Page 90 of The Demon Tide

“The Mages don’t...” I pause, struggling with this concept. “They don’t allow anyone but Gardnerians into the faith.”

Sholindrile’s look of serene calm remains unbroken. “Most faiths, when read so rigidly, have many uncrossable lines.” His dark eyes take on a knowing light. “I do not read the faiths of Erthia so rigidly. This faith is important to Fain, so it is important to me.” Fain and Sholindrile exchange a quick look of affection.

“I’m studying the wandfasting spell with Sagellyn,” Fain tells me. “If Sage and I manage to master the spell, Sho and I are to be fasted.” Fain’s eyes flash with a spark of hard, intractable rebellion.“Publicly.”

There’s something so explosively seditious in Fain’s expression it sparks an elated rejoicing inside of me over their sheer audacity. And I feel chastened for judging their choice of faith, difficult as it is for me to wrap my mind around. Because, truly, this is a private thing.

“What do you think, toiya?” Fain asks me with a cheeky grin. “Should we invite Marcus Vogel to our fasting and Sealing ceremonies?”

The door opens before I can respond, and Trystan strides into the room, relief lifting my heart. I move to greet him, but he gestures for me to remain seated.

“Where’s Vothe?” I ask.

“Outside,” Trystan answers. “Keeping watch.”

“Do the Vu Trin suspect anything?” Lucretia presses.

Trystan shakes his head as his eyes lock on to mine. “I sent word to Kam Vin about Vogel’s new powers via Jules Kristian, and he’ll also relay your message about Valasca to Ni Vin. And I arranged help for the refugees you came here with. Bleddyn Arterra is getting them through the border and to Jules Kristian. Tonight.”

Surprise bursts into being.“Bleddyn Arterra?”A memory of tall, muscular Bleddyn’s green-hued face scowling at me fills my mind—Bleddyn, who hated me for so long in the Verpax University kitchens, our relationship wary at best.

Trystan’s eyes glint. “She’s joined the Vu Trin border guard. And the Eastern Realm arm of the Resistance.”

“I didn’t expect there to be a need for the Resistance here,” I gravely note, looking to Fain and Lucretia.

Fain and his sister share a jaded look—the same look I’ve seen on Lucretia’s and Jules’s faces many times when facing down ugly truths in the West. “The Resistance network was in place from the Realm War,” Fain says with a sigh. “When we smuggled Fae and others here. And now, with borders locking down and so much of the West desperately needing to get East...we’ve simply expanded our focus.”

I consider how active Bleddyn was in the Western Realm, helping Urisk and Smaragdalfar refugees escape east. “The people I came here with...” I say, tense with worry, “their illness is advanced. They’ll need medicine.”

Wrenfir winces. “I’ll get them Norfure tincture,” he assures me, seated now with one cat in his lap, another curled around his dark-clad shoulders.

I study him, surprised by his offer. “Are you a border guard, as well?”

He shoots me a cool look. “I’m not much of ajoiner. I work on my own. As an apothecary.” He mentions this a tad confrontationally, and I’ve a sense that this is a loaded topic of conversation for him. “I’ve a stash of Norfure,” he adds, softening a bit as the cat wrapped around his shoulders begins to purr and he idly strokes it. “Made from ingredients...” his eyes flick slyly toward Or’myr “...that I’ve ‘borrowed.’”

Or’myr gives a short laugh at this, and gratitude swells inside me over the possibility of Tibryl and Emberlyyn getting hold of life-saving medicine. I nod at my spidery uncle, overtaken by the rush of bone-deep appreciation. “Wren, thank you. They’rereallysick.”

What looks like pained understanding flashes through his eyes.

“Jules is sending word to everyone who can help unbind Elloren’s magic and keep her safe,” Trystan informs us all. “He’s going to secure a location where we can gather tomorrow eve.” He looks to Fain and Sholindrile. “Other Vu Trin saw me pull an ‘Elfhollen woman’ aboard my skiff. That might trigger some investigation. So Bleddyn’s going to come for her before dawn.” He turns to me once more. “You’re likely safe here for the evening, Ren, but tomorrow you’ll need to blend into Voloi.”

CHAPTER EIGHT

DAUGHTEROFTHERESISTANCE

Elloren Grey

Noilaan

Eastern Realm

Two days prior to Xishlon

“What happened to my parents?” I ask Fain. A plate of half-consumed black bread slathered in a tangy plum paste and thin slices of smoked Vo River eel sits on the dining room table before me, my hunger assuaged by the unfamiliar food but my emotions a tumult.

Fain exhales and regards me levelly as he reclines in his chair and swirls a glass of turquoise wine, his arm draped around Sholindrile’s broad shoulders. “Toward the end of the Realm War,” he says, the liquid in his glass stilling as he sets it gently down, “your parents were increasingly active in the Resistance. Both your father and mother were aiding the Urisk and the Fae and later the Smaragdalfar Elves in their efforts to escape East.”

“Uncle Edwin was involved in the Resistance too, Ren,” Trystan softly adds, concern in his kohl-rimmed eyes. I know he understands just how mind-bendingly disorienting all this new information is. So many things we believed our whole lives turned upside down.

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