“Such an unassuming object.” Deneya scowled, taking the quill from Eira and turning it over in her hands. “I would never suspect this thing to be a communication token. Usually, people keep their tokens on them. But perhaps he realized that would be too suspicious. Or if he was caught, we’d confiscate everything important-looking, and he assumed this would be discarded.”
“Seems likely.”
“What did you hear?” Deneya asked. Eira quickly recounted the brief conversation as she listened intently. “That’s all?”
“For now, yes. I’ve only begun trying to actively use this power recently. Perhaps there are more layers I could peel back and get more snippets of conversation. But for now, that’s all I’ve heard.”
“Heretics,” Deneya murmured, repeating Ferro’s word with a deepening frown. She snapped out of her thoughts, looking to Eira. “Well, you have been useful. I’ll take you back now before anyone finds you missing.”
“Wait.” Eira stopped Deneya before she could open the door. The magic of the room vanished as she released it. “I can be more useful if you let me. I’m the last Waterrunner; I’ll be going to Meru.”
Deneya played with the end of the quill in thought. “Do you know what you’re asking?”
“I’m asking for the opportunity to avenge my brother.” Eira leveled her eyes with the elfin’s. “Whoever did this, I want to make them pay. I want to see Ferro brought to justice. Meru has called to me my whole life, perhaps for this purpose and perhaps for another.” Had Ferro’s claims about Adela and Eira’s possible bloodline to the elfin been a lie as well? Eira no longer believed it at face value, certainly. But she knew one place that might have the truth—the Archives of Yargen. And if not there, the Court of Shadows.
“You still want to go to Meru, after what happened to you?” Deneya arched her eyebrows.
“Yes. And I want to help the Court of Shadows.”
The elfin slowly stalked over to her, as much shadow as solid. A grin slipped onto her lips. “You still think I’m part of the Court of Shadows, do you?”
“I know you are,” Eira said without hesitation. “And that makes you my best chance at revenge.”
“If you come into my world…there’s no going back.”
“There’s nothing keeping me here.” She’d killed Marcus. Even if her family would forgive her for the actions she’d unknowingly taken that had led to his death, there was no way they would ever look past the fact that she couldn’t save him when it had mattered most. Eira had taken her parents’ son. How could she hope to ever look them in the eyes again without, at the very least, bringing to justice the man—and organization—responsible?
Deneya’s eyes shone in the darkness. But whatever thoughts prompted the contemplative expression, she kept them from Eira. “Very well. Come to Meru and the Court of Shadows might just have a use for a woman of your talents.”
* * *
She spent six days alone in the Imperial quarters. The same servant came in and out to attend to her needs—an elderly woman who was no doubt more loyal to Solaris than her own self interests. But the woman never made conversation. She never answered Eira’s questions about the world beyond and what was happening. She muttered reassurances: “Trust the crown,” she’d say, and then leave.
Eira’s thoughts were dangerous companions to be left alone with. She went over the night with Deneya time and again to remind herself that it was real. But the more she dissected it and picked those hours apart, word by word, the more it all seemed like a dream. Something about late-night meetings with elfin was too unbelievable to be real. And, just like with Ferro, she had no token to substantiate her moonlit memories come dawn.
Deneya never returned, of course. One or two days, Eira stayed up way too late to see if she visited in the night to check in. But if Deneya did, she left no trace.
It was the lack of Fritz, or Grahm, or Gwen that really began to eat away at her. Surely, they were busy. Fritz was likely drowning in managing the crisis that followed apprentices dying. Grahm was helping him. And Gwen was overseeing the palace guard at the empress’s order.
But…couldn’t they stop in just for a little?
Her logical protests against the insecure portions of her mind grew weaker by the day. It was becoming all too easy to object to the notion that they’d ever loved her. They were so eager to cast her aside when she finally showed her true colors. This was their chance to finally be rid of her.
No! her heart would try and object. But Eira was done listening to her heart. She’d risked it with Adam, then with Ferro.
Never again.
On the morning of the seventh day, the same elderly servant appeared with a bundle of clothes and announced, “I’m going to take you back to the Tower now, dear.”
Eira dressed and followed the woman out of the Imperial halls, secret passages once more—different ones from those Deneya took—until they got to a normal servant’s thoroughfare.
“I know where I am.” Eira adjusted the Tower robes on her shoulders. The candidate pin was affixed to them once more. She had her freedom and her title as competitor—Yemir had lost. “I can go from here.”
“I was told to take you to the entrance.” She was insistent and Eira was too tired to object further. They came to a stop by an illusioned passage, the entrance shrouded with magic to look like the stone walls on either side of the tunnel. “There will be someone waiting for you on the other side.”
“Thank you, for everything,” Eira tried to say with sincerity, though it was so easy to resent the woman for withholding information at every turn.
“It’s my duty to the crown.” She bowed and left.
Eira slipped through the illusion into a
