Chapter 8

Chapter

Eight

TRESSYA

Walking beside me, the Mother gave me little room, as if she expected me to disappear if she didn't keep close. The rustle of her skirts sent prickles along my arms like tiny creatures crawling across my skin. It was either her proximity that plucked and pulled at the fine hairs on my neck or a sense that someone lurked behind us. But when I glanced around, there was no one there.

Orphus had refused the Mother entry into Emberforge, claiming only royalty and its immediate bloodline were allowed. We'd argued for hours, Andriet adding his voice to the debate, which muddled my head until I surprised everyone by shouting. In the end, I got my way.

Entering Emberforge was the Mother's idea, keen as she was to see the Bone Throne for herself. I was also eager to see it again, minus the entourage, but the Salmun acted predatory toward the temple. No one entered, not even the queen, unless escorted by one of the Salmun. Hopefully, I could escape them all for some solitude with the spirits. King Ricaud was the real reason I was eager to come. I needed answers to my many questions, and he was the one person who could reveal all about the Etherweave.

The Mother held her normally lithe and agile body erect and taut. The tension emanating from her seized my throat in a stranglehold. Her smoldering fury at the silence and subservience she was forced to keep felt like a furnace, and I continued to relish her predicament.

Once we were alone, she compensated for her public composure by adopting Radnisa's cruel taunts. She had never been one for kindness or compliments; now, she became openly spiteful and antagonistic. I excused Radnisa's acidic words, believing she was born spiteful, but the Mother's venom I questioned as fear.

Our relationship had definitely taken a downward turn after I'd snarled like a feral beast through half of the combat training yesterday while defeating two of Tarragona's best warriors. Anticipating the delightful spectacle of my defeat, she was instead made to witness my unexpected ascent. The hard set of her features, like storm clouds threatening rain, told me she was less than pleased I had won.

In private, she demanded I complete the most menial tasks for her, including soaping her back in the evenings and spreading out her night attire while she soaked in her bath. But while I gathered her discarded clothes from the floor and arranged her nightgown out on the bed, I smiled to myself, knowing the Mother was now forced to confront the outcome of her scheming—the woman I had become. I could only imagine the taste it left in her mouth.

The little peace she could claim was in believing she had mastery over my soul word. That I knew my shield against soul voice was my greatest secret; along with this other mysterious existence growing inside of me. The Mother had no idea Tamas had bitten me, had claimed me as his bonded partner. It was a secret I would keep from her at all costs: my very special secret.

Once again, thoughts of him flared sudden tingles around the bite mark, pleasurable tingles. I closed my eyes, arched my head back, feeling his presence, his hands on my body, his lips on my skin. I was back in his tent, on the cusp of war, taking what I needed, delighting in what he gave, savoring that one moment when I spread my wings.

My body ached with grief for what it had to endure; a coldness where there had been warmth, an emptiness where there had been loving hands and a loving mouth, teasing and caressing me until I couldn't breathe and only saw stars, until the ecstasy stripped my strength, leaving me vulnerable, raw and needing, needing Tamas like I needed air.

I smothered the mournful moan that escaped my lips, unconscious I'd stopped.

"Your Majesty?" Orphus's voice slithered over my shoulders like a snake.

"I'm fine." I walked on, keeping my gaze fixed on the pylons ahead, avoiding the Mother's glare, which felt like snakes piercing fangs into the side of my head.

Again, that irritating niggle ran across the back of my neck. I gave in and glanced one more time, then cursed myself for feeling so jumpy. It had to be because of the Mother. My nerves were suffering from spending this much time in her presence.

Our footsteps echoed across the vast opening of the Arunian Hall as we passed through the pylons and into the temple sanctuary. Moving further inside, again my steps faltered, plagued as I was with indelible memories of Tamas coaxing me further into the temple sanctuary.

Tamas, where are you?

