The Half King

10

“My sister, the miracle worker.” Nina’s face was predictably hidden by a sheet of black muslin, but her voice smiled. “I like the sound of that.”

“I’m sorry,” Cerise said, lying sideways on her bed with her puppy curled against her chest. She cuddled him with one hand while using the other to hold up the heartrending mirror. “You claim you’re my sister, but you could be anyone behind that veil. I’m going to need proof of your identity before this discussion goes any further.”

“Oh?” Nina said. “Your sacred ears can’t discern a lie?”

“Are you mocking the blessed oracle?”

“Never.”

“Good, because we take that sort of thing seriously here.”

“All right,” Nina said. “Here’s your evidence. You have a birthmark on your bottom. Left cheek. It’s pink and small and shaped like a squashed bug.”

Cerise drew a breath. “How do you know about that?”

“From visiting days at the temple. I used to change your clod when you were a baby.”

“So did a lot of people,” Cerise pointed out. “That proves nothing.”

“Hmm. I guess I’d better show myself, then.”

“Yes, you’d better.”

“Very well.”

Nina flipped back her veil, and at once, Cerise’s lips drifted apart in a sigh. By the goddess, Nina was so beautiful that it was impossible to know where to focus. Cerise drank in the curve of her sister’s face, her flawless lips, her smooth skin. But most breathtaking of all were Nina’s eyes, fringed by thick lashes, greener than springtime, and made infinitely more stunning by the warmth and affection brimming behind them. It was then that Cerise understood why she couldn’t look away from her sister.

Love .

“Your curse,” Cerise murmured, still entranced. “Does the Solon allure grow stronger when someone loves you?”

Nina’s eyes went wide. She seemed bothered by the question. “Why do you ask?”

“Because I met another firstborn Solon today,” Cerise said. “He’s handsome, but I don’t want to stare at him forever and ever.” She lost track of her thoughts, caught up in a haze as she traced the high angle of her sister’s cheekbones. But then Cerise noticed a slight change in the sharpness of Nina’s cheeks. She had lost weight.

The veil fell back into place. “That’s enough.”

“Wait, your face looks thin. Are you sick?”

“I am,” Nina said with a smile in her voice. “Every morning. I’m going to have a baby.”

Cerise gasped in excitement. She would be an aunt! But her happiness quickly sank when she remembered that Nina’s baby would carry a firstborn curse, and it might not be the Solon allure.

“You married a Calatris,” Cerise said.

“Yes. What of it?”

“His family curse…”

“There won’t be one,” Nina said. “Not for this baby. His late wife already gave him a firstborn—and a second-born. This will be his third child.”

Cerise shook her head. That wasn’t how it worked. It didn’t matter how many children Nina’s husband had sired with another woman. Nina had never been pregnant before. This baby would be her firstborn, which meant the child would bear a curse.

No. Enough was enough.

The curses needed to end—now. Cerise no longer cared what her role was supposed to be in the Reverend Mother’s “narrow path” to the future. She was done searching for clues that might inspire someone else to break the curses. Since no one seemed to have any idea how to earn the goddess’s forgiveness, she would do it herself.

“I’ll break the curses,” she promised. “Or I’ll die trying. I swear it.”

“Don’t say that,” Nina snapped. “I don’t want to hear any talk of dying. Do you hear me?” Her veiled head turned as if she was seeking support, and then Mama took the mirror.

“Darling,” Mama said as her face appeared in the glass. “I think what your sister is trying to say is that you’re every bit as important to us as the child she’s carrying. We don’t want you to risk your safety. The baby will be fine. We’ll make sure of it.”

“You can’t make sure of anything,” Cerise said. “Do you really think you can change the baby’s fate? Do you think any noble firstborn was ever saved by their family’s love? The curse is beyond your control, but it might be within mine. I already have to help break the noble curses to save the king, so why wouldn’t I double my efforts if it means saving Nina’s baby, too?”

“The only thing you have to do for the king is serve as his emissary,” Mama corrected. “That was the task the Reverend Mother assigned to you.”

