Chapter 13

Chapter

Thirteen

TAMAS

Razohan would never demean themselves by taking the form of a rodent, yet I had to be cunning. Taking another apostle's life would rouse too many suspicions, especially considering the inexplicable events Tressya and I had undoubtedly caused the last time we were here, so I spared an apostle's life and took a rodent's instead. I soon discovered rats were quite intelligent, though their minds were easily manipulated. And while I loathed placing myself in such a vulnerable position, the rat proved my best disguise when it came to entering fortresses fortified by the Salmun's presence.

I'd arrived in Tolum not long prior to entering Emberforge, taking longer to reach the south because of unfavorable winds. Perched atop the grand entrance gates of Emberfell, I observed Tressya boarding a carriage alongside an older woman, garbed in what appeared to be mourning attire, yet clearly not the former queen. A single glance at her taut body, confident gait, and stern expression told me it was the Mother. She moved with swift, deliberate steps, vigilantly surveying her surroundings. It was a good thing I remained in eagle form, for staying hidden from someone as perceptive and skilled as the Mother would be a challenge.

I'd followed the carriage from up high, until I was confident of where they were heading, then took the direct route, beating them to Emberforge.

From my vantage point on a spire, in a quandary as to the quickest way enter Emberforge, my eagle eyes had spied a rat. Rather than making it a meal, the urge governed chiefly by the eagle, I decided it was the perfect disguise—once I swallowed my prejudice.

Entering the throne room, I discovered my feelings had changed. I couldn't explain how or why, but I no longer felt the incessant craving to sit upon the Bone Throne once again.

During the weeks I was kept in the north, I longed to return to the Bone Throne and feel what I could only describe as the late King Ricaud's spirit pass through me. This desire filled my head as much as my need to return to Tressya. Yet, here I stood with mere feet to reach the dais upon which the throne sat and I balked.

I had come here to find one of the three apostles, holding the keys to the sanctum of solmira, determine to finally find the Senjel Oracles, but once I'd stepped foot in Emberforge, my feet brought me to the throne room.

Coming upon the hour, Emberforge would fall silent during the vigil of devotion. Apostles without duties would spend their quiet contemplation in one of their favorite temples, emptying the corridors. There was no better time for me to sit upon the throne, given it was right in front of me.

Instead, I listened to the quiet shuffle of slippered feet as a handful of apostles moved along the corridor outside the throne room. No one was to enter the throne room without the presence of one of the Salmun, so I felt sure I wouldn't be discovered, and it was a simple matter of assuming my new form if I heard someone approaching.

Just get up there.

I was running out of time to hunt down one of the three holders of the keys. Fists palmed, I strode the remaining distance across the dark stone floor and up onto the black stone dais. I slumped heavy onto the throne, then inhaled long and deep before easing against the backrest, feeling the carved faces of the long-lost deities jutting into my spine—presumedly, King Ricaud didn't make a habit of sitting on the Bone Throne for long.

I eased out a few more breaths as I gripped the skeletal armrests, fighting against a sudden surge of revulsion that felt like claws scraped across my stomach. I could feel the corners of my lips pull back, feel the slight sting in my gums as my fangs descended and a soft snarl escaped, vibrating across my lips.

The Eone had warned me of the Bone Throne's corruptive power. Perhaps this was the reason it was so difficult for me to remain seated? But the Eone's words were likely lies. I would be na?ve to believe any of what they said after they'd invaded my dreams and memories, looking to manipulate me for their gain. More likely, my reluctance to remain on the Bone Throne was born of the Eone's dishonest influence.

I didn't want to believe that our legends of the benevolent King Ricaud were lies. The blooded carried the memories of their ancestors, according to Romelda, which meant they would know the truth. The Nazeen wouldn't stand beside a tyrant. Unless their memories were corrupted.

I launched up from the throne, unable to remain seated any longer. Too many conflicting thoughts muddled my mind. This was the curse of the Eone. Their poisonous whispers were infecting me, causing me to doubt everything I'd known to be true, to doubt the blooded Nazeen, unmatched in their loyalty to the Bone Throne

Movement cleared my mind, enabled me to think, and there was little room for me to pace on the dais, so I leaped down onto the stone floor to stand amongst the flecks of white embedded in the black floor marble.