Instinctively, I reached for Carlin's necklace, only to remember I'd lost it in the cave with Tamas. This realization added another memory to the collection associated with him. Struggling for a deep breath, the feeling of entrapment engulfed me. I'd spent scant moments with Tamas, yet it appeared he had been the pivotal figure in my existence, given how memories of him filled my mind.

I jerked my arm away at the feeling of the Mother's gentle touch. "I'm sorry," I uttered. My head was a muddle.

"We should keep walking." And I strode on, unable to look at the Mother.

Two apostles stood beside the pylon and bowed as I passed into the inner temple sanctuary, a realm of deepening gloom with its labyrinth of smaller temples dedicated to long-forgotten deities. I slowed as I passed them, scrutinizing each, but neither was Selisimus.

The key to the dungeon library that Tamas had stolen belonged to Selisimus, and there was at least one other, Tortilus, who also possessed a key to the library. If both owned keys, then perhaps they knew about the contents inside the library. Maybe they could assist me in discovering what it was Tamas was searching for. To find out, I'd have to rid myself of my escort, then hunt Selisimus down. But perhaps that would have to wait for another time.

Orphus picked up his pace to move alongside me. "Pardon, Your Majesty, shall I lead the way?"

I slipped aside, creating as much distance as I could between us. Orphus showed no sign of noticing. He simply waited in silence, his face perpetually covered by his gray hood—thank the stars. The thought of seeing his eyes made my stomach curl in on itself.

"Yes, of course." No one knew I'd entered Emberforge with Tamas, that I'd already seen the Bone Throne, so I gestured for him to keep walking.

This time I wasn't quick enough to turn my head from the Mother's glare. She arched a smooth brow when she caught my eyes. Damn her shrewd perceptiveness. She knew something was off with me.

Orphus guided us through a maze of narrow corridors, past empty temples and shadowed alcoves, trailing a chilled silence behind us. The Mother's footsteps gradually quickened, outpacing mine. Her eagerness to see the Bone Throne was palpable, even though it wasn't her right to sit upon it. I attempted to remain inconspicuous as I stole furtive glances at her profile, noticing her eyes intently fixed on the dimly lit corridor ahead. Normally alert to her surroundings, I was sure she was blind to my presence beside her with the Bone Throne so near.

The straight, sharp line of her nose was like a blade, cutting a harshness to her features. A sudden, intense hatred flared in my heart for the woman who had taught me how to survive. She'd risen me above my sisters for her own gain. In her eyes, I was merely a valuable possession, the sole person capable of aiding her in attaining her true ambition.

The hatred only intensified, burning within me like a glowing poker as I reflected on the intricate manipulations of the previous leaders of the Sistern, whose role the Mother had assumed, just so I could be here today. For generations, women in my lineage were strategically matched with suitable men, all to ensure I would eventually take my place on the Bone Throne. How many generations ago had it been since a disciple ventured into the northern lands and seduced a Razohan? If, as many had always believed, there was only one bloodborn, how did the Sistern determine which Razohan would father the child that would start the long line of generations leading to me, the second bloodborn? Was augury involved in their choice of the right Razohan partner, or did they use other means I couldn't fathom? The depth of the Sistern's scheming was beyond my comprehension.

"Perhaps it is time for some answers." With Orphus present, now was a terrible time for this conversation, and the words escaped me in a harsher tone than intended, and it was too late to take them back.

I wasn't expecting her to stop. I glanced ahead to see Orphus turn.

"Is something the matter, Your Majesty?"

"No. You may go ahead. I wish to speak with my spiritual advisor before we enter the throne room." I tried to keep the command in my tone, though I was sure he heard the faint quiver in my voice .

I'd never meant for this conversation to be antagonistic. I blamed the anger, like fire in my veins, which had vanished the moment the Mother faced me. Eager as I was to hear the truth about my heritage, I'd yet to find the courage to confront the Mother. Now I had no choice.