“You have no idea what the Reverend Mother assigned to me, because I didn’t tell you.” But maybe it was time they knew the truth. “It might be time for the curses to be broken. The Reverend Mother couldn’t See how, but she said there’s a path to make it happen. And I’m going to find it.”

“Cerise,” Father called from outside the frame. “Do you want to upset your sister in her delicate condition? Because that’s what you’re doing. Your sister is in tears now.”

She let go of a long breath. Instead of making Nina feel better, she’d made her cry. Why couldn’t she say the right thing, just this once? The puppy seemed to sense her agitation and licked the edge of her jaw. “No. That’s not what I want.”

“Then we won’t speak of it again.” Mama nodded, closing the topic. “Now tell me more about the Solon gentleman you met at the palace. Is there any relation?”

Cerise hated the subject change. For her, the discussion was far from over. But she rubbed her pup’s ear and said, “Not a close relation. He kept asking about you, though.”

Mama touched her chest. “Me?”

“Yes, he thinks I look like someone he used to know. Were you ever at court?”

Mama shared a glance with someone outside the frame—Father, no doubt. Her eyes widened a fraction before they returned to the mirror. “How strange,” she said. “He must have me confused with someone else.”

Something about her tone seemed odd. Cerise studied her mother. She didn’t believe her parents had ever lied to her, but she couldn’t help feeling like there was a story in play and her family had just tried to close the book. “I’ll ask him tonight at dinner,” Cerise said, watching her mother’s expression closely. “He’s my escort.”

If there was any doubt that her parents were hiding something, their reactions put it to rest. Mama’s lips parted, and Father snatched away the mirror. The image movement caught the puppy’s eye, who yipped and snapped at the glass. Cerise held the mirror beyond his reach.

“That’s not necessary, my dear,” Father said. “Simply tell the man that we’ve never met him and change the subject if he asks again.”

“How do you know you’ve never met him?” Cerise asked, raising an eyebrow. “I haven’t told you his name.”

Father stammered.

“What are you hiding?” Cerise demanded. “Because I know there’s something wrong, and you’re not helping me by lying about it. I’m sick to death of being lied to!”

Father opened his mouth and paused to breathe. The frustration etched onto his face reminded her of the way General Petros struggled to tame his temper. “You’ve lived a sheltered life, Cerise. You don’t know how dangerous court politics can be. Nothing at court is as it seems. Behind every honest word, you should expect a hidden meaning. No one will be transparent with you. They’ve learned it’s not safe to be.”

“The king dismissed his court,” Cerise said. A silent voice inside her head added, It’s the priests I have to watch out for, and the ones who serve false idols .

“Even so, information is power,” Father told her. “Don’t give anything away unless you have to.” His eyes, nearly identical to Nina’s, were serious in a way that turned Cerise cold. Whatever he was hiding, it frightened him, and that shook her because she had never seen him afraid. “The temple taught you to be obedient and kind—admirable traits for a Seer but not for a lady in service to the king. Trust no one and say as little as possible.” He pointed a stern finger at her. “Do you understand?”

“Yes,” she told him, but she understood less than ever.

T hat night at dinner, Cerise kept her eyes fixed on her plate, nodding as she pretended to listen to Cole Solon’s prattle but secretly wondering why her parents hadn’t trusted her with the truth about him. The simplest explanation was that Cole and Mama had been lovers many years ago, before Mama married Father. But an affair wasn’t frightening or scandalous enough to lie about…unless it had happened after Mama married Father.

Could that be the case? Had Cole Solon seduced Mama into betraying her husband? Kian’s mother had fallen deeply enough for Cole’s charms to betray her king. But despite that, Cerise couldn’t imagine that her mother had done the same. It just didn’t feel right.

During the first course, Cerise snuck glances at Cole. She didn’t know what the late queen had seen in him. The longer she studied Cole’s chiseled features, the less human he seemed. By the second course, she agreed with Kian’s prior assessment of Cole as a slippery bastard . Flattery slid like oil off of Cole’s tongue. He complimented Daerick’s beard (something no one would do), remarked on Lady Champlain’s “healthy glow” (clearly a means of fishing for pregnancy news), and praised the way General Petros filled out his dinner jacket. It wasn’t until the general growled in annoyance that Cole finally returned his attention to Cerise.

