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“Among other things.” She shrugged. “Why? What would you have suggested I do? I can’t help my brother in any other way and I can’t sit still.”
It was probably more useful than what I’d been doing. “What did you find out?”
“Ulpheas told him.” She scowled. “The snitch.”
“But how would Ulpheas even have known that?” I said slowly. I couldn’t imagine Draven telling him. Nor telling anyone else who might tell Ulpheas–no, not even Lyrastra.
“That’s what I can’t make heads or tails of. Nor why he would tell Avriel either. He’s something of a neutral, Ulpheas. That’s what happens when you’re too cowardly to pick a side, I suppose.”
“He’s a stitcher. Your brother used him to find me in Noctasia the other day.”
Rychel grimaced. “He sure is. And that’s how he got away from me.”
“Away from you?”
“You know, before I could get my hot pokers out and really give him a piece of my mind,” she clarified. “He stitched away. Little fink.”
“You have hot pokers?”
“It’s a euphemism.”
I didn’t ask what for. She looked too grim and angry for me to believe she was entirely joking.
If Ulpheas had told Avriel something so critical, then Ulpheas had harmed Draven by proxy. I couldn’t see Rychel forgiving something like that easily.
“I suppose it’s good to know who we can’t trust, but it doesn’t help us help Draven,” I said quietly.
Rychel nodded. “I’ve been experimenting in my workshop.”
My eyebrows went up. “With?”
“The grail.” She met my gaze then looked away. “It’s not necessarily evil, Morgan.”
“It corrupted the fae children. You use it for the Blood Rise. I’m sorry, I must have missed the part where it had healing properties.”
“But it does. It can do anything. In the right hands. It has limitless potential. I just...” She shook her head, frustrated. “I’m not the right hands. It won’t respond to me. No matter what I try.”
My expression softened as I looked at her. “At least you’re trying, Rychel. Unlike most of the Siabra. At least you still care.” The idea that she could undo what her father had done to the fae children was, well, lunacy in my humble opinion. But it was also admirable.
Rychel was looking past me, at the moonlit field. “I thought it would work. But his body wouldn’t even let me bring it near him.”
“You brought the grail to Draven?” I asked sharply.
She nodded. “It was like a shield was up. Which is impossible. He can’t shield. And yet I couldn’t even bring the cup to his lips.” She looked at me. “Perhaps we should ask Javer...”
“Keep Javer away from Draven and no, even better yet, keep Javer away from the grail. Do you really think that man mixes well with limitless power?”
Rychel nodded. “You probably have a point. But if shielding is involved...”
“It’s not. That’s impossible. Besides, Javer has seen Draven. I’m sure he would have said something if that were the case. He was there when the court healers examined him.”
I didn’t tell Rychel I had come up against the same thing. The invisible wall I had felt when I had tried to use my magic. The tendrils bouncing off something hard and unyielding.
Crescent arrived and soon we were back in the palace.
I stiffened as we approached the door to the suite. Someone was waiting outside.
Avriel peeled himself away from the wall, a grin on his face. The leg he had injured in the last trial looked fine. How disappointing.
