Vesryn dodged the question, growling, “I’m tired of this pointless speculation.” His knuckles blanched around the flask. “We won’t know anything else until you can unravel the rest of the coercion on Thalaesyn.”
Jassyn had nearly untangled the web of magic on his mentor, unlocking the answers in the magister’s head. Thalaesyn had insisted that Jassyn spend more time focusing on the wraith, rather than on him—what he knew wouldn’t change anything anyway.
“But how do you think all of this started?” Jassyn pushed. “Magister Thalaesyn said it was his fault, but surely he didn’t set out to create monsters.”
“Can we talk about something else?” The prince scowled, jabbing a finger at Jassyn, railing on. “How about we discuss why you aren’t at the palace tonight. I figured you would’ve received no less than fifty invitations.”
Jassyn clicked his teeth shut, the reminder cutting like a blade. The nobles apparently hadn’t abandoned the notion that he’d be amenable to joining the courts.
“I stopped counting after seventy-three,” he mumbled, scoring his boot heels into the ground, not appreciating Vesryn flipping the uncomfortable topic onto him.
Vesryn fiddled with the laces on his tunic, eyes fixed on the western horizon. “Speaking of the capital, I want to transfer Thalaesyn and the wraith somewhere else. Somewhere hidden. If any of the rangers are compromised and alert my sire…” Vesryn clenched his jaw, picking stones out of the ground. “I want the entire story first before we even consider what comes next.”
“Where are you thinking?” Jassyn took a sip of wine, contemplating the prince’s uncharacteristic logic. “Between Elashor’s soldiers and the possibility of that wraith army returning, I’m not sure Centarya is much safer.”
“I know a place. I’m confident in its security.” Drawing his arm back, Vesryn skipped a pebble out onto the lake. “There’s an unusual jungle in the Hibernal Wastes—an ancient city, long abandoned.” He bounced another rock in his palm before tossing it into the water. “Aesar and I discovered it. As far as I know, no one else knows about it.”
Jassyn frowned, unsure how a jungle could exist in the middle of the endless frozen mountains, but he had more pressing concerns to address. “I worry those with shaman blood might be in danger as well.”
Anticipating Vesryn would insist that he practice with his elemental power now that he’d brought it up—even in the middle of their makeshift dinner—Jassyn cast his awareness out to his surroundings. An ocean of energy hummed under his skin, a sensation that still wasn’t quite familiar. Attuning himself to the stream, a pressure of power blossomed in Jassyn’s chest. He twisted his wrist, hauling out a globe of water.
“Maybe we could bring those from Centarya to the jungle at some point,” Vesryn said. With a pulse of Essence, he ignited dim illumination, sending the lights whirling around them. “Do you have any theories on why you’re the only one who’s manifested those elemental powers?”
It was a question Jassyn had reflected on multiple times. “I think it was because of the Stardust.” The admission didn’t gut him like it used to. Curling his fingers, he shifted the shape of the water, stretching the liquid out like a serpent. “I couldn’t channel Essence effectively because of the dust’s interference. And I sensed the earth’s magic when…” When he’d thought someone was going to die. Jassyn blinked at the water spinning around his hands, guilt furrowing his brow. “When I was desperate and out of options.”
“Maybe those with Essence haven’t noticed that the other power is there waiting.” Vesryn tracked the liquid winding around Jassyn’s hands. “But we have no way of knowing who might share the same abilities as you—Nelya and your ring of magus haven’t noticed anything unusual on campus.”
I could be the only person aside from the king and the Vallendes who are aware of the others. Jassyn glanced away, dragging his hand through his curls. He sighed, knowing he shouldn’t have kept the knowledge to himself this long. He still hadn’t informed the prince of Serenna’s shaman ancestry—but that was her secret to tell.
“I…may have some insight on that,” Jassyn admitted. Flattening his palm, he formed the water into an orb again before pitching it all the way to the lake. “There are books in Farine’s estate.” He blinked, realizing his words were slurred. Surely that was only hesitation thickening in his throat. Jassyn squinted, examining the empty bottle against Vesryn’s illumination, unable to recall drinking every last drop.