I gazed at the starry floor beneath my feet, realizing it resembled a scene from my dreams; a single dream, crafted by the Eone. They either drew upon my memories of this throne room to recreate that scene, or the ruined castle atop the mountain and its surroundings were the source of the stone used to build Emberforge's throne room, indicating that the ruined castle indeed existed.

Two apostles in conversation approached. I recognized them by their shuffling feet and the respectfully subdued tone of their voices. Did this mean the vigil of devotion had ended, showing I'd lost track of time? I ignored them, trusting they wouldn't wish to face the Salmun's sanctions for entering the throne room alone .

My heart skipped a beat when the slippered feet paused outside the door, their conversation turning to a whisper. I glanced over my shoulder, checking the door was firmly closed.

At the sound of the door handles turning, I transformed back into a rat and scurried toward the shadows cast by the stone dais, thanking my luck the room was dim.

"I fear this isn't wise."

Thanks to Petrulus, I recognized Wellard's voice.

"The time for keeping secrets has ended. We have to be bold."

And that was Plesy, the scribe master and member of a small band of apostles disloyal to the Salmun. Encroaching where he shouldn't, alongside a member of the rebel apostles, meant Wellard was one of them.

"This is too great a risk. The whereabouts of all the Salmun are not accounted for. And we don't even know if this will work. We've failed so many times, I'm afraid we'll never succeed."

Though he knew of their presence, and was slowly surmounting his fear, flirting with the idea of joining them, Petrulus was not a part of this rebel group. The day I took his soul, I'd learned from Petrulus all I would learn about them. But I wanted to learn more.

"Courage, Wellard. We can't afford to be cowards. The queen needs us. She needs all the information we can gather for her."

My nose twitched at hearing her name.

"We don't even know if we can trust her. She's one of them, and this is her herit?— "

"She's not one of them, you fool. How can she be? You know that. The Salmun's curse has remained for a millennium. There are no Tannard bastards within Tolum."

There was nothing within the throne room except the throne to interest them, so why were they here?

"The prophecy said the bloodborn would come from the north."

"It seems likely now the prophecy actually meant a bloodborn with links to the north. Someone must have transcribed it wrong. An easy mistaken given the complexities of the ancient tongue and augurs' penchant for speaking in riddles. I said nothing about this when I spoke to the queen."

Tressya spoke to him?

"That you spoke to the queen is something I'm still recovering from."

That cunning little minx. She'd already learned of the apostles' betrayal of the Salmun. And now she had them on her side.

"It's as I said, Wellard. It's time to be brave. We must trust the great Goddess Ovia is protecting us and steering us on the right path. She sent us Tressya."

I almost released a squeak on hearing the Eone's name.

"If you think so." Wellard sounded far from convinced.

Goddess Ovia . If I was a man, I'd spit. This proved the apostles had found some reference to the Eone in their extensive library. However, not understanding their true nature, they assumed the Eone was part of the old religion. Though, it was possible the Eone falsified the historical accounts by ensuring they were recorded favorably, or perhaps they really claimed divinity .

"I know so, brother. And that's why we must at least try our best to help the queen."

"We'll be no use to her if the Salmun catches us in here."

"Courage, brother."

I remained in the dais's shadow, watching the two of them pass close by, heading to the back of the throne. For what reason could they head back there? Once they'd passed, I followed, scuttling beside the rock, using its shadow for shelter.

The last glimpse I got before Wellard blocked my view was Plesy placing his hand on the rock underneath the throne. It grew even more bizarre when Plesy fell to his knees. Was he going to pray to Ovia for divine help?

The two chanted in whispers, using a foreign or ancient tongue, perhaps passed down by the Eone, through whatever teachings the apostles had found. My ears twitched as I tried to catch most of the words. I had a good ear for foreign languages, but whispered and then filtered through the rat's brain, meant what they chanted was too difficult to decipher.