She fixed her venomous gaze on me, and it shocked me to see the extent of her fury laid so openly bare. We had ventured deep into the inner sanctum, where the only light came from flickering torches, casting shadows that masked our features. Yet, no amount of darkness could conceal the Mother's intense glower.

"Your Majesty?—"

"Orphus, please. Just give me a minute." My nerves were jangling.

Although my mind screamed for me to instruct Orphus to lead us to the throne room, to escape the Mother's wrath, I couldn't yield to cowardice. To repeat Andriet's mantra, it was time I acted as queen. I should demand more of myself, and I was certain Andriet would agree any moment was an excellent chance to assert my authority over the Mother.

I was determined to extract what I needed from her: the discipline and strength honed through her rigorous training, the insights on how to rule. But as queen, it was imperative I surpassed my creator. I had to prevent her from using me to seize control of the Bone Throne's power for herself.

Orphus's gaze flittered between us both.

"Leave," I shouted at him, unable to keep my calm.

"Very well." He inclined his head, bending ever so slightly into a stiff bow, but the way his head shifted to the Mother, I knew he blamed her for my sudden dark mood. I couldn't see his eyes, but I was sure they were sharp as daggers.

I turned my back on him, staring at the stone floor, listening to his footsteps move further into the sanctuary. Once I could no longer hear him, I lifted my eyes to the Mother.

"I want to know my heritage. That's all."

The Mother knew of my bloodlink to the Razohan. She knew every disciple's heritage, something of prime importance to every Divine Mother. Apparently, within the library at the temple of the Divine Order, you could find scroll after scroll containing every lineage of every disciple since the order began, almost a millennium ago. But if my heritage was from the Razohan line, why could I not shapeshift like Tamas?

She pressed her lips together, deepening the lines above her upper lip.

Breaths passed. I felt sure she wouldn't answer me, but then she spoke. "You dare give me an order."

"No. I'm asking, not ordering. I think it's only fair." I cupped my hands to steady the tremor and rested them in front of my skirts.

The Mother lifted her chin. "You know more than you need to know."

I wouldn't let the conversation end there. "That I'm… is my bloodline from the beast-born of the north?"

"What would make you suspect that?" Her words were ice shards falling from a storm ladened sky.

"An augur spoke of it."

The poor light couldn't conceal the sudden flare of her eyes.

"I deserve the truth of my heritage."

The Mother moved so suddenly, I couldn't catch my breath. There was a sudden jolt in the back of my legs, and I went down, spearing a sharp pain in my knees as they hit the stone floor. The Mother's arm was around my throat in a tight hold that prevented me from taking a breath as she wielded a blade in front of my face. "As a bastard child, you deserve nothing," she hissed in my ear.

Slowly she feathered the blade across my cheek, holding back from cutting my skin. "How eager you are to forget the pillars and leave the Sistern behind you."

"No—" I could hardly get the word out before she tightened her hold.

"You're queen because of me." Her warm breath blew strands across my cheek and tickled my ear. "I gave you everything," she spat. "Yet at the first glimpse of power, you turned your back on your sisters."

I shook my head, then stilled the moment I felt the sharp edge of the blade dig into my chin. I couldn't take a breath around the Mother's choke hold, and she didn't appear willing to relent her hold.

"Your disdain for me will be your end."

She pushed the tip of the blade into the soft skin behind my ear. I felt it like a nail being slowly worked through the side of my neck. "How many lies have you told me? How many secrets do you keep, you filthy bastard child?" The blade drove deeper, lengthening the cut. "Which part about your mother do you want to hear? That she gladly surrendered you to me, eager for her arms to be rid of you. You were weak and sickly at birth, a disgrace to the Sistern. She was ashamed at birthing such a thing."

Jealousy and fury fashioned her words. She could say anything, and I had no way of knowing the truth.

"Your soul word is on the tip of my tongue."

Discipline .

