The Kishion put a hand on her shoulder, stopping her. She looked up at his face, saw the hard look there—but it was not focused on her this time.
He gazed down at Tyrus. “The Arch-Rike knows of the Dryad in the tree,” he said. “It is already weak from living in the city. He gave the order to have it cut down.”
“No!” Phae gasped, clutching the Kishion’s tunic.
He nodded. “I did not understand the reason, other than revenge, but the Arch-Rike cannot allow a portal to exist inside the city that he does not control. He is very careful who is allowed to use the gateways or where they can be entered from. It may take a few days for the order to be carried out, but I fear it is done by now.”
Phae turned from the Kishion to her father, her heart despairing. “You cannot abandon her!”
Tyrus looked up, his face lined with a deep scowl. His eyes were haunted. “We knew the risks,” he whispered. He shook his head. “I cannot shield her from the Arch-Rike’s wrath as I wish to.” His shoulders slumped. “You do not understand, child, what it cost her—what it cost us both to give you up. I would prefer another dagger thrust than to experience this pain. We knew a sacrifice would be necessary. Her instincts require her to provide a replacement for herself. She gave that up to try to save generations yet unborn. That has been my chief desire as well. I do not do this for glory or for fame. My only ambition is to correct the injury that was done in the past. No one forces me to do this. Believe me, it would have been far easier to quit long ago.” He gazed into her eyes fiercely. “The tree is not destroyed yet. I know it is not, because I still share a connection with her. She is in peril. I can feel that. She is surrounded by enemies. But if we go to her now, and if we are detected, you know the Arch-Rike will destroy her in a hurricane of magic. He will use her against me. That is his nature. I will honor the sacrifice she made, though it pains me to my soul.”
Phae stared at him, overcome with grief. “So he will kill her tree for certain if we go?”
Tyrus nodded. “I believe so.”
Phae crumpled and sat down on the floor, all her energy gushing out of her. “How can I know this is even true then? Your excuses are believable, if not convenient.”
Her father laughed bitterly. “The truth isn’t often that way, I’m afraid. However, I propose an alternative.”
She licked her lips, her heart too heavy to speak. She shrugged.
“There are others aiding in this quest. One is a young Druidecht, not much older than you. He is the son of Merinda Druidecht who I mentioned before. He protected a Dryad tree in the woods of Silvandom and earned her trust. She could teach you about your heritage.” He reached out and drew a circle on the dirt floor with his finger. “Would that help convince you?”
Phae folded her arms over her knees. “I’ll think about it. I am so tired, Father. So very tired.”
“Get some sleep,” Tyrus said. “We will have little rest in the days ahead.”
Phae stretched out on the hard-packed floor, using her cloak as a pillow. Waves of weariness crashed down on her. Her entire life was hanging askew. Voices murmured in the stillness. She heard the prince speaking softly. Tyrus muttered a response. Her mind grew thick like churning butter. She tried to listen, but felt herself drifting farther away.
Then she heard the Kishion speaking to Tyrus. His voice was low, as it always was, but she felt the words cut through the veils of sleep falling over her.
“I will not let you force her to do this. She must choose it.”
Daylight came through the uneven slats in the cellar door and Tyrus beckoned her to follow him up the ladder. Phae climbed the ladder outside, feeling her muscles ache with fatigue. The air was sharp and cold and she shivered, hugging herself for warmth as little puffs of mist came from her mouth. The old man, Evritt, greeted them from the porch with a small cauldron of porridge to stave off the chill. It was amber with honey swirls and tasted delicious. Fruits and nuts accompanied the meal along with water from a rain barrel on the far side of the cabin.
The prince practiced some strange morning ritual, standing stock-still, knees bent and legs flexed, his arms crisscrossing in a pattern of maneuvers that looked menacing. He rarely moved his legs, other than to shift the stance occasionally, as if his feet were slowly sinking into the earth. The motions were intriguing to watch and she studied him as she ate the porridge.
Tyrus conferred with Evritt on the porch, discussing someone named Hettie, a girl who had worked for him for some time. Not understanding the conversation, Phae abandoned the empty bowl and started to wander around the secluded grounds, exploring the various benches, curing sheds, and fire pits that had developed over time. Even a small stream trickled nearby and she went to find it, seeing a strange black-masked animal washing something in it with its paws when she arrived.