Chapter 12
The lack of sleep scratches at the corners of my eyes as I wait for Casvian. Dawn comes and goes. The Ven’s courtyard grows fuller than I’ve ever seen it, and the air grows thick with anticipation.
I don’t like it. Memories of last night, of Pa’s name on strangers’ lips, make my skin buzz. If something has changed between Pa and Dalca, waiting around won’t help me.
On a hunch, I make for the room where Iz brought me my first time in the Ven. As I near the door, raised voices sound from within.
Tiptoeing closer, I press my ear to the door.
Casvian’s voice thrums with restraint. “I’m afraid I can’t help you.”
Another voice, deep and smooth as honey. “I do not pretend to understand why you would cast your lot in with the Illusoras, Casvian.” The second man stretches out every syllable of the name, until I get why Casvian might insist on being called Cas. “They have failed. Over and over again. Even their line is dying out.”
“Careful, Father. You’re awfully close to speaking treason.”
A chill runs down to my fingertips. On the other side of this door is Ragno Haveli, leader of the Regia’s Guard, who would have Pa face the Trials. Who had Amma’s house burned. According to Dalca, at least.
“I speak of a world with a knife to its throat. I speak of seizing our last chance of hope.”
“Dalca has hope.”
“I know of Alcanar’s work. I know you hope for some ikon to solve all our problems. Tell me, is that the wish of a child or of a man?”
Cas says nothing. I risk inching forward, straining to hear more about Pa.
Ragno sighs. “Renounce this childhood rebellion, Casvian. Enough with following the prince about like a favored lapdog, risking your life like any common Wardana.”
My mouth falls open.Any common Wardana, he says, as if the Wardana’s power is nothing. I can’t wrap my mind around it. Is this how second-ringers see the world?
“As always, Father, I decline. I look dreadful in black, you must understand.”
“Always playing a fool.” Ragno makes a sound of disgust. “Make your choice with care. Prince Dalca’s fate is written in his blood. You need not fall with him.”
“I wasn’t aware he was falling.”
“It may not be in your books, but it is written.”
The sound of a footstep sends me sprinting. I manage to get a half dozen paces down the hall before the door opens.
Ragno strides out, his eyes passing over me without note. His gray and white hair is tied back in a neat knot, leaving nothing to soften the cut of his cheekbones or the hardness of his jaw.
I wait for him to turn the corner before approaching the ajar door. I tap my knuckles on the wood with enough force to push the door further open.
Cas stands scowling at the floor. I’m surprised to see the flush reddening his cheeks. From the irritatingly polite voice he’d used, I’d never have suspected his father got to him. His eyes—ringed by dark circles—focus on my face, and he glowers. “You’re late.”
I fight the urge to point out that he was meant to meet me. “It seemed like there was someone in here. I thought it better to wait.”
He flicks his fingers dismissively. “Fine, whatever. Come in.”
The little reading room is in fantastic disarray. It’s dominated by three desks pushed together, each covered in masses of paper and parchment. Light floods in from a wall of windows, and a gentle breeze comes through glass doors that lead out onto a balcony. The breeze brings with it a swell of voices, of a crowd cheering from the direction of the Ven’s courtyard. This must be thefriendly scrimmageIz and Dalca mentioned.
“Sit.” He points to a small desk in the corner.
I move a bundle of scrolls off the chair and sit in front of a massive book. He leans over me, his pale hair slipping out of the band he’s tied. He draws a small mark, an ikon consisting of two concentric loops surrounded by what look like tree roots. “Look through this tome and tell me if you find this exact sign.”
Cas is researching a particular ikon. Surely this isn’t it—but what if it does have to do with Pa? “Just... find it?”
“Were you hoping for something else?”