Elisaf is far in the back, waiting patiently; the other guards are outside. But I sense my time here is limited. Too long and I might be testing the lax leash Zander released me on. Regardless, I’ll have to provide an explanation for our conversation.
Three priestesses kneel in front of the altar. They haven’t moved an inch since we sat down. There are no wary looks, no secretive stares, nothing to suggest they’re hiding anyone within these walls.
“Is something the matter, Your Highness?” Wendeline asks.
“I don’t know.” I’ve spent years looking at everyone through a lens of suspicion. I didn’t want to use it on Elisaf and Wendeline. But maybe that will be my downfall.
I study the priestess intently as I ask, “What reason would a seer have to come to Cirilea?”
She can’t hide the flash of surprise in her eyes fast enough. I think that’s the trick with Wendeline—she’s always given the opportunity to slip on her invisible armor before facing anyone. But my impromptu visit here with Mika in tow didn’t allow for that.
Her reaction brings a conflicting surge of satisfaction, and a sting of betrayal. Bexley was right, and I’ve been far too trusting. “You knew.”
Her gaze shifts to the kneeling priestesses, and then to her peripheral, to make sure no one is behind us. She releases a sigh that seems to carry the weight of a heavy burden from her chest with it. “They arrived two days ago. But I knew they were coming.”
“They’re here?” I glance around us.
“They will not come here. They’re not foolish.”
“Have you told Zander?” The state of her fingernails would suggest not.
“No.”
I shake my head. “You lied to us yesterday.”
“I shared what information I could.” She studies the floor. “Do not think that I am unaware of Zander’s suspicions or his contempt for Mordain. I share that contempt. All I can do is act in the best interests of Islor and hope that he continues to allow me the grace to do so.”
Zander was right to be skeptical of her, but now is not the time for condemnations. “Where is Ianca?”
“Ianca’s knowledge is invaluable, and Gesine is a powerful asset, even collared. They did not break free from Neilina’s grip and sail here just to risk becoming puppets for someone else. They will find you when they are ready, and not before.”
“Why are they even here?” I lower my voice, afraid it’s carrying. “Is Mordain scheming against Islor?”
“No.” She shakes her head firmly. “Not in the way the king would fear. There are events that must come to pass and pieces that must fall into place. They are here so that when that happens, they can guide you forward as best they can.”
“Guide me? I don’t understand. Guide me through what?” Frustration bleeds into my tone.
The smile she gives me is pained. “The prophecy is there, collecting dust within thousands of years of ramblings, scribed and forgotten. The Ybarisan daughter of Aoife and the Islorian son of Malachi joined together will bring peace to both realms.”
“This is all about some prophecy?” Wendeline mentioned it the last time we sat here but didn’t elaborate. It didn’t seem important to her.
“Not some prophecy. The prophecy. You and Zander were meant to find each other.”
“And what does Zander think about it?”
Her brow pinches.
“You haven’t told him.”
“I tried, but he will not listen.”
“Why not?”
“Because he is not ready to accept it yet. He is still struggling with his pride after what Aoife did to him.”
She means the bewitched king situation, I assume.
“Neither of you are ready, but you will be. I can already see it in the way you look at each other.” There is urgency in her vague words.
“Ready for what, though? You’re speaking in riddles.” My anger flares. I had enough of those with Sofie. More than anything, though, I’ve had enough of hiding, of stumbling my way through this mess alone. I’ve had enough of people lying to me. I’ve finally reached my breaking point. “Do you even have any idea what I am or why I’m here?”
Her blue eyes search my face. She exhales slowly, as if making a decision. “You are a key caster, and I assume Malachi has sent you here to try to open the nymphaeum door.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Mika tears down the aisle as fast as his little legs can carry him, oblivious to the etiquette of the holy place. Somewhere else in the sanctum, Lilou wails.
And I feel like Wendeline has casually kicked out the pew from under me.
“A key caster.” I stare at the priestess. An elemental with all four elements. Very rare, very powerful, she had said. “No, I’m not.” She’s mistaken. I’m a basic human. A thief.
She smiles. “You forget that I was a tester in my former life. I can see these things.”
“You’re saying you tested me.”
“Yes. After the daaknar attack.”
I drop my voice until it’s barely audible even between us. “And you found affinities to all four elements in me.”
“Yes. Caster affinities.”
“That’s impossible.”
“It was shocking,” she agrees. “I also tested Princess Romeria when she first arrived here, to see how powerful she was. Covertly, of course. I can confirm she only had an elven affinity to Aoife. And since the fates cannot gift affinities, the only possibility I have come up with is that Malachi somehow bound a key caster to Princess Romeria’s body. But there are none anywhere in Ybaris or Mordain, and certainly not one who has never heard of the fates or elemental magic. I don’t know where Malachi found you, or how he bound you to her body, but you are a key caster. An immortal key caster. You can create with your caster affinities and manipulate with your elven affinity. There has never been another one like you in our realm.” There is awe in her voice.
My head swims. “She said she couldn’t believe I didn’t know what I was,” I say more to myself.
“Do you mean the elemental that Malachi used to do this?” Wendeline asks carefully. “So, you do remember a life before waking up as Princess Romeria.”
I hesitate. It’s the first time I’ve admitted to remembering my life before coming to Islor. “I am Romeria. But I’m not from here.”
She inhales deeply and then nods. “Seers can see across dimensions and into other worlds. They’ve taught us that this is not the only world created by the fates, that there are others with different dynamics and paths of history. Places identical to ours and yet opposite, where humans rule and the immortals and casters skulk in the shadows, hiding their existence.”
“Yes. That’s where I’m from.”
A slow smile stretches across her lips. “I want to hear that story one day when we have time. I imagine it will be like nothing I’ve ever heard before.”
The toil that has clenched my insides for so many weeks unravels a touch. I’ve told someone. Someone finally knows my secret. Except …
“You’ve known all along what I am?” I can’t help the accusation in my tone.