“My lady,” Cole said to her as he buttered his dinner roll, “I admire how well you seem to have adjusted to palace life. It must have been a shock, leaving your temple.”

She nodded in agreement. “It was.”

“Well, clearly you were destined for court.” He delivered a grin that didn’t reach his eyes. “You’re a natural, my dear.”

She barely managed to stifle a laugh. If lies were gold, Cole Solon could build a palace out of coin.

“How are you settling in to your duties as emissary?” He lifted an apologetic hand and added, “Please forgive me for broaching such a vulgar topic as politics at the dining table. It’s just that our beloved Mother Strout left us far too soon. As much as we miss her, it’s a comfort to know that you’re here to carry on her legacy.”

“I can’t say that I’m carrying on her legacy just yet,” Cerise said. “I’m still learning what my responsibilities are. It certainly helps to have her journal as a guide, though.”

Cole paused, his dinner roll halfway to his mouth. He recovered quickly, but the slip hinted that she had revealed too much. For some strange reason, both Cole and General Petros had reacted to Mother Strout’s journal. Cerise couldn’t imagine why. She had read the whole thing from cover to cover and found not a word of interest. But regardless, Father had told her to say as little as possible, and she had failed him before the dessert course.

She would have to do better.

She wished Kian could be there to distract the group in that bold, scandalous way of his. Though she wouldn’t enjoy watching him escort Delora to dinner, not to mention flatter her with endless compliments, he would make up for it by telling a funny story. She smiled just thinking about it. She had come to crave his company more than she’d realized.

For the rest of the meal, she answered each of Cole’s questions in no more than a word or two. She could hear how rude she sounded, and she sensed Father Padron’s chiding gaze on her. She avoided that, too, by refusing to look up from her plate. Finally, Daerick asked if she was all right, and she used a heat migraine as an excuse to leave the table.

Away from the group, she felt free for the first time all evening, as though a boulder had been lifted from her chest. On her way back to her suite, she stopped at the kitchens for a bowl of water and a plate of congealed chicken blood. Then she asked the groundskeeper to lay a length of sod on her balcony for housetraining. After that, she returned to her chamber to spend the evening with the only creature that had never lied to her, criticized her, or vexed her in any way. Her puppy.

Truly, the world of men didn’t deserve dogs.

Remarkably, her pup was advanced well beyond his age. She was even able to teach him a few basic commands. As she did so, she tried to think of a fitting name for him. The answer came during a game of fetch, when she noticed a streak of color peeking out from between the folds on his back. She parted the loose skin to reveal a blotchy indigo birthmark.

“I have a birthmark, too,” she told him. “But mine’s pink, not blue.”

The pup rolled onto his back and hugged her wrist between his front paws—a move the brilliant rascal had learned would result in a belly rub.

“Blue,” she repeated, testing the name as she used her fingertips to tickle his skin. “What do you think? Do you like it?”

Eyes closed, he made a contented sound that she took as a yes .

“Then Blue it is.” She leaned down, rubbing noses with him. “We’re a family now, Lord Blue Solon. And that’s forever.”

When he opened his dark eyes and looked at her, she could swear that he had understood every word. Something seemed to pass between them: an unspoken promise that neither of them would ever feel alone again. For the first time in her life, she could say that her heart was truly full.

At bedtime, they snuggled on their sides between the linen sheets, Blue’s head tucked beneath her chin. He licked her neck once as if to say good night, and then they drifted into dreams.

T he next morning, when the sun was no more than a purple stain on the curtains, Cerise awoke to a growl and a shrill bark. She opened her eyes and found Blue standing alert in front of her pillow, his dark eyes focused on something she couldn’t see. She didn’t think much of it at first. She assumed Blue had caught sight of an insect or a lizard. But then she heard the click of her suite door closing, and she sat bolt upright, peering all around.

Someone had just been in her room.

The intruder had left, but that didn’t stop her heart from racing. She must have forgotten to lock the door last night when she returned from dinner. It was a mistake she wouldn’t make twice. She hated to imagine what could have happened if Blue hadn’t barked at the intruder and scared them away.

