Silverkin

“I don’t want to send anyone else! If Thealos takes it and uses it and saves the Shae, just think what it will do! I will not give up Avisahn so easily to an upstart.”


“He would be your consort, not the king. That is the way we’ve both planned it. You can still have your kingdom, Laisha. He will be furious when he finds out you are sending Silverlock instead of him.”

Laisha gave him a level look. “If he is truly only interested in the safety of the Shae, he will accept it. He must accept it or risk facing a charge of treason again.”

Abtalion rose. “It’s your decision.”

She was confident now. So confident. How could he blame her when he had instilled it in her? But her stubbornness had deep roots.

“We’ll meet in the gardens in the morning to discuss our tactics for the Sunedrion.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.” He stopped at the table and touched a stud on the leather-bound book. Would the Foretelling happen regardless of what she chose? Was she testing that?

The thought made his bones cold.

Did the Mages of Safehome already know what was going to happen?





Chapter X





Thealos sat on a cushioned window seat in his room, deep in thought. Dawn had just painted the sky a blushing pink and highlighted dense thunderheads with orange caps. Rain trickled down the glass of the windowpanes despite the cheery colors, but it looked like the quick summer storm was already moving into the northern plains. He shifted his weight and folded his arms, watching the little squiggles of water streak down.

He thought about Jaerod.

Since returning from the Princess’ chambers, sleep had eluded him. Thoughts whirled and split and seethed in his mind. He was tired, cramped, and eager to be free again. Silverborne Palace was a gilded prison, but it was still a prison. Hunger to see his family gnawed at him every day. But the revelations from the archives in Avisahn were even more disturbing.

How much had Jaerod known?

Thealos was not ready to condemn the Sleepwalker as a liar, but there were issues needing to be reconciled. Abtalion had said that the renegades who called themselves the Mages of Safehome worshipped Shenalle, but that went against something that Jaerod had told him much earlier. Jaerod had said that he worshipped none of the Three. When Thealos mentioned the Sorian, Abtalion said nothing about them yet Jaerod insisted over and over that the Sorian were the reason Safehome existed. They were a power in the world to be challenged and brought down. Did Abtalion or Laisha know anything about them? He wished he had asked.

What about the Foretelling? Thealos had never believed his family name worthy enough to risk pursuing Laisha as a…a marriage prospect? Yet Abtalion intimated that it was already being considered by some. That thought alone sent tremors of fear and shock through him.

Marry Laisha Silverborne?

What man in all of Avisahn wouldn’t want to do that? Yet faced with the prospect etched into a five century-old tome, Thealos’ stomach lurched. He was the son of a barter. Granted, he knew a little court etiquette, but living under public scrutiny for the rest of his life was not a notion he found appealing. Would she even want him? Or would she choose him, after endless coaxing, because she was pressured into it? What sort of marriage would that make? He bit his lip as the anxiety bubbled up inside him again. The thought of marrying someone who did not love him made him feel…

Yet a marriage like theirs would change everything. It would change the entire history of the Shae. The royal houses would be mended at last, thousands of years after being broken.

Broken?

A thought stung him. Something Jaerod had said—to break is to be broken.

Was it time to heal what the Sleepwalkers—the Ravinir—had broken? There was some logic to that.

All along the way to the Shoreland, Jaerod had put Thealos in the position of leader. Thealos had been the focus for the mission to Landmoor. Was all of that a subtle preparation for what was to come?

Movement reflected on the window glass alerted him that someone was in the room.

Thealos spun around in time to see a little girl slowly shutting a wall-panel, leaving a little latch sticking out to keep it from shutting all the way.

“Lucyanna?” Thealos scooted off the window seat and stared at her.

The girl put her finger to her mouth and gave him an angry look to keep quiet.

She peered around the chamber and then walked towards him. Her footfalls made no sound at all—not even her dress swished. He waited for her to come closer.

When she stood near, looking up at his face, she opened her hand, revealing a small polished stone with a strange rune marking it. It had a faint smell, a hint of blossom, marking it as Silvan magic.

“This is the Whisper Stone,” she said, glancing at the main door. “No one will be able to hear us.”

“What are you doing here? How did you get in here?” He craned his neck and looked at the wall section.