Page 154 of Grave Situation

“Anyway, there are always two rulers in the empire. Peiris, correct me if I get this wrong. They don’t have to be married, but if they’re not, they usually have some kind of blood tie—siblings or cousins.”

Peiris nods.

“Great. So, the rulers are known as the Imperial Pair, and they’re the ultimate authority?—”

“Like my king?”

If I remember my second-year classes correctly, the empire actually has a parliament of sorts that governs day-to-day matters, but I’m not going to explain all of that to Coryn right now. “Something like that. The current Pair is a married couple, and Peiris is their child.”

Coryn blinks, then turns big brown eyes to Peiris. “Ohhhh, so you’re a princeps? I didn’t know. Is that why you’re so pretty?”

A tide of pink washes up Peiris’s face. “Yes. Um. No. I mean… What?”

“It’s okay,” Coryn assures them. “I’m not trying to have sex with you or anything. I don’t really like sex. But I think we should be able to tell our friends when we think they’re pretty.Everyone likes to hear nice things, right? I also think you have excellent sword skills, and I hope you’ll spar with me.”

He seems to have this under control, so I accept my fresh drink from Jaimin and sit back to watch. I deserve this—my whole life is being turned upside-down.

“I’ll spar with you,” Peiris says faintly. “Um. I think you have the most beautiful hair I’ve ever seen. Your hair and your heart are like sunshine. And… um. I don’t like sex either.”

“Do you like hugs?” Coryn asks hopefully, and Peiris nods.

“Yes. I like hugs from my friends.”

Coryn’s beaming smile makes me think all might be right in the world after all. “That’s good! Because we’re friends now, aren’t we? So we can give each other hugs and compliments.” He screws up his face. “Unless I’m not supposed to because you’re a princeps. I know the rules are different for royalty sometimes.”

“You’re supposed to because I said so,” Peiris insists, showing some of their royal upbringing, and the two of them grin at each other.

“I still don’t understand how Talon can be Wasianth if he isn’t Wasianth,” Arimen says plaintively, and I chug from my tankard as Jaimin patiently explains it all again. Arimen doesn’t look more convinced when he’s done, but he seems to accept it.

“So… what happens now?”

Jaimin shoots me a sympathetic glance. He’s heard me—and Tia—talk enough about our parents to know I’m not excited about this next step. “We’ll set sail as soon as possible for Talon’s family home in Rebithia. That’s the birthplace mentioned in the Baswich prophecies. Along the way, we’ll keep searching for any information that will help us reconnect Talon with his awareness as Wasianth.”

“What happens if we get to Rebithia before we find what we need?” Arimen wants to know.

I blow out a breath. “We wait. Hopefully just being back where I was born will jog some element of awareness, now that I know who—what—I am.” The truth is, we have no idea what we’re doing or how to do it. “My master has already begun that research, and Leicht is asking the dragons if they know anything.” He doesn’t think they do, but we’re not willing to leave any avenue unexplored. Which reminds me… “Peiris and Arimen, I need you to consider what you know about the godsborn and Wasianth and write down anything that might be helpful.”

Arimen’s face lights up. “I can do that! Do you think the innkeeper has paper?”

Jaimin silently passes over the blank journal the innkeeper gave us earlier, along with a charcoal pencil. Arimen holds them to his chest as though they’re more valuable than the finest riches.

“I have paper of my own,” Peiris volunteers, eying Arimen with an indulgent smile. “I don’t know if you can read Baswegian, but I also have copies of the relevant section of the prophecies, if you’d like those.”

“Yes,” Jaimin and I say at the same time. Not that I read Baswegian or anything.

“Please,” Jaimin adds. “My Baswegian isn’t wonderful, but I’d still like to see them. Perhaps our perspective will reveal something relevant to Talon.”

They nod. “That’s what I was thinking. I can help with any words that cause problems. After all, I don’t know him as well as you do.” They pause. “My knowledge of geography in this part of the world isn’t very good, but I believe Rebithia is some distance from here?”

“Faster by sea than overland, even with having to sail downriver in the opposite direction first,” I say. “But yeah, it’s not close. It will take us at least three weeks to get there—probably four.” At least by then, it will be spring even that far north.

“In that case, when we get to the river mouth, we may want to consider buying a larger ship. The horses won’t be comfortable on the deck for that long, and our space for provisions is limited. The time we lose in searching for something will more than be made up with the need for fewer stops.”

Jaimin shakes his head before I have the chance to eagerly agree. “I’m not sure. Aside from the need to fund that kind of purchase, a bigger ship means a crew. The ‘solution’ becomes very complicated at that point. We might be able to buy passage aboard a ship heading in that direction, though.”

I can tell Peiris doesn’t like the idea, which fits with the whole royalty scenario. Personally, I’m not fond of the thought of strangers in my space while we’re on this mission, so I don’t like either scenario. “Let’s wait until we get to a seaport,” I prevaricate. “Maybe another idea will come to us before then.”

“Talon,” Arimen says suddenly, “is Sweetie really Frestin?”

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