I shake my head. At least I don’t think he knew. He never said anything. But everything she just told me fits. Elementals age quickly and lose their eyesight. My father’s eyes are weak, and he looks far older than his forty-nine years. I assumed it was the harsh life, but maybe that has nothing to do with it. Maybe the cause is something I could never have imagined.
He is not ill. His mind is simply fractured.
That is what Sofie meant.
“What about a traumatic event? Could that cause this change?” Like witnessing a murder in a parking lot.
“I do not know if there has been such a case. The scribes in Mordain would know.” She seems to consider it. “I suppose a shock big enough could be a catalyst, especially if they’re already nearing their time.”
I steady my breathing.
“Many years ago, Mordain was known for using male elementals to breed caster children. The most famous of all—Caster Yason—fathered three hundred gifted children before his change.”
“That’s a lot of … babies.” I censor the far crasser word I’d prefer to use, for Wendeline’s benefit.
“There is a statue of him in Mordain’s capital, Nyos, standing like a proud bull.” She smiles bitterly. “After King Ailill’s folly, Ybaris no longer permits male elementals to live. They fear they would not bend easily to the will of Ybaris, and they could not risk another Ailill, tempting the fates so recklessly. But also, they are the ones who create key casters, and once Ybaris learned of how Ailill used Farren to tear the fold, they decided that the risk of allowing a key caster to live far outweighed the benefit, should one ever fall into the hands of Islor again.”
“So, you’re saying Ybaris and Mordain have spent two thousand years slaughtering babies to protect themselves against a key caster, and yet here I am.”
“Malachi has found a way around Ybaris’s bid to stifle him from this world, yes. He is attempting to open the door to that nymphaeum again. You must not do it.”
“Well, of course not. Not after what you’ve told me about Farren and tearing open the fold. But why does he think I can do it if she couldn’t?”
She does a perfunctory glance around. “We are not entirely sure, but we think it is because Farren used her power to attempt to pry the door open, instead of taking the altar and allowing the nymphaeum’s power to channel through her.”
Taking the stone. “Right. That.”
“Aoife created you to destroy the immortal Islorians. You were her weapon. And Malachi has taken her weapon and morphed it for his means. I can’t imagine she will be happy if he succeeds.”
“So, I’m a pawn for two scheming gods.” I’m a pawn … again. “Why didn’t you say anything to me before about what I am?”
“I wasn’t yet sure who you are. Keeping it from you was the wise choice until I figured that out.” Mika runs past again, his childish giggles and a determined Dagny trailing. Wendeline smiles at the boy. “But I think I have a good idea now. And you seem to appreciate the danger of what you are. Of the harm you could cause.”
“Yes, which is why I’m worried.”
“Malachi cannot force you to take the stone on Hudem. The fates can’t create will out of thin air.”
There is small comfort in that. But my situation is growing clearer by the moment. “I’m never returning to my old life, am I?” Even if I could, would I want to? Based on what Wendeline just told me, I would have another ten to twenty years in that body, at most, before it lost its hold on reality. I would end up wandering the streets like my father, ranting about demons.
But Sofie’s evasiveness when I asked her what would happen to me after I retrieved this stone tells me all I need to know—there is no going back.
Her smile is gentle. “Whoever you were before, you are now bound to this body, and I suspect what was done cannot be undone. But you are powerful in a way that you do not yet understand. Oh, the things you will be able to do once you learn, Romeria … That is why you must allow Gesine to guide you. And Ianca, as much as she is able, though I fear her time of usefulness to you is limited. But you cannot wield caster magic without training.”
“What about you?”
“I will have my own tasks here. And Gesine will be a formidable ally. She studied with the scribes before leaving Mordain. She knows more about seer prophecy than anyone else I know.”
It dawns on me. G. “The letter to Margrethe. It was from Gesine. You knew Margrethe summoned Malachi for me.”
“I’m the one who pulled the arrow from your body and helped her drag you out of sight.” She glances over her shoulder. “You must go now. We have dallied too long. The king will have many questions about our conversation.”
And Wendeline has told so many lies. “What do I say to him?”
“Tell him what you’ve learned about the seer in the city. He is looking for every reason to trust you, even if he does not yet see it. He has been resisting this lure he feels toward you, but he will lose against it. I believe that will happen soon.”
My heart stutters. What does that mean?
“But if there is a way to leave out mention of our discussion, that would be best for the time being. For all our sakes.”
“He can read me, Wendeline. He knows when I’m lying.”
“You’re clever. You’ll figure out a way.” She smiles. “I know it may appear like a bad thing, but there are positives to that ability too. He will begin to see the real you and rely on you and confide in you. You must find a way to trust each other. That is how you will survive what will come to pass. Tell him only what he needs to know, for now. Eventually he will learn that I have deceived him. I will accept the consequences accordingly.” She reaches over to set her hand on mine. “But please know this, Romeria. Everything I have done has been for the future of Islor that the king wants.” She squeezes. “Go now. You must go. And tell no one what you are.”
I leave Wendeline sitting in the pew, her eyes closed as if in prayer.
Corrin is pacing in the courtyard when the carriage rolls in. She marches forward to meet me the second my shoes touch the cobblestone. “Where have you been? I expected you back two hours ago!”
I force down the conflicting swirl—relief, panic, dread—that has gripped me since leaving the sanctum and feign a glib tone. “Were you actually worried about me?”
“Hardly,” she scoffs. “Your Highness.”
I’m beginning to appreciate Corrin. In a place where everyone lies or evades the truth, she’s easy to read. “It took longer than expected. Odier had a lot of options to consider, and there were a few delays.”
“Yes, well, I’m sure the king will also be …” Her words drift as Mika hops out and tumbles to the ground. He tucks and rolls before scampering back to his feet. “Why is there a little boy with—” She grabs him by the ear and holds him in place to check the marking on his cuff. “I don’t know this house. But why do you have someone’s child? What have you done?”
“I found us a new baker.”
“We already have one!”
“And now we have two. Corrin, this is Gracen,” I introduce as two guards help her out of the carriage, her pregnant belly somehow looking more swollen as she climbs down the step. Dagny follows with the toddler in her arms. “And her daughter Lilou. You’ve met Mika. They’re going to live here with us.”