“Books?” Vesryn thumbed his lower lip. “I can get you books. My mother’s library has been sealed off since… Well since she’s been gone, but there isn’t a finer collection.” He idly plucked at the grasses near his feet, shucking seeds from tassels. “The archivists were able to restore most of the volumes my sire destroyed.”
Jassyn shook his head. “No, I need Fynlas’ research—he tracked shaman bloodlines and his notes might shed light on what the king intends.”
Vesryn’s face hardened like the surrounding boulders. “And it would tell us who could be in danger.” He drank again from the flask before scowling up at the rising moons.
Jassyn’s fingers tightened around the empty wine bottle. “Farine presented me with an offer after my last summoning.” Stomach churning, his mind veered away from what that next visit would entail. “She indicated I could have another tome if I—”
Choking on his drink, Vesryn spluttered a flurry of coughs. “You can’t be serious about returning to that hag’s estate.”
Now wishing there was more wine, Jassyn set the bottle aside before scrubbing a hand over his face. “It’s the only way.” He nearly asked Vesryn for a sip of that vile firewater. “I thought…if I had Stardust—”
“Absolutely not,” Vesryn said, pounding the ground with his fist. “You’re obviously drunk. Where are these books? Somewhere in that mansion?”
Jassyn nodded, the dregs of wine souring on his tongue. “Fynlas had a study.”
Unfolding himself, Vesryn rose and tipped his head back, emptying the flask before tossing it into the basket. Straightening his tunic, he opened a portal. Gaping between the gateway and his cousin, Jassyn’s mouth worked in a silent question.
“It’s been a while,” Vesryn said, rebinding his hair. “But I can probably still find my way around.”
Jassyn scrambled to his feet, primed to argue now that his mind had caught up with the prince’s plan. “You can’t barge into the Vallende estate and demand that research.”
Vesryn scoffed, offended. “I could. But where’s the fun in that?” A frenzied glint shone in his eyes—a precursor Jassyn recognized all too well of the prince plotting something exceptionally maniacal. Vesryn interlaced his fingers, flexing his palms outward. Turquoise light warped around him. “I’m going to steal it.”
Surrendering his height—not by much—the illusion shortened Vesryn a few inches, adding a stockiness to his frame and a darker hue to his hair. Jassyn’s eyes popped when the prince’s clothes disappeared. A diaphanous curtain replaced his trousers, his chest left bare.
“Is this what the servants still wear?” Vesryn asked, morphed into a passable elven-blooded.
Jassyn stifled a nervous laugh at how ridiculous—and accurate—the illusion looked. “White now, instead of silver.”
Vesryn flicked his wrist, changing the color. Jassyn’s gaze shot back to his cousin’s face. The sheet of fabric was utterly miserable at concealing skin and Vesryn had no qualms about displaying what was underneath. Though Jassyn had a suspicion the prince had enhanced himself as part of the illusion.
“You’re the one who’s drunk,” Jassyn argued. “I don’t think this is a good idea.” Somehow losing his balance, he stumbled, catching himself on a boulder.
Vesryn arched a brow. “Everyone of note is at the palace tonight—it’s the perfect opportunity. And from what I remember, some type of inebriation is the usual state of the servants. I doubt it’ll take me five minutes.”
Intrigue waged war with the anxiety slinking through the dark corners of Jassyn’s mind. His shiver had nothing to do with the mountain’s chilly air. Stars, I can’t believe I’m considering this.
“I’ll go with you,” he said in a rush, before indecision could constrict him.
Alarm prickled the back of his neck as Vesryn’s grin morphed into genuine excitement. The last time Jassyn had seen such a delighted look was seventy years ago when the prince had spun illusions of wraith to chase him down the corridors of the palace.
Pinching the bridge of his nose, Jassyn momentarily wrestled with Essence before his power sparked and ignited. Squeezing his eyes shut, he wrapped himself in a similar scandalous illusion.
CHAPTER 40
SERENNA
