Page 153 of Grave Situation

“Where did you go?”

“To the stables. Oh—I’m Wasianth, by the way.”

His hand stills. “You remember?”

“No.” I explain my strange encounter of the equine variety, and his whole face lights up.

“I knew she was a special horse.”

Special. Sure.

CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

“Wait… I… What?”Arimen blinks at us in bewilderment. It’s after dinner and we’re crammed into the room Jaimin and I share. Arimen’s been processing the news the stone revealed to us for the past ten minutes.

“I’m sorry,” I tell him. “I know this is a big shock. For me too.”

“It’s kind of a relief,” Coryn says placidly. “Now at least we know where to go. And we like you. I was worried that we’d find the champion and they wouldn’t be a very nice person.” He turns to Peiris. “Some people with lots of power are mean.”

“Oh, I know.” Peiris nods vehemently. “Very mean.”

Since the whole day has been one upheaval after the next, I decide to add another one to the list. It will give Arimen time to finish spluttering, anyway. “Peiris, is there something you’d like to tell us?”

They freeze. “Uh…”

“Perhaps about your family,” I suggest. I might be wrong with that guess, but there’s definitelysomething.

Peiris glances away, then smiles weakly. “How did you know?” They check. “I forgot—you’re a god. But you said you don’t have your powers?”

“I don’t.” I shrug. “This has nothing to do with that. I’m a teacher, and my students often try to keep secrets.” Usually that they’ve been experimenting with things they shouldn’t be. “It’s made me good at reading people.” Sometimes.

They sigh. “It’s not a secret—I was just enjoying the anonymity. People are often different when they know the truth.”

Oh, I’m so going to regret having asked, aren’t I? I slide a sideways glance at Jaimin, wordlessly begging for help, but it’s too late.

“I’m the fifth child of the Imperial Pair.”

Yep. Regret, meet me. Visions rise of what will happen to me if I somehow manage to get a child of the Imperial Pair killed. “Oh. That’s… fine.”

Jaimin’s elbow connects with my ribs. “What he means is, that’s not important to us, Peiris. You’ve been selected by prophecy and fate to be here, and that’s all that matters. You’re the right person for this job, regardless of who your parents are.”

I nod. “Yes. That. What he said.” And also, do they want to stay here in this nice, out-of-the-way inn? Where they’re unlikely to encounter zombies and die, spurring an intercontinental war?

Peiris’s smile is much more genuine now. “Thank you.”

Half raising his hand, Coryn says, “I don’t understand. The imperial pair of what?”

At the same time, Arimen asks, “If Talon is Wasianth, does that mean I should be telling my prayers directly to him?”

For a long moment, I look at them both. Their faces are earnest—neither is joking. “I might need another tankard of ale,” I tell Jaimin, and he wordlessly rises to get it. Lucky him, getting to leave. I turn to Arimen first. “Do not tell me your prayers. Whatever you’ve been doing your whole life, keep doing. If thatchanges, I’ll let you know.” It’s not going to change. Not unless my personality does.

Next, I brace myself and tackle Coryn’s question. Peiris is biting their lip, apprehension back, and I need to fix that if our team is going to be able to work together. “You know how Peiris is from the Baswich Empire?” I begin, and he nods.

“Yes! It’s all the way across the ocean.” He squints. “Does the sun rise on the other side of the world there? Because I have this theory?—”

“No,” I interrupt. I’ve heard that theory, and I’m not arguing with him about it. “The sun rises in the east in the Baswich Empire.”

“Oh.”

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