Rasha nods toward Myles’s trembling hands. “Why is his body reacting like this?” Her voice so perfectly matches the Bron guard that it makes me wonder how much more powerful Myles’s ability actually is. Clearly I should be more impressed with him.
“You would too if you were 130,” Lady Isobel snaps. As if a soldier should not be questioning such things. “Soon he will have his life back and I will remove the thing that pains him.” She tips her head and speaks to the man she believes to be her father. “I will make it so you won’t feel her betrayal anymore.”
I frown. Betrayal? Whose?
My question is answered before I can ask by Princess Rasha. She mouths to me, “His wife’s.” Then aloud, “My apologies, m’lady, I was merely wondering how best to help him in this . . . state.”
Lady Isobel sneers down her nose at him. “He does not need your help, nor is doing so your concern. Keeping your men in line and preparing them for battle should be your focus.”
“Yes, m’lady.”
“How might I best keep him comfortable?” I say. “And how will I know when he is ready?”
She narrows her brow. “My father is perfectly capable of answering such fool questions himself.”
I look irritably at Rasha. She’s not giving us anything to work with.
“Humor the wretch,” Draewulf-who-is-Myles growls.
Isobel snorts and purses her lips before, after a split second, turning back to me. “The green around his eyes will be gone. Now why don’t you go finish looking over the battle strategy I submit—”
“What if the Elemental kills Draewulf first?” Rasha asks.
Lady Isobel’s gaze contorts in confusion followed by suspicion. “The Elemental is impotent. We’ve saved her for another purpose.” She starts to turn.
“But her new ability,” I murmur. “Rumor has it she’ll use it to try to free her trainer from your father before we land.”
She stops. “What did you say?”
I swallow. I’m sure she’s already aware of this part of our plan because Draewulf has to be, but it still feels awkward. Like maybe we’re showing too much.
Rasha retreats and dips her shoulders to make herself look smaller, humbler. “Forgive me, m’lady, but it’s something I heard them whispering of. That perhaps she could use the ability for this purpose.”
In the twitch of an eye Isobel swishes forward and wraps long fingers over Rasha’s guard tunic. “You know nothing of how our powers work, nor of why we had her take the new ability on. And you will learn to stay silent around me from now on if you wish to stay breathing. Is that understood?”
The guard-who-is-Rasha nods and is released by Lady Isobel.
I stand in shock as the lady dusts her hands together and Rasha gives us the slightest tip of her head. She’s read Lady Isobel as much as she can. It’s time to go.
But I can’t.
“How did you know the Elemental would take on the ability?”
Lady Isobel stops. “Pardon?”
“How?”
“My father’s quite good at guessing Uathúil nature.” She peers at Draewulf. Then closer at me. “Why are you asking?”
“What did you need it for?”
Lady Isobel frowns and backs up. I reach my wraith hand out and press it to her collarbone. She jerks back against the wall beside the closed door, but I don’t let her slide away. “What does the Elegy mean?”
“What—?”
“The Elegy,” I hiss.
“Stop,” Rasha says beside me.
“Let her ask,” Myles murmurs.
Lady Isobel lifts one single brow and crushes her lips in a mocking expression before lifting a hand and placing it over my heart. “You’d be wise to let me go.”
I lift a hand and place it over hers. And begin to pull the energy from her very bones.
She utters a cry and tries to pull away.
“Why is he taking the blood of kingsss? And why was Eogan first—why did your father need his block?”
No answer.
I pull harder along with the air from her lungs until she’s gasping and gaping, but I won’t stop until she tells me.
She looks at Draewulf again and her gaze flutters. She’s figuring us out. I tug harder until her face turns the color of ash.
“Stop.” Rasha grabs my arm. I shove it off.
“Read her,” I snarl.
Lady Isobel utters a cry. “He needed it to protect him when bonding with the other kings’ blood.”
A scuffling noise emits behind the door beside us. Before I can tell Myles to grab it, he’s wrapped his fingers around the knob and murmured up a mirage for the Mortisfaire inside. Of what I can’t tell—I’m too focused on Isobel—but it’s enough to stop them from coming out.
“Why does he need their blood?”
Lady Isobel’s hand over my heart is weakening, and if it’s done anything to me I can’t tell. I can only feel the hunger and anger and the need to know what else she’s not saying. I need her answers before I finish her off. Releasing her hand, I force my palm firmly against her chest. Just as I do, Myles’s fingers come up to grip my memorial scars. I start to pull away from him because what in litches is he doing while I’m trying to get answers? But then I feel it.