Wellard dropped to his knees beside Plesy, joining his hands with Plesy's on the rock under the throne.

"It's taking too long," Wellard said, interrupting the chant.

"Trust, Wellard. Just a little longer." Plesy continued his chanting. Wellard soon rejoined him.

The dim golden light from the flaming torches bracketed to the walls, failed to reach behind the throne, making it safe for me to creep closer, though I suspected neither would bother about a rat .

Staying close to the rock, I halted upon feeling a burgeoning warmth at my side. Turning my head towards the rock, I noticed the warmth drying my nose. Could it be the rock was slowly heating?

With my curiosity ignited, I dared crawl forward until I was next to Wellard's slippered feet. At the corner of my sensitive eyes, I spied a flicker of dim light and not the sunset glow of the flaming torches. This light was a true milky white. I was too small to see what was happening upon the rock, where the two apostles laid their hands, but whatever was happening involved magic.

The apostles wielded magic—perhaps only rudimentary at best, but magic nonetheless; the air was imbued with its distinctive aroma. Although the Razohan did not wield magic, my time spent with Romelda allowed me to witness her craft and recognize the smell. I doubted the apostles were natural-born magic wielders, suspecting instead that their abilities might have been gained through centuries of managing and studying the vast collections in their library. However, I had never heard of such a phenomenon occurring before.

I was profoundly curious about their intent. Did they hope to tap into some residual dormant magic within the Bone Throne, if such a thing even existed? The apostles were a great puzzle, far more interesting than I had initially surmised when I assumed the form of Petrulus on my first visit to Emberforge. As a peripheral member of the rebellion within the apostles, he had given me little valuable information about them. I now regretted not taking the soul of someone more deeply embedded in this rebel faction .

For a moment, I pondered their reaction if I revealed myself to them, then pushed the thought aside. They would see me as a direct rival, Tressya's nemesis. But if I could convince them that Tressya and I were united in our fight against the Salmun—which we might not be—would they help guide me to the Senjel Oracles? Time was my true enemy, and a simple path to the Oracles would be invaluable.

The sound of running feet, heading toward the throne room, silenced their chants.

"We're caught," Wellard shrieked.

I had to be quick to dodge Wellard's feet as Plesy dragged him up. "Don't be a fool. It's not the Salmun. Though they're likely the reason for the haste."

The heavy doors creaked open.

"Plesy, the Salmun have arrived," someone yelled from across the room—another member of the rebel group.

Plesy grabbed Wellard's cloak and pulled him around. "We were so close," he grumbled.

"No time now," Wellard said. "We have to get out of here."

Curses they were disturbed. I was curious to discover what it was they almost achieved. While they hurried from the throne room, I scaled to the top of the rock and sniffed my way to the spot where both had held their hands.

The rock still held the warmth of more than their hands. The tiny pads on my feet grew almost too hot, but I resisted scuttling away. Instead, I tuned into the faint pulse of energy now tickling up my legs. Magic.

Either the apostles' magic was weak or far greater magic protected the rock: Salmun magic. What would the Salmun want to conceal? I had no time to contemplate this before others entered the room.

The throne room door burst open. From between the throne's legs, I saw Tressya. The first time in too long, and it left me reeling. Could it be possible she'd grown more beautiful during our separation?

Whether by her choice, she'd shed her dowdy fashion and was dressed in the splendor of Tarragona's finest fashionable gowns. The deep green of the fabric contrasted against her brilliant blue eyes. The gown of silk and lace, cinched at the waist, disguised nothing of her lithe frame. She was small and lacking the muscle I usually found so attractive, but she made up for that in the agile way she moved her body and the cunning of her mind.

It was totally inappropriate for me to think on all the other ways she knew how to move her body when the Salmun had entered the room with her, but damn if my eyes wouldn't leave her, and I couldn't stop my thoughts straying to our night spent together.

You're still poison for me. The perfect poison for me.

I shuffled back into the shadow cast by the legs of the throne. The faint pulse of the residual energy still tickled and warmed the hairs on my belly; irritating, but I couldn't afford to move about else I might draw the Salmun's attention. It wasn't in my nature to hide, but the Salmun would have means of ridding pests with a wave of one finger.

