Chapter 6 #2
Taven could, of course, explain none of that to the people in the room.
He needed Esmeray alone for the next part, and for that to happen, the conversation had to end.
“Ilynglass?” Asterin’s grin was brief. “I’ve heard the rumors, the parallels with the Seven Sisters and the lost kingdom, but many refugees from the mountain villages have come to the Reliquary, as well as the Sepulchre, and if there were any strong connection, we’d know more than we do.”
“The curias speak to no one about the curias but the curias,” Esmeray said, her dark eyes shifting into the initial throes of her rote melancholy.
“There is nothing you could do to persuade one of us because we are trained to withstand torture for such purposes. Many of my people have been systematically executed to extract this information, and their deaths have all been in vain. How there’s been an entire community of us only a short ride away, and I’ve never known it, speaks to how well we keep secrets. ”
Which is the fault of your curia. Esmeray was an Eversong, one of the silver tongues. They could spin stories, narratives, and could end them. It was Curia Eversong who had spun the magic that forbade those with the blood of Ilynglass to speak openly beyond their borders.
The clairsight had shown Taven this, and that many things—like the cursed bond—could be undone when he and Ellie were welcomed home.
It all hinged upon them arriving at the right curia.
“Then what do you suggest, Baroness, seeing as it was your people who created this curse?”
“It’s no curse,” Esmeray said. Her brows formed two deep creases. “The bond has another name, one I cannot share. But it is no curse. A curse is not something we can choose. It’s something that happens to us. Elloven offered her word and life for his. She made a choice.”
And that, that was the part Taven struggled with most. Ellie hadn’t been coerced into joining herself to Jesstin for the rest of her days. She’d known exactly what she was agreeing to and had hardly hesitated at all.
“And now we are here,” Taven said. He tapped his foot.
It was already midmorning. They had to be mindful of Quinlanden guards, who’d be patrolling the roads, which meant crossing into the Westerlands as quickly as possible.
They’d need to wait until tomorrow to take advantage of a full day’s light, and he was done waiting.
“Asterin, I still think you should go to the Sepulchre. Who knows what you’ll find. ”
“I intend to.” Asterin’s tone was short. Taven supposed he couldn’t blame him. He had nearly gotten the man’s brother killed. “Emrys and Rhiain will speak to the man who runs Mythgarde. I believe they call him Pretor?”
Pretor was an honorific, not a name, but Taven said nothing.
“You’ll get nowhere with him,” Jesstin said. “His gold and favor depend on things running as they always have.”
“He hasn’t met your sister, has he?” Rhiain grinned, but Jesstin’s mouth only twitched.
“I appreciate your help,” Ellie said. “But these past years have thrown sign after sign at me that I’m meant to go to my people. They will have the answers. I feel it in my bones.”
There’s my girl. Lay the foundation, and I will build us a palace.
“Not this again, El.” Esmeray pinched her spine straight. She was more alert than she’d been in months. “They are a dangerous, volatile people. I wish you would listen to me. They cannot be trusted.”
“Clearly.” Rhiain gestured at the newly bonded couple.
“I can’t even take a fucking piss without wondering if I’m going to be snapped back to her side,” Jesstin muttered. “So ‘dangerous’ sounds like a holiday to me right about now.”
The woundedness in Ellie’s haunted eyes was disturbing, but Taven was more aggravated with Jesstin for being so ungrateful.
She’d saved his damn life. She had a good heart.
It was the only explanation for why she’d made such a thoughtless decision, and if she hadn’t made it, Jesstin’s family would be dressing his body for the vault.
But he was complaining about being tethered to Ellie? Really?
“It’s out of the question.” Esmeray’s arthritic hands curled inward. “We’ll find another way.”
“You already said there isn’t one,” Ellie said. “What else is left but to appeal to the source of it all?”
“We’ll find another way.” Esmeray’s eyes glistened.
Her malaise was creeping back. The herb she packed in her pipe dealt her relief in cycles.
Having wiped her drool and helped her into bed more times than he could count, Taven recognized she would need to sleep soon, which gave him the perfect way to end the conversation.
“Esme needs rest,” he said, standing. None of the others followed his movements, a blatant show of disrespect. “Ellie and Jesstin should stay here for now, and we’ll confer again tomorrow.”
After we’ve left and no one can do a damn thing about it.
