Page 73 of A Dawn of Gods & Fury

Mild amusement skims her expression. “Who says I won’t?”

“Because you believe you could still be of use to your beloved king.” When Malachi ordered the guards to release her, I expected her to run from these city walls before the sun set. But she skulked to the sanctum and here she has remained. It’s the only answer that makes sense.

I could have the guards imprison her to avoid an unseemly end at her own hands, but I imagine she’ll be of little use to me then. She is a valuable source of information and a connection to Romeria, even if I can’t trust her.

I ease back into the pew. “I’ve always thought it silly that we have all this power to heal others and yet cannot help ourselves. Give me your hand.”

She hesitates but finally relents.

I unwind the gauze, revealing the angry red stump where her smallest finger used to be. “I imagine you weren’t privy to much in the way of poultices and clean water during your time in the dungeon.”

“I made do.”

“Still, it is difficult to reverse the damage done.” The hint of rot lingers. “Your guild is a great distance from here, is it not?”

“I would not call them ‘my guild.’ They have long since labeled me foe. But yes, Mordain is leagues away, across another realm and a channel.”

“You work against them, and yet you could not have masterminded this grand plan on your own. I have only just arrived and already I have heard the stories of murderous complicit casters and a tainted princess created by Aoife herself who won the heart of a king, only to betray a realm.”

It’s a moment before she relents. “Yes, I had much help, from those who value prophecy and a higher purpose than power and wealth.”

“I did not know such beings existed.” I draw forth a weave of healing, directing it into Wendeline’s injury. It’s mere moments before she sinks against the pew, some of the tension dissipating from her limbs as the flesh knits together smoothly, the redness fading to a faint silver. I release her hand. “There, you could have earned that injury years ago by the looks of it.”

“That would have taken me an hour to mend on someone else,” she admits, smoothing the pad of her thumb over the stump. “Thank you for the kindness,” she offers after a delay. “You do not have marks.”

“Hmm?” Her question catches me off guard.

She slides her sleeve up to reveal a small glowing emblem of gilded horns. “To indicate your affinities. You do not wear any from what I can see.”

I turn my wrist to confirm my bare forearm. “No. In my old world, casters hide who they are. It is safer for them that way.”

“You must greatly prefer this new one. Not only a key caster revered but also a queen.”

“It has its benefits.” And I have little time to waste. “What do you know of my purpose here?”

“Besides aiding the Fate of Fire in raining havoc?”

“Do not accuse me of things you are equally culpable in.” My voice turns sharp and carries too far, earning looks from several sanctum patrons. A swift glare from me has them ducking their heads.

With one last glance at her deformed hand, Wendeline gathers the used bandaging as she collects her thoughts. “I know that Malachi sent your husband to the Nulling. I can speculate that it is because you summoned him to preserve your fleeting life in hopes of matching your husband’s lengthy one. It seems he granted your request, but at a very steep cost.”

“I suppose that wouldn’t be too hard to piece together.” Still, some praise should be granted to Wendeline—and perhaps Romeria, for managing it. “What else?”

“You waited a long time to reconnect with your husband. I am not sure you expected this result.”

“That my beloved Elijah would be trapped, sharing a body with Malachi himself, you mean?” A hint of bitterness laces my tone.

Wendeline’s gaze travels upward tentatively, as if afraid I might turn her to stone with a single glance. “This must be difficult for you.”

My responding laugh is mirthless. “Do not play sympathetic to me. I know where your allegiances lie.” With a heavy sigh, I ask, “What does your guild know of fates who walk this plane in flesh and blood?”

“I am not the right person to ask, truly. I never spent much time with the scribes and had little familiarity with prophecy before I was contacted by someone far more skilled and knowledgeable of it. If there is any insight, she will be the one who can provide it.”

“Her name?”

“Gesine. She was with Romeria, the last I heard.”

“Do you have any way to reach her?”

---