I could summon King Ricaud and his deceased soldiers, commanding them to wrench her away from me. Alternatively, I could tap into the raw, captivating savagery I experienced in battle against the warriors, harnessing that agility, strength, and cunning to make her rue her actions. But as queen, I had to be smart. There were too many I couldn't trust, more I would likely have to fight. Now was not the time to start with the one woman who could further my training, hone me into the weapon I needed to be. Besides, she was unaware of my true strength; she underestimated my power. The Mother had yet to comprehend the full magnitude of what she'd created. And I wished to keep it that way for now.

Instead, I did what I always did. I stayed silent, let her venomous words wash over me while I fought to find my calming breaths, knowing the Mother wouldn't keep me like this for much longer. Orphus would return soon, and she wouldn't dare risk exposing her true identity.

I waited, trying to gasp in what breaths I could while focusing on the piercing pain of the blade and my wild heartbeat. The Mother would say every moment was the perfect occasion for practice, so I opened myself to the pain, allowed it to infect my mind, and absorbed the lesson she taught: mastery over fear and pain .

Careful, Mother, for you're only strengthening me.

I caught a flicker of movement in my periphery but was unable to turn my head to see who it was. Perhaps it was one of King Ricaud's soldier spirits, or maybe the king himself, though I doubted the king would remain in the shadows.

As I expected, she kept her suffocating hold for one beat longer before releasing me on the smack of Orphus's boots coming toward us.

Once she stepped away, I rose, ungainly, fumbling to find my feet amongst the layers of my skirts. On my feet, I glanced toward the movement, but only saw dancing shadows cast by the gentle flickering torches.

The Mother shoved a kerchief in my hand and gripped tight, jerking me close. "You're a fool to think your soul word is my only weapon."

She shoved my hand away and turned toward Orphus's approach.

I wiped the trickling blood from my neck, then pressed the cloth to the wound as Orphus came into view, my mind a dizzy mess pondering on what she said. Of course, the Mother would be smarter than to leave my soul word as her only means of controlling me. My hand jerked up, following the urge to touch my old wound, the entry point for the black oily mist she'd placed inside of me, but I stopped myself before my hand made it halfway.

I'd never questioned how the Mother could do what she did to me when such a thing required magic. I simply accepted what she'd done, like any good disciple would, believing it was for the good of the Sistern, my sisters. Radnisa would argue, what benefited the Mother benefited the Sistern. Months ago, and I would have agreed. But too much had changed; I had changed.

Damn her conniving ways. I was her instrument, with no way free.

At first, Orphus was nothing more than a dark shape skulking in the shadows. By the time I could see him clearly, I'd stuffed the kerchief into my pocket and walked to meet him.

I waited until he stood in front of me. "You may take the Mo—take her to the throne room. I want a minute alone."

"Your Majesty, this cannot be done. I acquiesced to your demand she attend Emberforge with you, but she shall not enter the throne room alone."

I glared at Orphus. "Then take her to the door and wait for me."

"This is a most unusual request."

"It's not a request. I wish for a few moments alone… In here," I indicated the small sanctum behind us, shrouded in darkness, except for a weak candle flame resting on the altar at the front of the room.

"For what, may I ask?" There was a deeper question Orphus didn't voice.

"I shall wait with you," interrupted the Mother.

I kept my gaze on Orphus, ignoring the Mother. "The both of you will do as I say."

I looked to the Mother. "You'll wait for me in the corridor, outside the throne room."

She jerked her chin up with as much defiance as she dared, then strode past me.

"Thank you for this." I'd taken the kerchief from my pocket and offered it to her as she passed. "It's no longer needed." I'd scrunched it in my hand, so Orphus wouldn't see the smears of blood.

A muscle twitched in her jaw, but I held her stoney gaze. "And thanks for answering my question. I take your answer as a yes." My heritage was with the beast-born of the north.

Her eyes narrowed, but I turned away, giving her my back.

