Vesryn grunted a noncommittal noise, shouldering open the Infirmary’s doors. Without the use of his power for once, since he’d recklessly exhausted his magic in the Hibernal Wastes.
Jassyn surveyed their surroundings, the late hour leaving the healing wing vacant. “The king locked away something important in the magister’s mind.” He gently closed the door so that it didn’t slam. “We need more allies.”
“Stars, fine,” Vesryn interjected when Jassyn drew in a breath. “You’ve made your point.”
Even though his cousin was wound more tightly than a coiled rope, Vesryn muttered his assurances to Jassyn that he’d calmed himself enough to regenerate. Leaving Jassyn to explain their intentions to the magister, the prince continued up to the roof to replenish his Well.
Really, the best way Vesryn can help is by making himself scarce, Jassyn thought, knocking before letting himself into his mentor’s office.
Despite his cousin’s maltreatment of Thalaesyn the prior night, the magister readily agreed to assist with the wraith. Adamantly eager to dive into further study, Thalaesyn seemed to take the potential coercion on Vesryn’s prisoners almost personally.
As to not rouse suspicion of the campus patrols, Vesryn fabricated a portal straight from the magister’s office when he returned from regenerating his magic. In the dracovae stables on the other side of the gateway, the prince dispatched one of the sentries to collect Flight Captain Zaeryn from her apartments.
The barn’s illumination had been extinguished for the evening, allowing the dracovae undisturbed sleep. A glass skylight permitted the light of the moons. Soft, rumbling snores and chirping chuffs escorted them past the stalls.
“You need to find something else to do while we work,” Jassyn urged as they strode down the dirt-packed hallway, igniting three globes of soft light to guide their way.
“Absolutely not,” Vesryn bit back, steering the three of them toward the end of the corridor.
Jassyn seized the prince’s arm, dragging him to a halt. Thalaesyn raised his brows but ignored their scuffle. A slow-blinking gray dracovae roused to hang its head over the stall door that they stopped in front of. The magister busied himself with stroking its feathery cheeks.
“You are not going to rend the coercion if there’s any present,” Jassyn insisted, tightening his grip around Vesryn’s taut muscles. “This needs to be delicate work. What if we manipulate the telepathy improperly and damage their minds?”
Vesryn opened his mouth, presumably to argue that they were feral, but Jassyn interrupted. “The king could’ve incorporated magic that prohibits anyone from tampering. If we provoke a reaction, we could lose all opportunities to obtain answers—or possible locations of where they came from.” The conclusion sounded painfully obvious to him, but Jassyn assumed the prince could benefit from more pointed reasoning. “As unlikely as it seems, what if they’re not actually mindless and they’re compelled to act in that manner? We know there are higher thinking wraith, so it’s possible. We’re doing this my way or we’re not doing it at all.”
“Do you even care about getting Serenna back?” Vesryn elbowed his arm out of Jassyn’s fingers. “If the wraith are hiding in the Hibernal Wastes like we’re suspecting, then that means those beasts likely have her—and who knows how many others who’ve disappeared over the years.” The prince’s eyes flashed with what looked like anguish and devastation. “I won’t hesitate to flay their minds if it gets me answers.”
“I know you’re worried. I’m worried too, but you need to trust me on this.” Jassyn blew out a breath, releasing his pent-up frustration with his cousin.
With an indecipherable expression chiseled into his features, Vesryn clenched his jaw, looking away. He didn’t meet Jassyn’s gaze, staring at Thalaesyn petting the dracovae.
Jassyn lowered his voice. “You heard how the magister said everything was his fault. We need to discover how. If we can untangle the coercion on the wraith, I should be able to use the same techniques to dispel the rest of the magic on Thalaesyn’s mind. We’ll figure out what secrets the king is concealing.”
Vesryn’s shoulders slumped, like wind vanishing from sails.
“I need his help—this is unfamiliar territory and magic we’ve never studied before,” Jassyn said, sensing he was finally wearing the prince down. “But it is possible to unravel the compulsion. Elashor dispelled it on me before I returned to Centarya.”
Vesryn yanked a thread off of his uniform. “Elashor should be the one we seize to pry answers out of. He’s closer to my sire than anyone else.” The prince shook his head, fingers twitching at his sides. “I can’t stand here and do nothing.”
“Then dispatch your rangers.” Jassyn placed a hand on Vesryn’s shoulder, knowing he needed to convince the prince to concentrate on something else—so as to not disturb the sensitive work. “You have Serenna’s general location. Organize your warriors so they can start patrolling in the morning. Let us handle this part. You focus on what you’re good at.”
Vesryn blew out a sigh. “Fine.” He jerked his chin down the stall-lined corridor. “Our command room is down there. You’ll inform me if you discover anything.”
Jassyn relaxed, watching the prince hide behind a mask of annoyance to conceal his unease. “Of course.”
“I’ll leave you to it then.” Vesryn pivoted on his heel, prowling down the hallway.
CHAPTER 27
LYKOR
Finally liberated from the gold portion of the dungeons, Lykor punched out a volley of force. The remaining rubble blasted out from the top of the prison stairs, crashing into the caverns. Strangled by a cloud of debris clogging the air, he and the girl both broke into a fit of coughing.
Her name is Serenna, Aesar chided, clearly still furious that Lykor had snatched back control, interrupting the recounting of his complete life story. As if the elf cared about every moment back to the second of his conception.
WHATEVER.
Lykor figured that Aesar had droned on enough that the elf was now sufficiently informed of the wraith. In return, the girl had filled the gaps in their knowledge of what little she knew of the elves’ activities these past few decades.
Lykor lifted his eyes when the sting of flying sediment receded, the air hazed from fallen stone. Barnacled to the rocky walls, mushrooms, lichens, and moss shimmered with glowing cyan hues, eliminating the need for illumination. A winding channel flowed ahead, feeding the various underground lakes within the volcano’s depths.
Striding toward the crystal water, weariness rippled off Lykor like the waves skimming the surface. Exacerbated by Aesar’s prattling and the stars knew how many hours ticking by since the elf had portaled to him, Lykor’s throat felt drier than the settling dust.
Staggering, the girl stumbled past him like her life depended on reaching the gravel shore first. She peeled off her boots at the water’s edge and glanced back at him. Uncertainty and grime streaked her face.
“Is it safe to drink?” she asked.
Lykor’s boots crunched on the shale as he approached the creeping stream. Curious how she’d react, he considered saying no.
In their mindspace, Aesar whirled from a window overlooking Kyansari’s spires. Do you have to be such a prick?
DO YOU HAVE TO MONITOR MY EVERY MOVE?
What else is there to do? Aesar muttered.
YOU DON’T FIND HER A LITTLE IRRITATING?
Less so than I find you. Aesar flopped to a couch, growing silent as he opened a tome. Lykor nearly asked what the fuck he could possibly be reading, but settled on a different question that had been needling at his mind.