Tressya's stride faltered as her left arm twitched. Her eyes briefly flared, and she glanced around the room.

She knew I was here. My mark would give me away. But I was safe as long as I stayed still and no one went poking underneath the throne, and I wasn't sure how she'd react to our first meeting. Regardless of my craving to speak with her, I had to remember Romelda's warning. Tressya had called for the Mother. I was uncertain of her allegiance—had she returned to the Sistern? Yet, there was a method to uncover the truth.

Curses. I would never breach the soul vow merely for clarity. Having bonded my soul to hers, there was a deep yearning within me for our souls to merge, our bodies likewise—in a more primal way. However, I couldn't act on these desires until she made the choice to reciprocate, to accept my blood and unite us in an unbreakable bond.

"This way, Your Majesty." The Salmun nodded his head, showing as much respect to the queen as he thought she deserved, but Tressya appeared not to hear him.

And where was the Mother? I'd seen her enter the carriage with Tressya. At some point, between Emberfell and Emberforge, they seemed to have lost her.

"I wish to be alone." There was no authority in her voice.

"Your Majesty, I don't understand."

"It's quite simple. I wish to be left alone."

"In the throne room, Your Majesty?"

"Give me time."

"May I ask why?"

"Why am I forced to explain myself?" There was sudden grit to her tone. "I want solitude to contemplate my fate. And the Bone Throne is very much a part of my fate, or so you've led me to believe. And since you've avoided my questions regarding anything to do with the throne, particularly the Etherweave, I believe it's fair you at least grant me this one wish."

"It's understandable Your Majesty would find my silence in such matters frustrating."

"I've presented the list of those I've selected to sit upon the queen's council. They'll arrive in Emberfell by the end of the week in time for the convening of the first council. What else are you waiting for?"

"Your grief, Your Majesty. You lost those precious to you. We're simply giving Your Majesty time to adjust."

"Cut the shit, Orphus. Your silence suits your purposes only. If you were so worried about my grief, you wouldn't hesitate to grant me this one wish."

Was it possible I would find new uncovered parts of her to love? The queen was finding her voice, and I loved it.

"Of course, Your Majesty. There is no question of granting you time in the presence of the Bone Throne. If you promise me not to sit upon it."

Tressya fixed Orphus with a quizzical look for several moments, her expression one of puzzlement. "That's an odd request."

"Not odd, Your Majesty. I'm only thinking of your protection."

She glanced at the throne. "Are you superstitious, Orphus? Do you think the bones will come to life and strangle me?"

"No, my queen. But the Bone Throne is a relic of a turbulent past when dangerous powers were alive in the world. It's a caution, Your Majesty."

Her refusal to yield to the Salmun was admirable, but his concern about the Bone Throne was confusing, unless it was as the Eone had forewarned and the Salmun knew. The ache in my head was bound to worsen as I tried to discern the truth from the lies given many intended to control whoever sat on the Bone Throne.

I couldn't read the snake's eyes with his hood drawn low on his forehead, concealing his face. If I could, I'd know where his true intentions lay, though I would guess they weren't respectful, honorable or loyal to the crown.

"Very well. I give you my word. And now I want my solitude."

Orphus inclined his head. "We can spare some time before the ritual begins. I shall wait by the door."

"There is but one definition of solitude." Tressya didn't even bother to glance in his direction.

If I was a man, I'd reveal my presence by chuckling.

"Your Majesty is wise," was all Orphus said.

"Make sure my spiritual advisor also respects my privacy."

"She shall not pass." And with that, Orphus departed.

Spiritual advisor. For someone of the Mother's power, it was a belittling position, and I couldn't help but smile at the irony. She had to be somewhere within Emberforge, yet her absence from Tressya's side was peculiar, unless the Salmun had barred her from entering the throne room.

When the door to the throne room closed, Tressya released a sigh, then turned toward the throne. Eager as I was to speak with her, it took effort to stay where I was, and not transform back into a man. But I needed to satisfy my curiosity .