"This way," Orphus intoned from behind me.

The temple was tiny, with a small altar of stone at the front and two rows of pews either side, enough for a handful of worshipers. I waited, staring at the candle flame as Orphus led the Mother away.

It surprised me Orphus had yielded to my command. Commands were what a queen gave, and I'd not overstepped my bounds, at least not yet.

"You can come out now." I wasn't sure who I would encounter, but ever since entering Emberforge, the subtle movements I'd caught in my periphery assured me that someone was here—not a spirit, as they invoked a distinct sensation.

I waited, attuned to the soft shuffle of slippered feet, reminiscent of a doe's cautious steps. Gradually, I turned to see a tall, lean apostle with a gaunt face and a shaved head enter the temple. The candle's flame flickered in his eyes. Then, he leaned forward into a deep bow, remaining in that position for three breaths before rising before me.

"Your Majesty, forgive me. I didn't mean to intrude on your solitude. If you wish to be alone…" He half turned, jerking his thumb in the direction he'd come .

"Why would I want you to leave when I've been waiting for you?"

"Yo…you were? Forgive me." He bowed again. "It's just that…Your Majesty. I wasn't following. I was?—"

I sighed, not yet used to the way some people fell to pieces when in the presence of royalty. "Relax. I'm not going to cut off your head." I headed to the left row of pews and eased down on the hard stone bench.

"I'm glad you've found me." Once I'd fidgeted and made myself comfortable, I patted a place beside me.

He watched me pat the stone, his mouth agape, but made no move to come closer, as if his legs were carved from stone.

"I want to have a little chat, and I'd feel more comfortable if I didn't have to look up at you all the time."

"Of course, Your Majesty."

I smelt the oily blend of pressed herbs mingled with the scent of burned candle wax as he slid down onto the very edge of the pew, maintaining a distance of at least three bodies' length between us. He reminded me of a mouse caught in the open with a predator lurking nearby.

"What's your name?" I said.

"Plesy, Your Majesty."

"You can drop the title."

"Yes, Your—If you wish… I didn't intend to take offense."

I arched my head back and stared up at the wood beams crisscrossing the roof of the temple. "Relax, Plesy. It's just you and me. We'll get nowhere if you keep stumbling over your words. The Salmun won't stay away forever, and I've a lot of questions for you. For starters, why were you following us?"

His eyes flared wide. "I wasn't, Your—I'm sorry. It's hard to—But I wasn't."

The poor agitated man seemed about to leap from the pew and scuttle away.

"I've disturbed you, and I'm sorry. But I was curious. That's all. There's been rumors about you, and I was curious. They didn't say you were so young." His mouth sagged in astonishment. "I'm sorry, Your Ma—" He clawed his hands down his scalp, perhaps forgetting he no longer had hair. "I should go." He leapt up.

"No, don't," I shouted, then sucked in my voice. Curses that was loud and would likely draw Orphus back.

Plesy remained hunched, as though expecting a blow.

"Just sit down," I sighed. "Please. I won't hurt you."

"But the Salmun," he squeaked.

"Yes," I drawled. "They are a problem. But if you stop apologizing all the time and answer my questions, you can disappear back from where you came before Orphus returns. Now sit."

Plesy eased himself back down on the edge of the pew, keeping his shoulders hunched, looking as though he would peel forward and hit the floor at any moment.

"I'm sure many have spoken about me. How I survived the Ashenlands, defeated the northerners and returned as queen."

"There was never anything said about you defeating the northerners."

"Oh. That's all right. I was going to warn you not to believe all the rumors you hear. Are you curious how I became queen?"

I arched a brow, and he nodded. "Only one who can take the ancient power of the Etherweave can ascend to the Tarragonan throne. The Salmun would not accept them otherwise, which would make you a descendant of the House of Tannard." There was a hint of awe in his voice.

"True." But not in the way he thought my heritage was linked.

