Gesine dips her head with her usual deference. “It is my pleasure. As always.”
“A strong warrior. A protector. She will make a good lover, and not hesitate to end your suffering when the time comes.” Ianca gulps another spoonful of oatmeal, her defective eyes on her bowl.
Gesine’s jaw drops and a nervous laugh escapes, her cheeks flushing. “Do let me know if there’s any more pain or difficulty drawing breath.”
With one last glance at the seer, Zorya strolls away, readjusting the daggers at her sides.
“Ianca! Do not say such things!” Gesine chastises, sounding less like the serene caster and more like an appalled friend. Or more than a friend. I’m beginning to see a deeper connection than simply two powerful casters who were trapped in a jeweled castle together.
Ianca shrugs, unbothered. “I can feel her. The other Romeria.”
“Yes, she is right here.”
I hesitate. The last time I spoke to Ianca, she started screaming. “Good morning?”
“Morning, dear.” She shovels in another spoonful.
Shaking her head, Gesine turns back to me. “You’re protecting your shoulder.”
“Yeah, I must have torn something. It kept me up half the night.” With the help of someone else.
“Allow me to look while you fill me in on all that happened yesterday after we parted ways.” She reaches for me.
I take a quick step back. “I will, but first, I need you to mark the mortal from Bellcross before the supply wagons get here.”
“You brought a mortal from Bellcross? Why?”
I explain as quickly as I can.
“I see.” She frowns. “What kind of symbol?”
“The day of the royal repast, Wendeline put an emblem on the hands of the tainted humans. It glowed like the marks you have on your arm, except it was—”
“The mark of Ulysede,” Ianca cuts in. She tosses her spoon, and dipping her hand into her porridge, she coats her fingers with the slop and finger-paints on the wagon wall. While the medium isn’t the most effective, the intersecting crescent moons are unmistakable.
“Yes. That’s it. How did she know?”
Gesine studies not the drawing but the seer for a moment, a quizzical look on her face, before she hops off the wagon. “I’ll be back soon, Ianca. You’ll stay here?”
Ianca doesn’t answer, focused on drawing swirling patterns on the wagon wall.
The grass tangles at our ankles as I lead us toward the horses and the barn. “Is that normal?”
“Nothing is normal anymore. But seers will often illustrate what they see with surprising clarity. It is why the scribes give them paper and graphite. Unfortunately, we don’t have either, so Ianca improvised.” A small smile curls her lips. “She always was clever like that.”
“So she has seen that symbol?”
“All of us in Mordain have. It has appeared in seers’ illustrations for millennia, without any explanation from the seers themselves as to what it means. Some assume it represents the two moons of Hudem, but those are full moons, and these are crescents. Others have called it the mark of two worlds, because the moons intersect. That Wendeline chose this symbol for the mortals … I wish I could speak with her and understand if it was mere coincidence or something more.” She glances back at Ianca. “But I have never heard this term Ulysede before.”
I hesitate, looking around us to make sure no one’s near. “I’ve seen the symbol too. In my world.” I explain the People’s Sentinel.
“Was their blood poisoned? Does the blood curse plague your world?” Gesine asks, intrigue in her tone.
“I don’t know. Definitely not like here. Sure, we’ve heard of vampires, but it’s all fiction.” At least, I thought it was.
“Vampire,” she echoes, as if the word is as foreign as Ulysede.
“What do you think this all means?”