Why did Tressya want to be alone? Did it have something to do with the two apostles, and what they were doing behind the throne?

Tressya strode toward the dais. She hitched her skirts and leaped upon the rock, as agile as a predator. Yards and yards of fabric to tumble on and slow her down, I couldn't imagine it was easy. The way she moved momentarily distracted me from my curiosity about why she sought solitude, leading me to ponder something else entirely. Could it be possible Tressya was gaining the traits of a Razohan?

No sooner had I thought the question than I was seized by my tail and dangled in front of Tressya's eyes.

"I never dreamed our first meeting would be like this. And if you dare think to bite me, I'll put you under my heel."

She was, as ever, breathtaking in her guile. I released my hold on my rodent form, maneuvering myself as I transformed into a man so that I landed in her lap. "I knew you'd be pleased."

Tressya shoved me off her lap. I relented, catching my balance and landing feet first on the stone floor.

It seemed neither of us had words for this moment, and I was content to stare at her face through my eyes, and not that of the rodent, for as long as she would let me. I wasn't sure if she consciously sucked on her lower lip, but doing so distracted me by kindling a desire that never grew dormant.

"You've just arrived, and you came straight to Emberforge." She relaxed back into the throne, crossing her legs with the air of someone in repose, but her accusatory tone revealed her emotions. Dare I believe she would have preferred me to visit her first.

"What makes you think I've just arrived?"

"Are the Razohan known for their rotten memories?"

"The bite mark." I nodded in understanding.

Bonded partners, through their shared blood links, could effortlessly track each other, yet Tressya had not accepted my blood. Had she sensed my return to Tolum the instant it happened? For anyone else, I would deem it impossible. Even if my mark on her revealed my presence in the throne room, it wasn't potent enough to disclose my exact location within Tolum. Only fully bonded partners attained such a profound connection. But Tressya was extraordinary in the most charming ways, and it wouldn't surprise me if she had developed some Razohan ability surpassing our own.

"You promised me I wouldn't turn into a beast."

I folded my arms across my chest. "If you are, it has nothing to do with me."

"I snarl, for mercy's sake."

"You realize that's a love poem to a Razohan."

She sucked in a breath. "I have no intention of wooing you. And if I sprout fur, I'll gut you."

"Surely your Mother shared your heritage with you."

"Under duress and with limited details. Needless to say, I was horrified."

"There's nothing to be horrified about, Tress?—"

"Your Majesty."

"Thanks, but I don't deserve the title just yet."

She rolled her eyes.

"I'll teach you all there is to know about becoming a Razohan. The Salmun and your Mother won't understand what it means to become a shapeshifter, they won't understand the changes?—"

"And you understand what it is like for someone like me?"

"Considering that's my nature."

"You were born a Razohan, of course you do. But I grew up believing I was human. How can you understand what it means for a human to turn into a beast?"

"You must feel stronger and faster than you ever have. Isn't that worth something?"

She tilted her head up, seeming to ponder my question. "There's that." And her lips twitched, before she glanced off to the side with a frown.

I followed her gaze and saw nothing that would make her frown. She straightened in her seat as if trying to shrug what had bothered her, then she rose from the throne and jumped lightly down off the dais as if she wasn't lumbered with reams of clothing. That was something she wouldn't have been able to do without tripping over her hem if not for the Razohan's blood in her veins.

"We're out of time, Razohan. Orphus will be back soon, and we're gathering a crowd."

My brows rose. "We're what?"

"It's a quirk of mine you'll never have."

"I'm confused."

"Yes, you were never bright."

I lurched forward, seized her arm and pulled her close—at least my speed still surprised her, giving her no time to dodge or squirm away. Unless I'd misread her soft gasp and the slight part of her lips, I'd subdued her outrage at being manhandled.

"We need to talk." And I need to kiss you. "But not yet." On both accounts.

She still smelt so good, fresh, sweet and with a hint of the fire that I knew ran through her veins.

"I agree," Tressya said.

