33. Cyara

"Is this how you celebrate Yule in Annwyn?" Percival spat, blood and spittle mingling as they slid down his chin, slowed by the weeks' worth of black stubble.

"You ought to know by now that I consider any day without blood spilt to be an utter waste," Veyka said, wiping the blood from her knuckles on a handcloth. At least she had spared the gown that Cyara had spent hours finishing for her. "Now that we've established that you're at my mercy—"

"The chains weren't fucking en—"

"—it's question time." Veyka crossed her arms under her breasts.

She wore no weapons, though Cyara knew she would not leave the suite of rooms in the tower without her daggers and the scabbard. But for now she was unarmed. That was a decision. Much like hitting Percival and blatantly ignoring Diana.

Veyka had a plan. Not that she would share it until she was good and ready.

At least when Arran was with them, he could intercept her rash schemes.

But that was the least of the reasons to miss the Brutal Prince.

Cyara averted her eyes and went back to folding towels.

"Why was Diana taken instead of you?" Veyka asked.

There was a pause. Cyara counted the seconds. Either Percival did not want to answer at all and was fighting his own nature or he was trying to formulate a response that was truthful but avoided what he did not wish to reveal.

"She had shown potential in the gift of foresight and prophecies," Percival finally said.

Veyka snorted. "One can easily assume that you showed no potential for anything at all."

Silence from Percival.

That was telling, as well. They had assumed that he left Avalon and the priesthood to search for Diana, eventually being blackmailed by Gorlois and tricking them into following him to Avalon. But perhaps Percival had not left the sacred isle of his own accord after all. Maybe he had failed to prove useful, and they had ousted him.

Cyara slowed the pace of her folding, drawing out the task so that no one would notice her. Veyka listened to the words. Cyara read the spaces in between.

"What do prophecies have to do with opening rifts?" Veyka asked.

"I don't know." Percival answered immediately.

Veyka cursed under her breath.

Somehow, Gorlois had used Diana to move himself through rifts, between realms, as if he had the void power. Some facsimile of it, based on the villain's words at the Battle of Avalon. Diana was a half-witch. Surely that had something to do with it. But their female prisoner currently huddled in the corner, watching her brother's questioning from behind trembling fingers.

Veyka tapped the foot of her slipper on the ground, the sound muffled by the thick carpets strewn over the otherwise frigid stone floors. Cyara missed the inherent warmth of the goldstones of Baylaur. She missed her flowing, clean white gowns and familiar food for every meal. Her parents… she had no way of getting word about how they were. Even if they sent a message from Eilean Gayl now, with a flying fauna-gifted terrestrial, it would take more than a month to hear back. No one would try to cross the Split Sea, which meant the winged shifter would have to cross the Spine, sail over the Shadow Wood, across the Spit, beyond the Barren Dunes and back up to Baylaur. By the time a return message came, they likely would not be in Eilean Gayl to receive it.

Still, she knew that Veyka had written missives. Closeted away with the Lady of Eilean Gayl the day before, the two females had sent letters off in every direction. Cyara did not need to guess at the contents. They were warnings. Watch the males. Gather your amorite. Prepare for the darkness to come.

If they would take those warnings with any degree of seriousness remained to be seen.

"How did you use the communication crystals to communicate with your sister?"

Cyara heard the rapid uptick of Percival's heart in his chest. That meant Veyka and Lyrena did as well. It was well done, to switch topics so abruptly. Veyka would not need the witch magic compelling Percival's answers to read his reaction. She had a lifetime at the elemental court to teach her how to do that.

Percival answered quickly this time as well. Probably hoping that the sound of his voice would cover the staccato rhythm of his heart.

"I said the incantation, and then I said my message," he said.

Before, he told them that the communication crystals worked on intention. The person on the receiving end had to be open to hearing from the speaker. Now, there was an incantation required as well.

He was leading them in circles.

But to what purpose? Escape? To protect Diana? Did he think that if he led Veyka on, she would keep questioning him and forget that his sister was half-witch as well?

A shiver of awareness snaked up Cyara's spine, into her wings so that they twitched. Just slightly. But she saw Veyka mark the motion. So, she was totally unsurprised when Veyka grabbed Percival's arm and hauled him to his feet.

"Make him presentable," she said, shoving him at Lyrena. "He's going to celebrate Yule with us down in the hall."

His red ochre skin paled. "What… what about Diana?"

Cyara set aside her laundry and let the harpy inside of her show through, just in her eyes. "She and I shall spend some quality time together."