“Good boy,” she praised Blue while rubbing his head. “You’re my tiny hero.” Only he wasn’t as tiny as she remembered. Picking him up, she noticed that his rump no longer fit within the palm of her hand. “Let’s go find this growing boy some breakfast.”

Her miniature protector scampered alongside her in the corridor, his stumpy tail wagging and his head held high…until he approached the top of the staircase, where he halted as though he had reached the edge of the world. Cerise picked him up and carried him the rest of the way. They ate a breakfast of scones and sausages in the garden, then played hide-and-seek in the hedge maze until it was time to meet Daerick in her office.

Leaving Blue behind simply wasn’t an option, so she fashioned a sling out of an old scarf and tucked Blue inside it to rest with his head near her heart. By the time she reached her office suite, the motion of her footsteps had rocked him to sleep.

The door to her suite was already open. Beyond the sitting area, a male figure stood as still as stone in front of the window, peering out at the palace lawn as if deep in thought. He must have recently come in from outdoors, because he wore a cloak of gauzy linen to protect his head and his shoulders from the sun.

Cerise recognized him easily. “Good morning, Your Majesty,” she whispered so as not to wake Blue.

Kian pulled back his hood and turned to face her. “How did you know it was me?”

“You’re the only person who looks at the lawns as if you own them,” she said.

But that was only partly true. She had noticed other details about him—the casual tilt of his head, the confidence in his stance, the way he rubbed his thumb against his index finger when he checked the position of the sun. She kept those observations to herself. She didn’t want to admit to him how quickly she had learned his habits…and she didn’t want to admit it to herself, either.

“Impressive,” he said with a crooked grin that made her stomach dance. “You’re rather brilliant, except when it comes to toxic frogs.”

She pressed a hand over her abdomen to still it. The sensation was familiar. She recognized it from a dozen delivery days at the temple, when she had been naive enough to think the thrill was worth the cost.

She peered absently around the sitting room to avoid the slate-gray eyes that made her talk too much and feel unwelcome things. “Where’s Daerick?”

“He should be on his way.” Kian strode toward her and stopped near enough to fill her space with the scents of fresh hay and male skin. He removed his cloak and tossed it onto the velvet sofa. “I visited the stables and the kennel master this morning.”

“Did you?” Cerise asked while her pulse thumped from the closeness of him. She didn’t realize how quickly her heart was racing until Blue awoke and licked her chin as if to calm her. “I named the pup,” she blurted. “Lord Blue Solon. Blue for short.”

“Hello, Blue.” Kian rubbed the puppy’s head and pulled a treat from his pocket—a small, sand-colored nugget, which he sniffed at before recoiling. “The kennel master’s secret recipe. I don’t want to know what’s in this.”

Blue gobbled the treat in a single bite. When it became clear that there wouldn’t be any more, he smacked his chops and then rested his head squarely between Cerise’s breasts, causing her to blush and Kian to laugh.

“He’s the one living like a king,” Kian said. “I should be taking lessons.”

Thankfully, the moment ended when Daerick walked into the sitting room, noticed Blue, and wrinkled his nose as if he had encountered a mountain of horse dung.

“My lady,” Daerick said with feigned alarm. “There seems to be a goblin fastened to your chest. Is this some new form of punishment the priests have invented?”

Cerise shushed him while covering Blue’s ears. “He’s not a goblin, and you know it.”

“Half of him might be,” Kian muttered.

Cerise glared at the king and reminded herself that her purpose was to serve him, not to kick him in the shin. “His name is Lord Blue Solon.”

“Blue for short,” Kian added.

“Well, he’s hideous, but I suppose that isn’t his fault.” Daerick smoothed a wrinkle from his satin tunic. “We can’t all be handsome.”

“I think he’s perfect.” Cerise dropped a kiss on the top of Blue’s head. “And he’s smart, too. Brilliant, in fact. He already learned all of the commands I taught him, and this morning he saved me from an intruder in my bedchamber.”

Daerick and Kian widened their eyes at her.