I required time to discern her allegiance before disclosing too much. With that consideration, my yearning for an intimate connection with her intensified, yet I restrained myself, pulling back from inquisitively probing her emotions before delving too deeply. "Is there a time when you're alone?"

"Unless you're planning on entering my bedchamber. No."

"Your bedchamber it is then."

She leveled her stern gaze at me. "Don't even think about entering as a rodent."

"I'm glad that's the only thing in this conversation that concerns you."

Weeks apart, yet we effortlessly slipped back into our familiar conversational rhythm; I hadn't realized how much I missed it.

"I have means of dealing with any surprises."

"I would have been disappointed if you didn't." My traitorous eyes wandered to her lips.

Strangely, Tressya's attention seemed to be drawn off to the side of the room once again, though I knew there was no one there. She remained the enigma. That thought circled my mind to the dangerous mysteries of the Eone. "Have you had any bizarre dreams of late? "

"I haven't dreamed of you once."

"I'm sure that's a lie. What about anyone else? A group of four, perhaps?"

"You're weird."

"Is that a no?"

"I'll likely suffer nightmares tonight now I know you're back. Is that good enough?"

Why should I expect a straightforward answer to my questions when she had never provided one before? She would remain frustratingly obstinate as much as she was addictively alluring.

I smirked. "I see the Mother hasn't softened your demeanor."

She struggled out of my embrace, but I tightened my hold. She swallowed, her eyes blazing blue like the sky on fire.

"I'd argue against that. I can't think of any important reason for you to know my fantasies."

I flicked the tip of her nose. "I only asked for dreams. It's you who thought of fantasies. Perhaps when I come to your?—"

She shoved me in the chest, pressing her lips to hide her smile. I resisted her escape.

"You're wrong about me." I lowered my head, coming in close. "I reached Emberfell first, in time to see you enter the carriage beside a crow of an old woman who turned out to be the Mother Divine. I followed for a while, but once I knew for certain where you were heading, I came direct. This meeting was not entirely by chance. Where's your Mother Divine, by the way? "

"You do nothing by chance. And the Mother is none of your concern."

"Neither do I ask questions without a good reason. And she's a blade that needs blunting."

"Your reasons are your own and have no influence on my decisions or actions. And the Mother is currently entertained by the Salmun elsewhere in Emberforge."

"Wise of the Salmun not to trust her. She must prickle with such a demeaning rank."

"Such trivial matters do not distract the Mother."

"I know you're no longer loyal to the Sistern, so stop defending her." A sting laced my voice, my annoyance sharpened at her continued pretense of caring about the Sistern. But maybe Romelda was right, and Tressya had returned to the stronghold of her former order.

She leaned in closer, tilting her chin up, locking her eyes on mine. I swear I couldn't look away if I tried.

"I won the war. How's that for loyalty?"

I flinched at the reminder. "You fought for Andriet alone." Please let me be right.

She swallowed, blinked, then turned away.

"I'm sorry. In the end, I didn't intend for him to die."

I resisted hauling her close when she backed away. This was the wrong place and the wrong time to have the difficult conversation we needed to share—no breaking the soul vow. Tressya and I were equals, both destined to sit upon the Bone Throne and wield the Etherweave. I yearned for a deeper connection, but for now, we needed to compromise, and that could only be achieved with honesty, which required trust, and I doubted she was ready for the vulnerability trust required. Neither was I.

There was a curious glint in her eye when she returned her attention to me. "Do you believe Orphus's excuse to keep me from sitting on the throne?"

The change in conversation jarred me. I thought I'd wounded her by mentioning Andriet, yet I'd done the opposite, enlivening her astute mind. Unfortunately, it wasn't a question I could answer right now.

"In all honesty, I don't know."

"You're not normal by any means, but you sat upon it once."

"Is that your best compliment?"

Ignoring my attempt to ease the conversation in a different direction, she continued. "Why would he say such a thing? It's a pile of bones."

"Magic is never just a pile of bones. If you haven't come to sit on the throne, why has Orphus brought you here?"

"You've only just arrived on my soil, and you're already demanding answers," she snapped. "Since when have I had to answer to Tarragona's foe?"

