“Okay.” I kept my voice low and soothing.
Only the gods knew why they’d given my mother visions that came randomly, usually about people she didn’t know. She’d once told me her power had been useful when she was younger, ensuring some of the wealthiest people in the kingdom came to her for advice on their marriage contracts and business dealings. But little by little, the helpful visions disappeared. Now, she was often left like this, shuddering on the floor in the aftermath of a vision she either couldn’t—or wouldn’t—understand.
Mama’s eyes closed as soon as she lay down, and I spent the rest of the afternoon sitting by the window, picturing Lina, alone and terrified in the back of a barred carriage. I would never forget that excited, hopeful grin she’d flashed. My eyes flooded.
She hadn’t even known she still had her power. So she hadn’t known to run. I scrubbed the wetness from my face.
“Prisca?”
Mama was lying in bed. Thankfully, some of the color had returned to her cheeks.
“Help me up, darling.”
I obeyed, helping her sit. My mother was losing weight. I needed to make sure she ate more at dinner tonight.
“That was a bad one,” I said quietly.
Her glazed eyes sharpened, and she nodded, reaching her hand up to cup my cheek.
“I love you so much. And everything I did was to keep you safe.”
My heart tripped at the way she looked at me. It was as if she was already in mourning.
“I know, Mama. Believe me, I know. Now let’s get you settled before Tibris comes home and fusses.”
She smiled. “He does so love to fuss.”
I helped her clean the sweat from her face, settled her at the table with a cup of tea, and heated some of the soup she’d made yesterday.
“I love you so much,” Mama murmured. “I just need you to know that.”
Whatever she’d seen in that vision had obviously shaken her. It wasn’t like her to be this emotional. “I love you too. Hey, what’s this? It’s going to be okay.”
A solitary tear trickled down her cheek, and I reached out with my other hand, wiping it away. She caught my hand in hers.
“You know you can’t stay here, Prisca.”
My chest hollowed out. For her to talk so openly about it…
I had obviously featured in her vision.
“What did you see, Mama?”
Silence.
I took a deep breath. “I know the plan was always for me to leave, but I have an idea.”
Mama just shook her head. “Whatever you’re thinking, it won’t work.”
The dismissiveness in her tone pricked at my temper. I couldn’t just give up and flee. If I ran, I would have to keep running for the rest of my life. How could I resign myself to such a fate?
I couldn’t.
I wouldn’t.
I would snatch at whatever hope I found, no matter how small that slice of hope was.
Kreilor had access to the oceartus stones. I could follow him to see where the entrance was. I’d pay attention to how he got in and steal a stone myself.
I sucked in a deep breath, and my words came out in a rush. “What if I could just store my magic in the stone temporarily? Until the Gifting? The assessor would see I had no magic, and I could—”
“Your magic doesn’t work like that.”
I stiffened. My magic didn’t work at all. Except at the worst possible moments. But this time would be different. It had to be.
Mama studied my face, amusement warring with weariness in her eyes. “You have your father’s stubborn nature. It will help you in this life—when it’s not making that life so much harder than it needs to be.”
Grief made my throat tight. I still sometimes woke up thinking I’d heard Papa’s voice. “It’s all going to be okay. You’ll see.”
She just nodded. But her expression was still forlorn.
When Tibris returned, Mama was sipping the soup I’d warmed for her.
“How was the feast?” I asked.
He gave me a faint smile. “Fine. Natan insisted on playing King’s Web.”
I rolled my eyes. Of course he did.
The game was based on myth. According to the old stories, the king’s great-great-grandfather was so sneaky, so sly, he slipped his people into foreign courts when they were children. Those children were unknowingly spelled and called “sleeping spiders.” When they were awakened, they were called to supply information or assassinate the old king’s enemies. I was still learning how to keep my face carefully blank, but last time we’d played King’s Web, I’d almost won.
I studied Tibris as he pressed a kiss to Mama’s forehead and took a seat at the table. The crease between his brows told me he was angry. And the paper clutched in his hand told me why.
Ever since Tibris’s friend Vicer had passed his Testing—with enough magic to be plucked from our village and sent to the city to apply for work, my brother had been even quieter than usual.
The letters he sent and received from Vicer were written in the same code we’d created as children. Back then, Vicer and Tibris had included me in all their plans, and I’d been privy to every secret note and hushed word. I’d trailed after them—usually with Asinia at my side—and Tibris had tolerated us with the put-upon sighs perfected by older brothers everywhere.
But these letters were different. For reasons he wouldn’t explain, Tibris refused to allow me to read them. Of course, the more secretive he was, the more curious I became. If Vicer was in trouble, I wanted to help.
I watched Tibris frown down at the letter in his hand. Now, he would likely brood for days. “I’ll go bathe.” He wandered out.
I attempted to get some answers from my mother one last time. “Mama…is there something I need to know?”
Water sounded from the other room. Tibris was filling his bath with cold water.
Mama would tell me if the king’s assessor was going to come looking for me. So what had she seen? Why was she so shaken?
Her eyes filled, and she shook her head mutely.
Seers had rules in place. Because sometimes, to tell someone their future was to bring about a fate that was much, much worse. Dread flowed into my gut and stayed there.
“I’m tired,” Mama said.
“Let me help you to bed.”
“I can do it. Good night, darling.”
I made my way back into the main room, which also served as Tibris’s bedroom. From the splashing coming from the bathing room, I knew he was still busy. But he’d left the letter from Vicer on the small, rickety table near his bed.
I shouldn’t. We weren’t children anymore. Tibris deserved his privacy. And yet…clearly, something was seriously wrong. It was my duty as his sister to help him—even if he didn’t particularly want that help.
Besides, my brother had no problem pushing his way into my life whenever he felt the need. He was forever trying to protect me, but maybe this time, I could actually help him for once.
I peered down at the letter, hands behind my back. But it had been too long since I’d last read our code, and translating it would take some time.
I did recognize one word, though.
“Prisca.” Tibris plucked the letter from the table and glowered at me.