“I was never in any real danger,” she added. “Blue scared away the person before I even knew they were there.”

Kian scrubbed a hand over his face. “Make no mistake, my lady of the temple—the danger in this palace is real.”

“I told you to lock your door,” Daerick said. “The night you arrived, remember?”

“I thought I did,” she said. “I’ll be more careful.”

Daerick glanced at Kian. “I saw the priests going from room to room last night. They questioned me before dinner. What did the investigation turn up?”

“It turned up nothing.” Kian folded his arms. “I summoned Padron at sunrise. He told me that his men finished their inquiry and that no one in the palace knows who’s responsible for the fire or the desert panther.”

“But they couldn’t have finished their inquiry,” Cerise said. She lifted Blue out of his sling and placed him on the floor so he could explore the office. “They didn’t question me.”

“Well, it’s obvious you had no part in the attacks,” Kian told her. “My parents were the first victims, and they died while you were still living at the temple.”

Cerise had heard stories that the late king and queen had died from unnatural causes, but she had dismissed the talk as gossip. “I thought that was a rumor.”

“Not all rumors are lies. This one had merit.”

“All right,” she said, “but if the priests thought it was unnecessary to question me, doesn’t it make you wonder who else they failed to investigate?”

Daerick smiled at her like a proud parent. “Now you’re thinking like a Calatris who no longer believes in the Silent Soul.”

“You taught me well,” she told him.

Kian sat on the arm of the sofa and exhaled a bitter laugh. “Padron lied to me. I don’t know why I’m surprised.”

“But how can any priest lie to you?” Cerise asked. “They’re compelled to obey you.”

“To obey my direct commands,” Kian said. “I can’t control the way their minds work. I can’t compel them to respect me or to support my rule. Even if I order them to speak only the truth, they can choose words that are misleading. Trust me, my lady of the temple. The priests are dutiful to me in body but not in spirit. All it takes for them to disobey me is creativity, and they have it.”

Cerise instinctively checked over both shoulders before she asked her next question. “ Could a priest have set the fire?” she whispered. “Or turned the panther loose?”

Kian shook his head. “The first order I give every priest is to take no action that could result in my harm. The actual command is longer than that. I worded it in a way to eliminate loopholes. They can’t hurt me directly. I made sure of it.”

So if the priests weren’t trying to kill Kian, then who was? Cerise couldn’t think of any group that stood to gain more from Kian’s death than the priests who resented their bond of service to him. “Who else benefits?”

“Anyone who wants my throne,” Kian said. “Take your pick.”

But an empty throne would lead to war, and Cerise refused to believe that any of the noble houses wanted that, not even the Petros dynasty. A firstborn Petros would certainly enjoy the bloody battles, but their victory wouldn’t win them control of the priests. At least she didn’t think so. The Mortara dynasty had used their dominion over the priests to unify the four lands and create the Allied Realm. Without magic, the Petros dynasty would have to use their own troops to hold the realm together and to enforce peace. The cost, both in coin and in lives, would be more than the throne was worth.

“What’s the point of killing you and stealing your throne if the new monarch won’t have command over the priests?” she asked.

“Who says they won’t?” Kian countered. “We don’t know what would happen, because we have no idea why they’re bound to me in the first place.”

Daerick made a noise of disagreement. “I think the priests have an idea. They must believe that your death will set them free. Otherwise, they wouldn’t be making a play for the throne.”

“What?” Cerise asked. “What play?”

“Kian knows,” Daerick said, peering somberly at the king.

“He’s referring to the recent deaths in Calatris,” Kian told her. “General Petros thinks the murders were facilitated by the Order to eliminate competition for my throne.”

“What evidence does he have of that?” Cerise asked.

“It’s circumstantial,” Daerick said. “The heads of the two most powerful families in Calatris were summoned by the Order to attend a meeting, supposedly to discuss temple taxes or some such. But when the men arrived for the meeting, they found no one there…except for an assassin who just so happened to be waiting for them. The priests arrived too late to stop the killings. They claimed a wheel had broken on their carriage.”

