she’s still alive.
“Against Ybaris?”
“Not so much against Ybaris as for prophecy.”
“What does all this have to do with you and your memory loss?” Telor interrupts impatiently.
“Watch your tone. You are speaking to a queen, one who saved your life,” Jarek warns, his hand shifting to his dagger.
I wave him off. “It’s okay. It’s a fair question, and I’ll get to it.” I smile. “The queen also enlisted the saplings to gather as much information as they could on Islor. By the time Princess Romeria crossed the rift, they knew everything there was to know about the royal family’s allies and enemies, Islor’s weakest spots, the best ways to attack. Radomir can vouch for that.”
Telor glares at the sapling. “Why would your kind agree to help Ybaris?”
“Because Queen Neilina promised that Mordain would help lift this curse that plagues us, keeping us in the dark,” Radomir says matter-of-factly. “And we believed her.”
“Princess Romeria came to Cirilea with plans to kill the entire royal family on Hudem, poison as many Islorians as she could, and bring the Ybarisan armies across the rift to take Islor’s lands. But Ybaris’s plans backfired on Hudem, thanks to the casters, and Princess Romeria was shot by a merth bolt. She died that night.”
“And yet she stands before us now.” Kienen’s eyes flitter over me before dropping, almost as if in apology.
“That’s because Gesine and the others believed Princess Romeria needed to live for prophecy to be fulfilled. So, Margrethe summoned Malachi and resurrected Princess Romeria. Hence, the daaknar.” If nothing else, that demon serves as proof. “Only, instead of her, they got me.”
“And who are you?” Telor asks, his brow furrowed.