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Alisdair chuckled. “If such a thought were in my head, the immediate thought following it would be that my fierce and brutal queen would hunt me down, and bash such a foolish notion out of my skull.”
“Too right she would.”
“Is everything okay?” Treasa asked, catching the end of my reply.
“Everything’s fine.” I kept my voice low out of respect for the sleeping babies.
Long, furry noses and bony, clawed hands poked out of their slings. If the curse took this community first, it explained why there was no preamble with the next generations. They were all born cursed.
“We’ve come to ask for your help,” I continued, dropping down in the armchair across from her. “Although, I admit I don’t know how you’re meant to help us.”
Alisdair took over. “Treasa is the only one to help us. She is the spymaster of Lumenfell.”
I gaped at the beaming, barefoot woman covered in babies. “I beg your pardon?”
She laughed. “My lord flatters me with such an important title. I am merely a go-between for him and his loyal servants within the other kingdoms. You see, Mother Meya saw fit to bless me with a gift.” Treasa pressed her finger to her temple and turned to the side.
“What am I—?” I lurched back, clutching the chair arms.
A mirror appeared before Treasa’s face, and the reflection in it... was mine.
My round eyes, hanging jaw, and whipping head as I tried to see how she was doing that.
“I pierce through the veil of distance and space,” Treasa said, “allowing me to keep a concerned eye on the nations. I can also do—” Treasa picked up a pillow and tossed it through the mirror. It appeared out of the air and plopped on my lap. “This.”
“Amazing,” I breathed. “I’ve never heard of such an incredible power.”
She smiled serenely. “It is my honor to be blessed by Meya. It is incredible the gifts that can develop when our magic is allowed to grow and change freely.”
Foalan took that opportunity to bring out the tea. I sat back and sipped while the three of them made idle conversation.
For centuries, Elvans have cursed their inability to defeat Shadowsoul, and for centuries, they didn’t know it was because they continued to underestimate him. The wealth and power he hoarded in his small, barren, freezing corner of the world was staggering. A spymaster that could freely and discreetly watch King Salman while he plotted, planned, and took a shit? Elva had already lost the war, they just hadn’t accepted it yet.
But what about my war?I paused bringing the cup to my lips.Isn’t Treasa the key to everything? She could look in on my family. She could pass them a message. She could help me break this curse.
“Aya Treasa,” I blurted, breaking into the conversation. “Can you check on some people for me? Olene, Meliora, Gisela, Jaclan, and Savia. I—” I tossed my head. “Actually, forget Jaclan. I don’t know why I said that name. I don’t know who that is, but the other four,” I pressed, leaning in. “Can you look in on the other four? Just to—”make sure they’re okay,was stolen off my tongue.
Of course, Emiana wouldn’t care in the slightest about the well-being of a few peasants. “Just to check,” I said instead.
Treasa shook her head. “I’m sorry, Lady Ana.” It stood my hairs on end that she already knew I preferred to be called Ana.“I can’t look in on people I’ve never met, but I can tell you which of your loyal servants would do well inserting themselves into key positions and places around Elva. That I can do easily.”
“One would need to pose as a temple priestess in Rajadom,” Foalan added.
She whistled. “You do bring me the most interesting challenges, Foalan. As you know, priestesses are chosen from birth. One doesn’t simply walk in and request the job.”
“Is my spymaster telling me she means to fail me?” Alisdair’s voice dropped the freezing temperature another twenty degrees.
One of the babies stopped nursing and stared at him, as if sensing danger, and knowing exactly where to look.
Treasa’s smile went nowhere. “I have never failed you, my lord. I have no intention of doing so now. Give me two days. Assignments will be handed out and assets moved into position by then.”
“Very well.” Alisdair stood to leave.
“What about the siren?” I asked. “We have another strategy. A better one. Send her back to her home.”
“She goes nowhere until after we’ve won. A general goes to war with a thousand strategies, not just one. Should our plan fail, we will need her and her power.”
“But, Alisdair—”