“A wheel that any priest could mend with magic,” Cerise murmured. If the story was true, then General Petros was right. The priests had been complicit. “I was there when General Petros confronted Father Padron about the deaths.”

“Oh?” Daerick asked with a lifted brow. “And did Father Padron apologize on behalf of his men? Did he happily agree to control the priests who follow his every whim and worship him like he’s a god?”

“No,” she said. Father Padron had paralyzed the general in a show of dominance.

Cerise chewed on the inside of her cheek. She absently stroked Blue’s head and remembered what Kian had told her when they first met. You will find evil here, in the most unexpected places. By the time the shadows consume me and I dissolve into nothing, you’ll wish you could forget all the things the temple has hidden from you .

His prediction had already come true. She wished she couldn’t believe that the Order coveted the throne, because it upended everything she had known about the world. But she couldn’t ignore what she had seen of the Order since she’d come here. Was that what the Reverend Mother had been trying to tell her? She knew there had to be some priests who were loyal to the goddess. But what were their numbers? Were they willing to stand against their brothers? No second-born given in service to the temple had been raised to question the Order’s teachings, only to follow them.

One thing was certain: any person, priest or otherwise, with unchecked power on the throne would be a nightmare.

“Your Majesty,” Cerise said. “I need to ask you another uncomfortable question.”

Kian swept a permissive hand. “If you must.”

“Is Lady Champlain carrying your heir?”

Kian parted his lips, momentarily at a loss for words. “No. And that information is not to leave this room. Do you understand?”

Cerise nodded. She could see why he would want the Order to fear the possibility of having a new commander. “It seems to me the only way to stop a priest from taking the throne is to keep you on it—and to make sure your bloodline continues. And to do that, we have to put all of our focus on breaking the curse before it takes you. We have to make it our only goal. Because if we fail and the Order has no master…”

Daerick shuddered. “Say no more. Let’s start with what we know about undoing curses: the soothsayer told us that blood spilled requires blood given.”

“All right, so who stabbed the goddess?” Kian asked, looking to Cerise as if she would know the answer. “Which dynasty spilled her blood?”

Cerise tipped up her palms. It was common knowledge that the Petros dynasty had forged the weapon used in the attack. The weapon was known as the Petros Blade, but none of the scrolls mentioned who had actually wielded it or what had happened to the blade following the Great Betrayal.

“Maybe it doesn’t matter,” she said. “All four houses are equally guilty of trying to kill Shiera. If a firstborn from each noble dynasty makes a blood offering to the goddess, maybe that will repay the debt.”

“But how much blood is enough?” Kian asked. “A thimbleful? A whole body full? And in what manner should it be spilled in order to appease your goddess?”

“She’s your goddess, too,” Cerise reminded him. Other than that, she didn’t know the answers to his questions.

Kian groaned and rolled his eyes to the heavens. “Perhaps you can pray to the goddess you adore so much and ask her for a hint—just a shade of transparency to clarify the water she deliberately muddied for us.”

A shade of transparency . The words stood out in Cerise’s mind. She recalled what her father had told her about the dangers of court politics: Nothing at court is as it seems. Behind every honest word, you should expect a hidden meaning. No one will be transparent with you. They’ve learned it’s not safe to be .

All of a sudden, she thought of Mother Strout’s journal and how little information it contained. There was nothing of use on its pages, only scribbles and secretarial details, so why had the old emissary bothered to keep a journal at all? Unless there was more to it…a hidden meaning behind the words, like Father had said.

Cerise slipped to her desk and opened the middle drawer to retrieve the journal. She lifted the black-and-white book and flipped through its pages, studying them with fresh eyes. Now that she paid special attention, she could see how the outer edge of each nonsensical drawing along the margin aligned with the inner edge of the drawing on the next page. Mother Strout hadn’t scribbled in her journal out of boredom. She had left a message for her replacement, and Cerise had nearly missed it.

“Help me with this,” she said, then told Kian and Daerick what she had learned.

Together, they worked for the next hour to carefully cut each drawing from its margin and lay it atop Cerise’s mahogany desk. There were hundreds of pieces in all—a handmade puzzle to solve without a single guiding clue. Next came the task of arranging the pieces into something recognizable. The process was laboriously slow, but eventually the matches began to reveal a rough sketch of a lady’s gown. After that, the puzzle came together more easily. Daerick found the final match, and then they stood back to study the picture.

