Page 35 of Grave Situation

Master shrugs. “The stone will guide you,” he repeats. “It may be that you need to visit every court on the continent and a whole lot of aristocratic estates as well.”

“Or none of the above.”

He winces.

“Noooooo. No. Fuck, no. What did the stone say?” I glare at it. Dammit, part of the benefit of being a mage was that I’d never have to go back to court again. Ihatepolitics. And fuck knows, I was never popular with other aristocratic families—I had even less patience as an adolescent than I do now, and my insults may have flowed a little too freely.

“It wasn’t so much the stone,” Master admits. “We passed the news to the court mages, and Master Haftel has requested that you visit and speak to the king on your way through.”

Haftel—she’s in Lenle. It’s the closest country, and if we stick to the highway—which I’m very much hoping we will—we’ll reach the capital, Lenledia, within a week or so.

“The stone might direct us elsewhere,” I say hopefully. A visit to court, and not even a court I’m familiar with, isn’t high on my fun-to-do list.

He spreads his hands. “If it does, it does. But if youdoend up in Lenledia, or even in the near vicinity, the councils agreed that you’d pay a visit to the king.”

I groan. “What am I even supposed to say to him? Will he know why I’m there?”

Master nods. “Once the announcement’s been made tomorrow, the court mages have been instructed to advise the rulers of the situation. It will be kept in strictest confidence—nobody wants widespread panic. But we’ll likely need them to quietly begin making preparations.”

“For what?” I ask bitterly. “The unTalented can’t fight zombies. The stone said so.” Surely he can’t mean to send soldiers on suicide missions?

“No, but they can set up and man supply dumps and camps for our people. They can evacuate communities that may be endangered. And they can ensure that the looting and other crimes that always occur during war are quashed. Once war breaks out, it won’t just be zombies we need to worry about, Talon. The criminal element thrives on unrest, and confused, frightened innocents can cause more trouble without meaning to than you’d think.”

That’s a steaming pile of gods’ turds I hadn’t considered. “Shit.”

He nods. “Exactly. But none of that is your concern. If the opportunity arises, visit the king, show him the stone, and assure him everything is under control. There may be other requests for you to visit courts, but don’t worry about them fornow. Your focus needs to be on finding the champion… a task for which you’re uniquely suited.”

I sigh. “If you say so. I still maintain that there must be someone else who’s a strong telepath and good with people.” Though even admitting I’m that last one makes me want to vomit.

“Not really, but that brings me to the third reason it could only have been you.”

“I’m waiting with bated breath.”

Shaking his head, he says, “There are times when I wish that were true and I could leave you waiting forever.”

Well, that’s not very nice.

“The third reason is Tia.”

I frown. “Tia? Master, I’m not sure if this has escaped you, but she and I are two people. And while I agree that it would have been very difficult for us to be apart for so long, there are other dragon riders who could…” I trail off. The look he’s giving me now is his “don’t fucking test me” one.

“There is nobody else with whom you have such a unique bond.” He’s being vague, but I instantly realize what he means. Our mind-to-mind connection—the way I’m always partly in Tia’s head, and she’s in mine. The bond we never spoke of to anyone because we knew, even as children, that it had to be secret.

There’s no record of anyone else in the world being connected like we are. I checked. And when something inside me suggested I could trust Master with this, he checked, too, in archives I don’t have access to. Then he told us both to never speak of it to anyone, not ever.

What Jaimin said earlier about feeling as though his entire existence was fated for this event comes back to me. Could that mean…?

“Master… do you think we’re the way we are because we were born to be tools of prophecy?”

He says nothing, but I see the answer in his eyes, and bile rises in my throat.

“I am my own man,” I rasp. “Not anyone’s pawn. Neither is Tia.”

“We’re all pawns of the gods,” he chides. “I know you think little of religion—and rightly so, given the current state of the priesthood—but you still believe in the gods.”

I grimace.

“This doesn’t make you any less yourself, Talon. Fate and prophecy are funny things. They plant the seeds, but free will is real. You made the choices you did of your own accord, and it made you the person fate needs. If you’d chosen differently…” He shrugs. “There would have been another. But I, for one, am glad it’s you.”

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