"And you're a woman." He ducked his head. "I'm sorry, Your—I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be rude, it's just."

"There has never been a queen on the Tarragonan throne before."

"Yes. Which means the Salmun were desperate." His eyes widened in horror. "That was also not said to be rude."

"Relax, Plesy. I understand. And yes, I am the only heir left capable of wielding the Etherweave. Let's move on with my questions. I want you to tell me everything you know about the Etherweave."

"Now?" Panicked raised his voice.

"You have a point. Maybe not now. But soon."

"Forgive me, Your Majesty..." He winced at his slip of the tongue before continuing. "This conversation won't be easy. The Salmun..."

"You can speak plainly."

His gaze flicked to mine. "You're a foreigner."

"Who knows little about the Salmun and the workings of Emberforge. Is that what you were about to say?"

He nodded slightly.

"Where does your true loyalty lie?" Was he merely a curious apostle, or was there a deeper reason he followed me through Emberforge?

"I'm sorry, Your—?" He paused, shaking his head in frustration.

How much should I reveal to him? "I need answers to questions that I cannot ask the Salmun. Do you understand?" My instincts assured me he was someone I could safely ask the questions I needed answered, beyond what the Salmun would tell me.

For the first time, he met my gaze and nodded, then leaned in closer. "There is a group of us within the apostles. Our loyalty... Let's just say it diverges from the Salmun's thoughts on the rule of Tarragona. On a lot of things."

"Then it's a good thing we've met." I frowned. "It's difficult for me to get inside Emberforge without the Salmun. And I'm sure they'll grow suspicious if I'm constantly asking to come back."

I launched to my feet and paced. "It's frustrating. Everyone expects me to be queen without telling me how to be one."

"Forgive me, Your Majesty—Sorry." Plesy hammered a fisted hand against his temple as he rose to join me. "It's a habit I can't stop. I don't suppose the Salmun expects you to know how to be a queen. It makes you reliant on them."

"That would be their plan. They can't have a queen with claws, now can they?" I didn't bother to keep the sarcasm from my voice. "Unfortunately, they don't realize I've already grown mine," I mumbled as I paced, speaking more to myself. "Then there's the Bone Throne. I'm sure they want me na?ve to the extent of the Etherweave's power. But I must know. And you must tell me about the Etherweave and how it's connected to the Bone Throne."

"Your Maj—Sorry. But you're wounded." For the first time, Plesy noticed the wound on my neck.

My hand came away smeared in blood, but I'd not felt the trickle running down the side of my neck because our conversation was more interesting.

"It's nothing," I bit out, not wanting any distractions, fighting against thoughts of Tamas and the bite mark he gave me on the ship. Then I groaned with annoyance when the tingles flared around the mark. This was not the right time to daydream about him.

Plesy was already bent over, tearing at the hem of his smock, renting the silence with a violent ripping noise that seemed to hang in the air long after he'd finished.

"What're you doing?"

"It's fresh on this morning. I washed it last night." He offered me a strip of material.

"Oh. Umm…thank you." I pressed the material to my neck, smelling the rich herb oils tinged with a stringent citrus odor. I huffed a breath to clear my thoughts and turned back to Plesy. "What's your place within the temple?" I eased myself back down onto the stone seat, Plesy joining me, though keeping a polite distance.

"I'm scribe master."

"What does that entail?"

"I translate the old teachings."

I suddenly sat straight, finding more interest in him. "That would mean you have access to the dungeon library and would know all the volumes within it. "

"Dungeon library? You mean the sanctum of solmira."

Such a fancy name for a dungeon.

"I can't claim to know all the works contained within. There is too much, and I have not been long in my position."

"What about Selisimus? Does he have anything to do with the sanctum of solmira?"

Plesy stared at me with an expression I could only read as admiration. "He's the scroll guardian."

It didn't sound like he would know a lot about the contents in the library. "But you both have keys?"

"And Tortilus, the lore keeper."