Rhiain leaned in toward her brother. “Jess, you tell me what you want us to do. Stay? Go? Asterin is leaving for the Sepulchre in the morning, but I’ll be staying behind. We have a year to solve this, and we will solve it.”
Jesstin closed his eyes. “You can go, Rhi. I don’t think I’ve ever been so damned tired.”
“You can take my room. I’ll sleep here, on the lounger,” Elloven said softly. Her hand hovered just above his arm before withdrawing.
“I’m fine here. You go.”
“Lovely. Shall we?” Taven started toward the door, gesturing for the guests to follow. He bristled at their refusal, the way they looked to everyone but him for guidance.
Rhiain kissed the top of her brother’s head. “We’ll be back tomorrow then. We will fix this, Jess.” She nodded at Ellie. “Elloven.”
Ellie nodded in silence.
“Thank you for your hospitality, Baroness.” Asterin had a hand on his wife’s back as he guided them toward the door.
Neither of them had looked at Taven at all.
“If you think of anything else that might help us, no matter how insignificant, please send for us right away. If traveling to the mountains isn’t a viable option, there must be an alternative. ”
Get them out. Speak to the daughter of Eversong. No more delaying.
Taven sometimes wondered whether he should call his gift clairvoice instead, because most of what he saw followed the words he was given.
I know, he answered. Trust me to see it done.
Then see it done.
“Perhaps...” Esme swayed in her chair.
Taven had to get in her ear now.
Asterin and Rhiain lingered another long moment before leaving. Taven bolted the door behind them.
“I’ll help Esme back to bed,” he said and rushed to the woman’s chair, expecting Ellie to argue and insist on doing it herself.
But all Ellie did was nod and wipe her face.
No more tears, my love. It will all have been worth it. All that has come before will have been but a terrible nightmare.
Now I shall spin you the perfect dream.
Jesstin couldn’t even stand to look at Elloven.
He hadn’t started the evening wanting to die, but the peace he’d felt sitting in that dusty, cobwebbed cell, surrounded by the tombs and ghosts of the past, was undeniable.
“Perhaps this is the Guardians’ unambiguous way of telling you there is no mercy for a man like you,” Gennady said, right on time as always.
“Sod off,” Jesstin hissed under his breath with a panicked look at Elloven, but she was lost in her thoughts at the window.
The morning light bathed her in a rosy glow that would have knocked him sideways before, but in a matter of hours, he’d gone from being hopelessly enchanted by her to wishing they’d never met.
If he could go back in time, he would never have helped Elloven or offered her an escape. Then he’d never have seen the way Taven manipulated her, never have felt the bewitching stir of recognizing a kindred spirit.
“If you cause even one more tear to fall from her eyes...” Gennady warned, but he winked away. He never lasted long, but it was always long enough to get under Jesstin’s skin.
I’m not the cause of her tears, asshole. And if more were coming, those weren’t his fault either.
“I really don’t know what to say.” Elloven turned, half of her bathed in the shadows of the curtains drawn on every window but hers. “I’m not sorry for saving your life, and I’m not clear on what the problem is.”
“The problem, Elloven, is I didn’t ask you to.”
“I know you’re worried about me, and what happens in a year—”
“I’m not thinking about you at all.” Jesstin felt the burn of the words leaving his tongue.
She recoiled. “You’re welcome for giving you another year of life to think about nothing.”
“Let’s return to the part where I didn’t ask you to.” Jesstin’s head was splitting, for far too many reasons. “Is it true? Asterin won’t find anything at the Sepulchre?”
She shrugged. “I learned more in Mythgarde last night than my mother’s ever told me.”
“Rhiain won’t get anywhere with Pretor Ignatius. He has too much to lose.”
“His name is Ignatius? Pretor is a title?”
“A title your people use.”
Elloven fisted her hair at the nape and tugged her head back. “You know more about my own people than I do.”
“I know nothing.”
“You work with them every night. Surely you’ve learned something?”
There was no point in explaining Mythgarde to her. “Nothing useful.”
“How do you know what could be useful?”
“More than you, apparently.”
Elloven rolled her eyes and leaned into the dusty curtain. “You’d really rather be dead than bound to me?”
Jesstin realized he had no idea how to respond. “Are you saying you want this?”
“Merely trying to be reasonable about the options available to us, though I suppose reasonableness is a disposition unsuited to your constitution,” she retorted.
She may as well have called him a child, and it stung, more than it should. “What am I supposed to think when a woman I barely know throws her life away for mine?”