Page 96 of A Dawn of Gods & Fury

“I followed Her Highness through the wormhole.”

“It’s not a—never mind.” I shake my head.

“Why do they create such fine pieces, only to hide them in a cellar?”

“The same reason you hide fates’ tokens. Because they’re valuable. Why are you here?”

She abandons her interest in the jewelry. “I serve my master.”

“You were serving me by helping in that library. The scribes need you.”

“I have delivered a vast selection of tomes they may find value in. There is more than enough to keep them occupied. Now I must serve my new master.” She bows. “I am of use here.”

“How?”

“In various ways.”

I sigh heavily. I don’t have time to peel through layers of Lucretia’s ambiguity. I also can’t waste time shuttling this conniving sylx back to Ulysede’s library. Zander and the others will reach the port soon. Besides, knowing her, she’ll vanish and follow me back to Argon, anyway. “Fine.” I move for the door. “But keep this form.”

“It is the one I favor.”

“And no more vanishing.” I raise a finger in warning. “And do not antagonize Jarek.”

“I enjoy our friendly banter, though.” She smiles wistfully.

That’s what she calls friendly banter? He genuinely wants to kill her. “Stay out of his head. And his dreams.” I know they have something to do with me.

Her pretty face furrows with confusion. “But those are a reward to your most valued advisor. I give him that which he desires most but cannot have.”

“That’s not … what he wants.” I stumble over the denial. I hope that is not what Jarek wants, but deep down, I fear there may be truth to her words. Regardless, I wish only happiness for him. As much happiness as I have with Zander. “Do not mess with his head anymore or I will relegate you back to your crypt like your last masters did.” I have no idea how to do that, but my threat seems to have the desired effect.

Lucretia sulks as I channel Aminadav into the lock, picking it from the inside. It opens with a jarring sound.

The lanky guard on the other side jumps back, a dazed look on his face. “Your Highness!” he exclaims. “But … how did—”

“Long story. A group is arriving from Mordain with wounded casters who need tending. Take me to the port.”

“Yes, Your Highness.” He quickly falls back into obedient stiff-guard mode, leading us out.

“How many there are?” I squint into the darkness. “I can’t tell.”

“It is difficult, Your Highness. Especially with Shadows on board,” says the guard closest to me, seemingly in charge. I heard someone call him Yardley. “It moves quickly, though. By the grace of Vin’nyla, I would imagine.”

I huddle in my jacket, the cool night wind creating whips out of my braids. When I insisted on meeting the boat at the docks, Yardley barked orders and suddenly, twenty-five guards were marching down the path with me, the sound of their metal armor daunting.

“I count twelve standing and two wrapped in blankets, lying on the floor, Your Highness,” Lucretia purrs. Her unusual eyes have earned countless wary looks from guards and servants alike as we marched through Argon, but I’m sure the sylx enjoys the attention. “Seven Shadows and five others.”

One must be the Master Healer. Who are the others?

Lanterns mark the slip for the boat as it slides into position, dockhands rushing for ropes to tie it in place.

“Stay here!” I order, my impatience winning out. I take off running, my feet scattering loose pebbles.

A Shadow leaps out onto the dock and collides with me where wood meets rock. I know it’s Zander even before he yanks off his mask and kisses me.

“That wait was agonizing. My mind conjured a dozen terrible scenarios,” he whispers.

“I was ready to drown His Highness in the channel to put him out of his misery,” Abarrane confirms.

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