“I still don’t understand the cat,” Dario says.
“And I don’t understand why you are still with us,” Caedia tells him, handing him a length of waxed canvas. “We don’t need you.”
“I think I should lie low after the stunt with the casks and corpses.” Dario shrugs a shoulder. “Seems like going back to Nyzbern right now would be imprudent.”
They told me about how the corpses barreled from the wine casks (heh), doing exactly what I wanted and providing the perfect diversion.
Sure, it didn’t all go to plan, considering the massive bump on my head and the fact I feel like complete shit.
My fingers go to the ring in my pocket, the real Crown of Sola a boring piece of metal in the shape of an old-fashioned crown, with one ugly black stone set in the middle.
“I’m still disappointed that he just let us walk away,” I say. “I really worked hard to make him think we were after the circlet. It should fetch a good price, though.”
“He didn’t just let us walk away,” Dario huffs, but falls silent at a long look from Morrow.
I get the feeling they’re not telling me something.
“What am I missing?” I make myself ask.
“Other than regard for the law or your personal safety?” Morrow asks. “Nothing, really. It went off better than we planned, except you getting hurt.”
I want to smile, but moving my face makes my head hurt, so I lean up against the direcat’s deliciously warm fur and focus on breathing.
Lara turns from where she’s building a fire.
Her eyes glow purple.
“Sola sends her regards.”
“Fuck,” Dario says, staring at her. “That is uncanny.”
“Right?” I agree, annoyed. “Nakush, Lara, whoever’s in there, can you be more specific?”
“What kind of regards?” Caedia asks.
The Sword stares at me, terror in his eyes.
Lara wilts, toppling forward, but Morrow is there to catch her before she lands face-first in the ice-dappled ground.
The Sword is moving, faster than I’ve ever seen, removing the stakes he just plunked into the ground.
“What is going on?” Gods, I am so tired.
“The Sisters of Sola,” Lara chokes out, the purple still glittering in her eyes. “They are coming for you, Kyrie. They know you have it. They will end you.”
“Them?” What the hells do they want with me now? “Haven’t I spent enough time with them?”
My stomach hollows out, and for a moment, I want to throw up.
They will end me. End me. All the good I want to do, all the victims of Sola’s tender fury who I want to help—all of it, wiped out.
“Them,” the Sword agrees. “They will kill you all.”
You all. I tilt my head, trying to make sense of that. Well, I suppose an immortal Fae isn’t concerned about the Sisters of fucking Sola.
“We need to split up.”
Everyone stares at me. I pat Fil and he nudges my hand, asking for more.