I tried to keep my expression neutral, even though her words felt like a slap to my face. "Foe, is it now?"

Dare I believe she looked abashed? She was definitely at a loss for words. Perhaps the first time I'd ever seen her fall silent. She turned away from me, taking a deep breath. I watched the small crease in her brow deepen and could almost hear the thoughts whirring in her mind. Finally, she returned her gaze to me. "I don't know. Are you?"

I stared deeply into her eyes, unable to voice the words I dearly wanted to say. I'll never be your foe. That was the truth in my heart, but did she carry the same conviction? Was the Mother her anchor, the Salmun her guiding force?

Our eyes became our tethers, binding us together as we searched deep within, hoping to discover the truth we both hesitated to voice. I was acutely aware I hadn't answered her question. She once knew my answer; I wanted her to remember, to see it in my eyes.

The longer we held each other's gaze, the softer her expression became. In that moment, I realized I hadn't lost her completely. My fingers twitched with the urge to smooth her brow. I'd come for the Senjel Oracles, to save my people and the realm, but mostly, I'd come for her. I'd always believed this was our journey, that my foes were her foes, and that unity was our only path to success. I sincerely hoped she believed that, too.

It was Tressya who broke our gaze first. She clenched her fists beside her. "I'm sick of the Salmun keeping their secrets."

I understood why she broke the spell between us. The moment had become too intimate for two people on opposing sides, whom everyone said were adversaries. The last we saw each other, I was waging war on her people, and she was defeating me.

"They've told you nothing about the Bone Throne or the Etherweave? What about your Mother? She must know a thing or twenty, since she went to all this bother to place you on the throne."

"Talking to the Mother is like talking to stone."

I loved that she so easily confided in me, something usually reserved for friends, family and lovers. I cherished this glimpse of vulnerability, a conspiratorial moment that could only bring us closer.

"Sounds like there's a disgruntled chick within the nest."

Tressya reared on me. "And you're no better. You felt something when you sat on that throne. I know you did. But you keep quiet."

"Do you trust me?" Perhaps it was too early in my return to ask this question. I couldn't hardly expect a truthful answer. But this was pivotal.

She blinked, then snapped. "What?"

"It's a simple question."

She folded her arms across her chest in a defensive pose. "You never give me straight answers."

"Touché. But I'm asking in all sincerity. Do. You. Trust. Me."

She blinked again, then sucked in a long breath. "I ask the same of you."

I was surprised by how much it hurt that she refused to answer. "Then we have a problem." Maybe I was being childish, playing her game and hiding my true feelings. A lot was at stake. All it would take was... I stepped back, half turning away from her, exhaling deeply. No, I couldn't break the soul vow and force my way inside to learn her true feelings toward me.

She dipped her head, avoiding my gaze, but relaxed her arms to her sides. "I'm a queen in a foreign realm with no idea how to survive the challenges of my throne." She spoke in a low and measured tone. "Then there is this." She waved her hand toward the Bone Throne. "I'm expected to rule from the Bone Throne when I don't understand what that means, and no one can or will inform me."

That was why she called for her Mother. It had to be. She was drowning in a realm where she had no allies, and the only person she could trust was the woman who'd taught her from birth to be strong. My heart lightened with the thought.

Instinct drove me forward, a yearning to hold her close, reassure her she was not alone. The Salmun, the Mother, the Eone all hoped to control the ruler of the Bone Throne using whatever magical and vile means possible. But Tressya was not alone. Hers and my fates were linked. I wanted her to know that. That together we would survive a destiny neither of us chose.

But I was too late. With the sound of the door handle turning, I transformed back into a rodent and scuttled behind Tressya's ample skirts.

"Orphus," Tressya almost shouted. "As you can see, I've barely moved. And you'll be interested to know I don't dream. At least nothing I remember."

I disappeared into the shadows of the dais, sneezing chuckles as I went. I'd missed my opportunity to gather the keys from one of the three who guarded the sanctum of solmira, but something told me learning the reason the Salmun brought Tressya into the throne room would be of greater value.