The sketch showed a group of people, five of them in all, gathered at the base of a mountain. One of the figures appeared to be a priest or at least a man dressed in robes. Two figures were depicted as women, and another two were depicted as men. The priest stood at the center of the group, holding a sword in his outstretched hands while the four other figures touched the blade with their index fingers. The image was titled Contrition in tiny block letters and dated a hundred years in the past, as if Mother Strout had discovered the artwork and sketched from memory.

“Is this…” Cerise began, nearly afraid to hope. “Could this be…”

“A visual set of instructions for breaking the curse?” Daerick offered. “It certainly looks that way.”

Cerise had never seen anything like it. “I wonder where the original is.”

Kian exhaled bitterly. “If Strout hadn’t poisoned herself, we could ask her.”

But had she poisoned herself? Especially after making such an important discovery?

“I can’t believe she kept it a secret,” Cerise said. The world of men had been looking for a way to break the noble curses for a thousand years. Uncovering this knowledge would have made Mother Strout a hero to every noble family in the world.

“I know; it doesn’t make sense,” Daerick agreed. “If I found a way to end generations of torment, I would tell anyone with ears.”

So would Cerise. But then she remembered her father’s warning about transparency being a danger at court. Maybe Mother Strout had hidden her discovery because she’d felt unsafe. And considering her recent death, her fears had probably been justified.

Kian pointed at the sword. “Well, this answers my question. A drop or two of blood from all four dynasties, given to—”

“The Petros Blade,” Cerise breathed, touching the sword in the drawing. Her heart was beating too fast, and there was a strange buzzing in her ears. The revelation was real. Her purpose was real. She might actually have a chance of doing this. “But where do we get it?”

“I heard it’s frozen in the northern ice caps,” Kian said.

“No,” Daerick told him. “You’re thinking of the Chalice of Champions, and that’s not a real thing.”

“Of course it’s not real. I wasn’t thinking of the Chalice. Everyone knows it’s made up.”

“Not everyone.”

“Everyone with a brain.”

“Well, I’m just saying…”

While the two of them bickered, Cerise squinted at a miniature detail she’d just noticed in the background. There was more to the picture. A series of numbers had been cleverly drawn into the curves of the mountainside. “What’s this?”

Daerick leaned over the puzzle and inspected it for a silent beat before his face transformed into a smile. “It’s a cipher.”

“To a code?” Kian asked.

“To a code,” Daerick echoed. He picked up the journal and strode closer to the window, where he thumbed through its margin-less pages in the morning light. Thank Shiera they hadn’t just ripped the pages out.

“And to think,” he muttered to himself, “I accused the old woman of flimsy recordkeeping. She was more brilliant than any of us gave her credit for.”

“I knew her journal entries didn’t make sense,” Cerise said. “I should have put it together sooner.”

“Don’t be too hard on yourself,” Kian told her. “I doubt the temple prepared you for a life of code-breaking and intrigue.”

“Well, either way, we’re lucky that Father Bishop brought the journal back.” She peeked at Daerick, who was furiously scanning a new page. “Do you think he noticed anything suspicious about the entries?”

“I doubt it,” Daerick murmured absently. “Otherwise, he would have kept it and tried to decode it himself.”

She supposed he was right. Still, she worried that Father Bishop might have discovered more than he’d let on. If Mother Strout had helped raise him from infancy, he would have known her better than anyone else at the palace.

Kian tapped his booted foot as he watched Daerick scan the journal. “Do you need parchment?” Kian asked him. “A quill?”

“Only silence, thank you,” Daerick said, his eyes wide and fixed on the page.

The waiting was torture. Even Blue, who had curled up to nap in a patch of sunlight, seemed to sense the tension in the air. He lifted his head from the carpet, peered sleepily at Cerise, and then gave a tremendous yawn before setting his head down again.

“I’ve got it!” Daerick closed the journal between his hands with a loud snap that caused Blue to flinch. “I know the message she was hiding.”

