Her eyes flicker to me for only a second. “Yes, like that. Which we must assume Malachi would not appreciate, for you are his creation and seeing you weakened by one of Aoife’s creations would anger him.” Wendeline frowns. “It is curious, though, that he would answer a summons from Margrethe to bring that same weapon back to life.”
“Why would he?”
“He must have another use for her.”
I sit and quietly listen to them discuss me as if I’m not here. It’s a snapshot of what they must have done for weeks while I was locked up and they were deciding my fate.
“There is always a reason. The fates do nothing without a reason.” She turns to me, softness in her eyes. “Though Malachi didn’t give us back the same Ybarisan princess. He gave us this version instead, and I do not believe she means you any harm.”
“But she is still quite capable of it,” Zander says quietly, studying his hands.
“Don’t bite me, and you’ll all be fine,” I retort.
He releases a husky laugh. “I suppose I have the daaknar to thank for that never happening.”
Wendeline hesitates, her eyes darting between the two of us. “Aoife was obviously planning on using this union for her own gain, but Malachi must have his motives for wanting a union between you as well.”
My heart pounds in my chest. You’re getting warmer. If I’m right, a literal union of body parts, lying on a stone slab beneath the blood moon, is exactly what Malachi is aiming for.
Worry fills her face. “But if Aoife and Malachi are scheming against each other in any way, we have reason to worry, and if Neilina keeps summoning Aoife in her campaign against Islor, I fear what might happen.”
Zander folds his hands. “What do you recommend?”
“You could inform her of the truth about her daughter, so she is aware of the risk of more summoning.”
“What else do you recommend besides feeding my zealous enemy sensitive information that she could somehow use against me?” he counters.
Wendeline’s lips purse as she considers his question. “There are those in Mordain who are not devoted to Ybaris and their queen, who believe Mordain should govern itself. Neilina has controlled them for centuries, her fist firmly around every elemental’s neck with the excuse that she has everyone’s best interests in mind. The people of Mordain and Ybaris have heard a constant drumbeat of the evils of Islor for too long, their kings and queens the ones banging the drum, Neilina worst of all. She has put great effort into convincing Ybarisans that all blame rests at Islor’s feet and they must take back their lands. I think it is time they are made aware of their queen’s folly.”
“Maybe they should stop sending Neilina elementals after they’ve trained them,” I counter.
Wendeline’s smile is patient. “They tried breaking free of her rule once. She froze the ports between Ybaris and Mordain and imprisoned any caster found in Ybaris, killing those who resisted her. We lost many during that time. She used those loyal to her to search for gifted babies and train them, believing she wouldn’t need Mordain, that she’d find her own elementals that way. This went on for thirty years without Neilina finding herself a single elemental.
“She was so frustrated, she decided to send a message. She started filling skiffs with gifted newborns. Her casters used the winds to help guide them across the Gulf of Nyos, to their capital city.” Her face falls. “None survived. After the third skiff of dead infants, they relented and bowed to Neilina once again. She had won. They would rather bend to her rule than risk extinction.”
I grimace against the sour taste in my mouth that comes with this ugly history lesson.
Zander leans back. “According to Tyree, Ianca escaped Argon.”
She pauses. “That’s not an easy feat, from what I’ve heard of the castle.”
“He said she had help. It sounds like she’s not alone.” He waits for her to speak.
I open my mouth—to add that casters helped her—when Zander rests his hand on my knee, stalling my tongue and my ability to breathe for a few beats.
Wendeline’s eyes flash with the display, but she refocuses herself quickly. “Fellow casters likely, though they would need outside aid from servants or the guards. Why they would risk angering Neilina like that … There would need to be a good reason. And she wouldn’t be able to stay in Ybaris. They would hunt her down. I doubt going to Mordain would be any safer.”
“Where do you think she’d go?”
“Seacadore. Or here.”
I catch the nearly inaudible sigh slip from Zander’s lips as he removes his hand from my knee. He was testing her, I realize. “They think Ianca is on her way to Cirilea, and that she might contact Romeria. He insisted Romeria kill her.”
Wendeline stares at the pattern in the rug as she seems to absorb that. “We know that Margrethe was in contact with someone from Mordain. If the scribes can reach us, we must assume they can also reach Argon. For Ianca to escape and travel here, to see you, she must know something vital. Something that might involve you.” She looks to me. “If Ianca is in Cirilea, it is important you speak with her before you kill her. Though I do not recommend the latter. I never would, as you well know.”
“I would think seeking out her kind would be the practical move for an elemental arriving in a foreign land, especially one such as ours.” Zander watches her closely, and I begin to understand where his suspicions are born from.
So must Wendeline, because she meets his gaze with a sureness that is rare for her when she is in his presence. “I am the highest ranked caster in the sanctum, and I have not offered sanctuary to any elementals.”