A Queen of Thieves & Chaos (Fate & Flame, #3)

For what, though? I sense what Jarek and Zorya sense—that Gesine is looking for something specific. But if she hasn’t openly shared it, she must have her reasons.

“I’ve been building those wards like you taught me. I think I’ve got it.” Mainly on doors, using my affinity to Vin’nyla, the Fate of Air, to weave an impenetrable wall, stronger protection than any lock can provide. It took some practice. Four wooden doors lay in splinters from where Jarek kicked through before I finally mastered it. The last one, he crumpled in pain, confirming my ward was as hard as stone against his shoulder.

“You are picking things up quickly. And you don’t need your ring anymore.” She taps my bare finger where Princess Romeria’s engagement ring used to sit, a powerful ornament made from token gold from Aoife and a dull white stone, origins unknown, but rumored to be that of the nymphs.

“It served its purpose. I no longer have to mask anything.” My caster magic is a welcome buzz deep inside me, rather than the paralyzing noise it once was. And I’ve resigned myself to seeing Princess Romeria’s face when I look into the mirror, rather than the one I grew up knowing. “What should we work on next?”

“Building a flame wall, perhaps?”

My eyes narrow. “You already taught me that, remember?” Though I did it myself the first time, based on need.

She blinks. “You’re right, I did.” Her gaze drifts toward the endless collection of books. “I’m just so tired.”

“Then you should take a break. There’s nothing that important in here, right?” I try to keep the suspicion from my voice. She gets it from everyone else, she doesn’t need it from me too.

“I’m afraid there might be,” she says vaguely. “But it is too much for me to search on my own.”

“Zorya and Pan have been helping, haven’t they?”

“Yes, but it’s still not enough.” She shakes her head. “No, I need experts. Dozens of them.” She hesitates, as if building up courage to say her next words. “There are those who could use their affinities to better direct their search.”

“And where do you find those people, besides Mordain?”

She bites her bottom lip, and I know without her answer, that is exactly what she’s aiming for. Zander warned me Gesine would make this request, and when she does, it is to be a resounding no. After how badly Wendeline betrayed him, I can’t fault him for not welcoming more casters with open arms.

I can almost see the gears working in Gesine’s mind, searching for a way to convince me.

“That would mean telling them about Ulysede and how we opened the gate, which would mean explaining what I am.” A key caster. My very existence is an offense to them, punishable by death, as has been the case for two thousand years.

“I share your worries,” she begins slowly. “But I do not mean the entire guild—”

“Can you really control that, though?”

“The scribes have managed to thus far, with knowledge of Ianca’s summoning. For years.”

“That you know of. You haven’t been in contact with them in how long? Since before you escaped Argon? That was months ago. Everything has changed. So much is out in the open now.”

She bites her lip. “I trust the Master Scribe to involve only those who are necessary.”

“Well, I don’t.” And Zander won’t entertain this conversation. “The last thing we need is for Queen Neilina to find out I’m not her daughter and to tell those two hundred Ybarisans who are on their way here.” Hopefully. “She’ll order them to kill me. They can’t know I’m not Princess Romeria. We need them for when Telor’s army shows up. And what happens if your Master Scribe decides prophecy isn’t worth allowing a key caster to roam loose, let alone play the role of queen of Ulysede?” Play being the operative word. My voice escalates with my words as wariness swells.

“Prophecy has already foretold of the nymphs walking the earth again in the age of casters, and that means a key caster must survive culling. They are aware, even if they are not yet aware.”

“That doesn’t mean they’ll sit back and allow it. You said so yourself, not everyone in Mordain values prophecy.” I shake my head. “I’m sorry, Gesine, but it’s too risky. Protecting this secret is what has kept me alive for this long.” Even Zander would have killed me had he found out in those early days.

Her brow pinches with discomfort. “I suppose I should tell you, then, that it is too late. The wheels are already in motion.”

My stomach clenches. “What do you mean, it’s too late? What wheels?”

“The scribes will have heard the truth about you by now.”

“How? Who told them?” My panicked voice echoes through the cavernous library.

She peers up at me with unremorseful eyes. “I did.”





CHAPTER THREE




AGATHA


“Master Scribe, look what I can do!” Paityn holds up her index finger to reveal a tiny flame dancing at its tip, her giddiness radiating.

“Good for you. Show me again when it’s three times the size. And practice in a clearing outside so you don’t burn down the entire guild.” I force a smile as I pass my pupil in the hall, but I don’t slow, the scroll gripped tightly within my grasp. I should hide this letter I received—Fates, I should burn it—before someone discovers it in my possession, but Allegra will need it. Besides, if I know Allegra at all, she’ll demand to see Gesine’s words before she believes them.

I can hardly believe them.

A key caster from another realm in Islor, by Malachi’s scheming? In my almost eight decades of life, I have never heard of such a thing. The archives did not hint of it, and I would know. I’ve spent my life immersed within the recollections of seers and scribes alike, their considerable knowledge at my fingertips.

Yet here we are, and I must now decide how to proceed.

I wish I had no need to involve Allegra. The guild’s Second is too young and ambitious, her seamless skill with wearing various masks unsettling. She could rival Queen Neilina with all her cunning, and sometimes I fear I will find myself caught in a web of her making. It’s no secret that Allegra pines to one day climb to the role of Guild Prime. The lengths to which she’ll go to get there, though … those worries keep me staring at my ceiling into the late hours.

But of all the guild leaders within Mordain, Allegra is the only one who values the role of the scribes. The others mostly disregard us, both for our mediocre connections to our affinity and for the importance we place on our seers. We are the castaways, the ones with too little power to be of any real use beyond collecting knowledge and training the youngest casters on beginner skills.