“Which was…” Kian prompted.

“The location of the Petros Blade.” Daerick wobbled a palm in a so-so motion and added, “Sort of.”

Kian growled, pinching the bridge of his nose in annoyance. “Lord Calatris, I am not in the mood for riddles.”

“All right, all right,” Daerick said. “Cutting right to the chase.”

“Please do,” Cerise told him. She wasn’t in the mood for games, either.

Daerick held up the journal for show. “Here’s the short of it: I don’t know where Strout found her information or even if it’s correct, but according to her, the Petros Blade was hidden on the blighted mountain by Shiera’s followers. It’s under an enchantment that moves it to a new location at every full moon. The only way to find it is with sunset runes.”

Kian wrinkled his brow. “Sunset runes are real? I thought they were a myth, like the Chalice.”

“So did I,” Daerick said. “But Mother Strout believed otherwise.”

Cerise had never heard of sunset runes. “What are they?”

“Imagine a set of dice,” Daerick said. “But with distances carved on one and directions carved on the other. You cast the dice before sunset, and they show you which way to travel the next day and for how far. Supposedly, they can lead you to any object in the world, and then they vanish when you find it.”

“But what leads us to the runes?” Cerise asked, trying not to think too hard about why the temple hadn’t taught her any of this. She could worry about that later. “How do we find them ?”

Kian chuckled under his breath. “There lies the irony.”

“Ah, but Mother Strout had an answer for that as well,” Daerick said, holding up an index finger. “She claimed the runes will present themselves to a worshipper of pure faith who makes an offering of darkness and light at the Blighted Shrine.”

Of course. The Blighted Shrine! Cerise knew of that. It had been built as a tribute to Shiera’s resilience, named for its location on the mountain peak where the Great Betrayal had taken place. As for the nature of the offering, Cerise had an abundance of light to give. But she didn’t know what manner of darkness the goddess would require.

“A worshipper of pure faith.” Daerick teasingly tapped his chin while grinning at Kian. “Does that describe anyone you know?”

“Hmm,” Kian said, pretending to think about it. “That’s a tough one. We might have to turn the kingdom upside down to find a person like that.”

Both of their smiling gazes turned to Cerise. She knew they were making fun of her, but she couldn’t help but smile in return. Now that she had hope—real hope—of breaking the curse, she was finally in the mood for games.

“I might know someone,” she told them, playing along. “And she might be willing to help you, but she insists on traveling with her pup.”

“Is her pup at least handsome?” Daerick asked, biting back a grin.

Cerise glanced at Blue, who had rolled onto his back and now lay asleep on the carpet with his limbs splayed out, his wide jaw open at an awkward angle, and his tongue lolling to the side. “He’s the most breathtaking hound to have ever been sired.”

“…by a goblin,” Kian added with a snigger. He held up an apologetic hand to fend off a glare. “All teasing aside, we need to make a plan.”

Yes, they certainly did. Mother Strout had given them a lead—maybe at the expense of her own life—and now they owed it to her to follow it. And with just under six moons until the king’s last sunset, there was no time to waste.

“The blighted mountain is a death trap,” Daerick said. “We’ll need a guide—someone discreet who can tell us which routes are safe to travel and where to find water along the way. It will cost us a lot of coin, but I think I know where to find one.”

“Take as much from the treasury as you need,” Kian told him.

“I can start gathering supplies,” Cerise volunteered. “How many people will be traveling with us? And how long do you think we’ll be gone? Do we need to arrange a caravan?”

Kian jutted his chin toward the journal. “Old Strout kept this a secret for a reason. Until we find out why, I want to keep our group as small as possible. Let’s plan a day trip for the three of us, just an exploratory visit to see what we’re up against. Then I can decide who else to include. I know I can trust General Petros. But Father Padron… I only want to bring him with us if our lives depend on it. A priest’s protection isn’t always worth the cost of his presence.”

Cerise couldn’t argue with that.

“Then it’s decided,” Kian announced. “We’ll take the rest of the day to prepare, and we’ll leave tomorrow morning. Meet me at the stables an hour past dawn.”