Who now hated me.
I arrived at my rooms moments before a red-banded messenger knocked. Orrik, acting as Dragonmaster, wanted to speak to me.
Perfect, I thought as I followed the boy. I can tell him about Tressa, and maybe Orrik will tell me what he and Merram have been hiding from me.
The steward let me in without delay. Orrik rose from behind Merram’s desk, his meticulous self looking out of place with the semi-chaos surrounding him. “Have a seat.”
I did. The moment my rump hit wood, I blurted, “Tressa of Blackveil is trying to figure out who I am.”
Orrik halted mid-sit, then slowly lowered into Merram’s chair. It was the most off-guard I’d ever seen him. “What do you mean?”
“Tressa and I used to be friends, but I accidentally insulted her.” I grimaced. “Mostly accidentally. I embarrassed her. And now she hates me, and she is determined to ruin my life.”
Orrik quickly scribbled something on a sheet of paper. “Blackveil, you said? Did you try to make amends?”
My face heated. “I’ve been busy at the Quarters. I meant to write a letter…”
“Then I advise you do so as soon as possible.” He scribbled one thing more, then set down the pen. “We covered our tracks very well, but it is always best if there are no suspicions.”
I nodded, but I’d hoped he’d be more alarmed. I suspected Orrik had no idea of Tressa’s determination.
“As to why I’ve summoned you…”
Right. I’d been so worried about Tressa, I’d forgotten that Orrik had been the one to summon me.
“There is no gentle way to say it. Carthesia occupies the County of Tworivers. The village of Stoneyfield no longer exists.”
What?
The blood drained from my face, leaving me prickly and spiraling. “What do you mean, gone?”
“Our battle mages clashed with Carthesia’s there, and I’m afraid not much remains,” Orrik said. Though his words were gentle, he sounded as if he was reading a report. “In good news, most of the residents evacuated in time. The men were already in the army, of course, so we do not know of their individual situations. The women and children, however, were escorted by dragon on Merram’s direct orders.”
By dragon. The falling sensation stopped as I grabbed on to the unspoken words in Orrik’s black eyes. Lily, and the women I’d grown up with, they were safe. Evacuated. By Merram’s orders.
As a thank you to Lily and Garth for raising his child?
“There is more,” Orrik said. I braced myself. “The Dragonmaster is disappointed with your Gift’s lack of progress. He regrets to inform you that, unless you can cast a spell for Zoland by the end of the week, you will be asked to leave the Kyer.”
That stunned me almost more than the news of Stoneyfield. “I know we’re to learn fireproofing soon, but bonding—”
“Adara, you’ve had over a month to figure out what most mages achieve in a day.”
My protests died on my tongue.
“We gave you a chance,” Orrik continued, “but we cannot waste the Kyer’s resources any longer.”
I thought of the Infirmary, of how any mage could have helped Shamino more than I. The Dragonmaster was right. Betrayal stabbed my heart regardless.
I swallowed the urge to cry. “Shamino said he’d send a letter—”
“Which he did, via courier, and the Dragonmaster has reviewed. Although Shamino’s requests have merit, and the dragons’ support is touching, the Dragonmaster stands by his decision. As I told the Seneschal this morning.”
“Shamino knows?” I would not, would not cry. “Where am I to go, then? Stoneyfield is gone. They didn’t want me, anyway. What about Carthesia?”
“Carthesia has no use for a mage who cannot cast spells.”
Thorkel’s note and gift of the sapphire said otherwise. The Dragonmaster may have lost faith in me, but his enemy hadn’t.
“I am sorry, Adara, I am only the messenger,” Orrik said. The severity of his expression softened, and he leaned forward just a little. “It is my personal hope that you will find inspiration in the Dragonmaster’s threat.”
I’d been around Tressa long enough to sometimes pick up the hidden meaning in nobles’ words. Orrik didn’t agree with Merram’s decision. Last time I had overheard them disagreeing, Orrik had urged Merram to tell me the truth.
My mouth went dry. “Merram’s disappointed because his daughter turned out to be a failure, isn’t he?”
Orrik frowned. “Excuse me?”
“Merram.” I watched Orrik’s face for a sign. Any sign. “He’s my father.”
Orrik’s eyes, posture, everything firmed into the blank wall I’d known on our journey. “I do not have permission to speak of your parentage.”
“Which means you know.” I stood and spread my hands. “Orrik, please, tell me. Why does he keep it from me?”
“I swore an oath.”
Pigshit. Nobles took oaths very, very seriously. Orrik would die before telling me.
A knock sounded on the door. The steward from the foyer peeked in. “Orrik, we, ah, have a situation. Regarding the spy.”
Orrik muttered he’d be back. In seconds, the door shut behind him, leaving me still leaning against the desk.
I blinked, stunned, though I shouldn’t have been. The person who had left me gifts, they must have betrayed us to Thorkel.
Do I betray us now by hiding those directions?
No. I’d already decided handing over the note did no good. I saved dragons’ lives by keeping it a secret.
But thinking of Thorkel’s letter gave me an idea. What if Merram had written something about me? I circled the desk and started to rummage through its contents. If I got caught… well, Merram was already threatening to take away everything I cared about.
I scanned page after page for my name, but I had no luck. Not on the desk’s surface, nor in the first drawer, nor in the second. Then, in the bottom drawer, I noticed a crack in the wood. The edges weren’t jagged, like a natural split, but smooth as if handled frequently. Through it, the slightest hint of yellow. I tugged on the board… and found letters.
Letters written in the same handwriting that had taught me first the alphabet and