"Lore keeper. That sounds like he knows a lot about the teachings within the solmira."

"We all do…" He was likely about to use my title, but finished with a humble smile. "But there is much within we have yet to learn. Some works are so ancient, I've yet to devise a translation."

"What about anything around the time of the great war and King Ricaud?"

"Hmm… I can't say for sure. I've yet to come across any works regarding him. But Tortilus would know more." He leaned forward, casting a look over his shoulder as he did, hinting at a secret he wished to share. I, too, leaned close, hoping to encourage him.

"The Salmun have their own private library, filled with teachings they deem too sensitive for our eyes."

"Do you know where this library is?"

"Beneath the Bone Throne."

I sat back. "That makes access very difficult." Perhaps what Tamas sought was hidden within the Salmun' s library, something he'd not realized when he took Petrulus's form to enter Emberforge. Whatever teachings he'd sought would be connected to the Etherweave and the Bone Throne, which meant it was something I needed to find.

"You won't get in. Only the Salmun are allowed. They have their means of keeping everyone else out."

"And you have no idea what they keep in there?"

Again Plesy glanced over his shoulder, as if expecting to see the Salmun looming upon us. "Dark teachings."

I frowned, unsure if that was true or if Plesy believed it so because it added an enticing air of mystery and danger.

"The Salmun's links to the Throne of Tarragona stretch back as far as the great war. That's a millennium of time to search the realm, gathering all the ancient teachings and translating them for themselves. We have no idea what they have hidden to keep from our eyes. We've spent a great deal of time in the sanctum of solmira, but there's little we've learned from what they've left us about the Etherweave, or anything to do with the ancients responsible for its creation or that of the Bone Throne. We believe the Salmun kept all that knowledge for themselves."

"It keeps them relevant and ensures their presence as advisor to the ruler a necessity. But for how long? Surely once the ruler of the Bone Throne consumes the Etherweave, the Salmun will lose their authority or ability to control them?"

"Remember, they've had a millennium to work out a plan to ensure they never lose control."

I arched my head back, thinking on what he said. "You're right. That leaves me little time to work out a plan to ensure they never control me. I must get into their private library."

I also needed a plan to free myself from whatever schemes the Mother devised to keep me chained to her command.

"We'll help you. We may not have access to the Salmun's library, yet, but we are forever trying to find a way past their magic. And we're getting close. Besides, there is much we do know. And there is much the Salmun don't know about us. We've crafted our own lore, our own magic?—"

"Wait? Magic?!"

Plesy hushed me with a finger to his lips while he glanced around. "We aren't the first of our order to try. We're simply building on those apostles who've come before us. A millennium is a long time. Our secret order has roots spanning at least five hundred years, working in the shadows of the Salmun."

I studied him. I'd lived a court life long enough to detect liars and deceivers, and Plesy was not one of those. "Then it's very fortunate for me we've met."

He bowed. "No, Your Majesty, it's very fortunate for me. My brethren will be very keen to hear of our conversation."

He rose from his seat. "The Salmun must not catch me here with you. I fear they'll ask too many questions about our conversation."

"I'll find a way for us to meet again. Perhaps outside of Emberforge. It will be less suspicious."

"The apostles rarely leave Emberforge. This is our home, but it's not unheard of. We need fresh air and sun occasionally. But I'm curious how the queen will walk the streets of Tarragona without the Salmun's protection."

"Damn, you're right. Then I'll find a way to sneak into Emberforge."

Hearing the distant sound of heavy footsteps, Plesy bowed once more and was on the verge of slipping out of the temple when I posed another question.

"Are you aware of any spirits inhabiting Emberforge?"

From his position by the archway at the entrance to the small temple, his expression was indiscernible. "We have no magic to communicate with spirits."

I nodded, and he vanished into the darkened corridor. I may not get a chance to speak with King Ricaud's spirit, but I'd discovered equally valuable secrets today.