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The prince’s eyes have closed, his wan face gone slack. The royal children have been through plenty of agony of their own in the past day.
At least Ivy returned to me. Their parents are gone forever.
I wasn’t born, and I have nothing but revulsion for the people who trapped me with the intention of making me their slave, so I’m not sure what a regular human would feel toward a mother or a father. From the few times she’s mentioned them, Ivy’s connection to her parents has seemed mostly unpleasant.
But clearly that isn’t always the case. Even if I don’t understand, I’m sorry these three have had to experience such a permanent loss.
Ivy keeps her voice quiet, I assume to avoid waking the prince. “What exactly will we need to do once we get to Florian? You said there’s proof of your claim to the throne?”
Petra’s mouth tightens, but she nods. “We expected that Father would be able to announce me and then there’d be no question… But he kept a blood-sworn letter confirming my identity in a secure area of his private quarters. We’ll want to retrieve that if possible. I’m not sure what’s going on in the Palace of the Crown now.”
Princess Klaudia shivers. “All our things—all Mother and Father’s things—they can’t just take our home…”
She trails off with a miserable expression.
“We’ll get your home back for you as quickly as we can,” Casimir says softly, but his worried expression tells me that he suspects “quickly” is probably not going to be very quick at all.
Petra’s tone firms. “Lothar and his followers won’t get away with their crimes.” She turns back to Ivy. “We can also reach out to the cleric at the Temple of the Crown who oversaw my dedication. She can vouch that I’m next in the royal line.”
Ivy lets out a rough chuckle. “That should be simpler than getting into the palace, at least.”
“What about all the soldiers?” Klaudia demands abruptly. “Aren’t they supposed to be loyal to us, not the traitors? They know Jacos and me, even if they won’t be sure of you right away. Why can’t we ride to one of the forts and get them to set things right?”
I know the horrible answer to that question. “There are daimon like me mixed in with the soldiers. But unlike me, the scourge sorcerers are still controlling them.”
Stavros grimaces. “Yes. The last thing I’d want to do is to lead you to a group of armed men and women with uncertain loyalties. The scourge sorcerers wanted all of you dead, and it wouldn’t mean much to them to sacrifice a few of their captured daimon to see it happen. Rheave can identify his fellow spirits, but only when they’re very close by. We’ll reach out to the military presence near Florian, but we’ll have to be very careful about it.”
Ivy looks over her shoulder at me, her brow knitting. “But maybe we won’t need to worry about the other daimon anymore. Lothar said that the woman who was controlling me had gotten ‘practice’ by directing the daimon. She’s dead now. Doesn’t that mean they’ll be as free as you are?”
My spirits lift momentarily at the idea that I might never have to worry about those bonds of magic yanking at me again. They sink just as swiftly. “I don’t think it can all have been handled by just one scourge sorcerer. There were so many of us. And they didn’t need to work their magic on us regularly. The commands would linger for days after they took hold.”
Alek has been taking in our conversation in silence. He interjects with his usual scholarly precision. “It must be much easier for them to manipulate people whose bodies they created and whose spirits they already harnessed than a regular person whose body is her own. And Ivy’s magic would have required so much more effort to contain. That one sorcerer could have been in charge of hundreds of daimon who haven’t felt her renewed influence in a couple of days already.”
Petra sighs. “But we can’t know how long the previous influence will last or whether other scourge sorcerers will enforce their will again. Ster. Stavros is right. We need to proceed with every possible caution.”
She glances down at her sleeping brother. “The consequences of a misstep would be far too great.”
We lapse into silence, broken a few minutes later by Casimir’s tentative question. “Did you have any idea of Lothar’s intentions? Obviously your father still trusted him up to the end, but now that he’s revealed himself—did anything show in his words or behavior, looking back, that might help us determine his next steps or how to undermine him?”
“I never liked him,” Klaudia mutters. “He always talked like he thought he knew more than anyone else possibly could. And he tried to get the festival for Signy cancelled, because he insisted we shouldn’t be celebrating heroes from other countries. But she helped all of us get free from the Darium empire!”
Ivy hums to herself. “He does seem to be obsessed with doing things the ‘right’ way—his Order of the Wild is built on a vision of how Silana is meant to be and what would bring the All-Giver back.”
“He wants to rewind history to before Dariu ever invaded,” Alek says. “As if that was any kind of golden age.”
Petra frowns. “There were definitely things about him that rubbed me the wrong way, but even now, I can’t think of any warning signs we missed. He always acted as if he wanted to support Father completely. But then, I wasn’t around him very often after my dedication ceremony. I don’t know how much I missed.”
Stavros adjusts his grip on his reins, his expression grim. “He’s had access to some of the innermost levels of the country’s rulership. There won’t be much he doesn’t know how to manipulate. It’s no wonder we’ve found the conspiracy so difficult to rout out.”
Ivy shakes her head. “But people can’t really want the kind of world he’s been working on creating—all wildness and violence. We know who and what we’re really dealing with now. We’ll expose him and his practices, and most of Silana will be on our side. It’s just a matter of getting the word out.”
She looks so determined that I have to fight off another urge to push closer, to hug her to me. It doesn’t matter how hard our journey gets—she’s always willing to keep up her own fight.
As we emerge from the woods and cross a large stretch of fields, we let the conversation fade. Ivy hasn’t risked using her magic to hide us like she did in the past, but we waited until night fell to start our trek, and so far we haven’t encountered any patrols. Staying off the official roads must help.
The thought has just passed through my head when my eyes pick up a figure on horseback cantering along a small country lane in the moonlight up ahead.
We draw our horses to a halt, but the man doesn’t glance our way. A thin flag whips about in the wind of his passage.
