Page 102 of House of Embers
“I didn’tgivehim the ring,” she argued.
Zina waved her away. “My father was obsessed with the crown after my mother died.” She huffed a breath. “He followed every lead, every story, every scrap of information. He read it. He traveled. He dissolved into it.”
Kerrigan frowned. “Why?”
“To bring her back,” Zina whispered.
“Mei?” Kerrigan asked. She glanced at Fordham. “Is that possible?”
Zina shrugged. “He was convinced it had enough magic. At the time, I thought he was losing his mind. It wasn’t until you told me that my mother used her magic to put the barrier up around the House of Shadows that I realized it. It was why I traveled home. I went to him and asked if he had found it, if he could use it to reverse the spell that ended her life.”
“Oh,” Kerrigan whispered.
“He never found it,” Zina said. “He gave up his search long before I confronted him.”
“Oh,” Kerrigan repeated.
“Why did he think it could bring her back?” Fordham asked.
Zina shrugged. “There was a lot of lore around it at the time asa powerful artifact of the gods. And god magic can do unpredictable things.”
That was damn true.
“But there wasn’t enough information about the Doma or how to use it. We don’t have those resources.”
Kerrigan gradually came to sitting. A groan escaped her as Fordham hurried to help her up. Zina was so lost in her thoughts of the past that she didn’t even scold her for it.
“We need someone who knows more about the crown,” Kerrigan said.
“Who would know more than Trulian?” Zina asked.
Kerrigan met Fordham’s eyes. “Who would know more about Doma?”
Fordham’s face lit up in recognition. “Cleora.”
Zina glanced between them. “Who is Cleora?”
Chapter Thirty-Six
The Mentor
Zina took her hand as Kerrigan yanked them both onto the spirit plane. Zina glanced around at the cloud cover before it disappeared and they rematerialized onto a sandy beach overlooking an unfamiliar sea with unfamiliar mountains in the distance.
“You’ve gotten better at this,” Zina said.
“I had good teachers.”
Zina snorted as she changed her clothes from the bronze attire to a seaside blue, floral gown. A floppy hat landed on her head. She was barefoot in the sand and tilted her head up to the sun. “Sure could use a beach holiday.”
Kerrigan laughed. “You don’t seem like the beach type.”
“I could be,” Zina said. “Why didn’t your boy come too?”
“He’s not as strong in spirit,” Kerrigan said. “He’s a work in progress.”
“Bet he hates that.”
“Sure does.”
