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

If Ianca’s even still alive to speak at all. When Gesine wrote this message, Ianca was barely holding on. What a loss. The caster played a vital role in what has happened and what is to come. Her name will live on through the ages, as surely as Caster Farren’s has. I would have loved the opportunity to capture her seer visions for our scrolls.

“And what of this resurrected princess?”

“She is not who she seems.”

Allegra’s brow wrinkles.

Again, I curse the need to involve the Second. But again, Allegra has played an important role in our ability to communicate—both with Gesine in Argon and with our sources in Cirilea—for years.

Not without cost. In the rare occasion that the masters are called upon to vote, she always has mine, whether I agree with her stance or not.

Leading her into an alcove, away from prying gazes, I thrust the scroll into her hand.

She unfurls it, flips it over, studies it. “There is a tracer spell woven into this.”

“I’m not shocked. Gesine was always quick to learn things she wasn’t meant to.” But it’s a blessing because it also ensures our response to her will arrive where needed.

“Where is she now?”

“Traveling north toward Venhorn.”

“Venhorn. She still hopes to discover something at this Stonekeep.”

“She believes it is tied to this prophecy.” A more astute pupil than Gesine, I have never known.

With another perfunctory glimpse around, Allegra unfolds the letter.

I watch her eyes dart back and forth until they flare.

“A key caster,” she hisses, pausing to flash me a panicked look. “How is that possible? Affinities can’t be gifted, even by the fates themselves!”

“I do not know, but the king of Islor is aware.” Or former king. Gesine’s letter confirms that rumor of his exile is true as well.

“And yet he does nothing … because he is still infatuated with her. Of course, it is as Aoife meant it to be,” Allegra murmurs, still reading.

I don’t need to point out the line after, where Gesine declares this version of the princess is genuinely in love with her once betrothed.

Allegra gasps. “Gesine is sure of it?”

“‘She rose again as a Daughter of Many and a Queen for All,’” I recite the scripture word for word. “I do not know what other puzzle pieces Gesine has cobbled together since sending this message. It arrived by common carrier pigeon.” An exhausted bird with no affinities to aid in its travel, short of the one Gesine wove into the scroll to guide its path here. They were outside a city named Bellcross, heading north, when she got her hands on paper and coerced someone to send it. It’s likely been weeks since, and much may have changed.

“What is …” She frowns at the scribble hastily added at the bottom of the page, as if added in a rush. “Ulysede. What is that? I’ve never heard of it.”

“Neither have we.” I point to the drawing of two intersected crescent moons. “But the seers have seen that symbol time and time again. No one has ever gleaned a meaning behind it. This is the first time we can tie anything to it.” A single word. A name. What does it mean?

Allegra shakes her head, rolling the paper. “I do not like the idea of a key caster within easy reach of an Islorian king who is desperate to regain his throne. At what cost, Agatha? How long before this proves disastrous, and we are complicit?”

It’s not the first time Allegra has panicked since I’ve brought her into the fold. It takes effort and skill to weave webs. One slip, and she will surely find herself caught, along with the rest of us.

I pat her shoulder and feel very much the elder scholar comforting a student. “She is still very unskilled. Gesine is guiding her, but it could take months, even years, before she is a true threat. Regardless, whatever happens, it is in the name of prophecy. We cannot meddle.”

“It was Caster Wendeline’s meddling that got us here,” she reminds me.

“Or it is as it was always meant to be.”

She sighs, my words seeming to calm her. “You will prepare a response?”

“Right away. I will have it in your hands to send by tonight.” My history with Gesine reaches far back, to the days when I’d find her covered in dust and hiding in the scrolls, avoiding caster lessons. She knows my handwriting. Any author other than me and Gesine would withhold valuable information. But it is Allegra’s skill that will ensure my response reaches its destination.

Approaching voices have Allegra shoving the linen roll into my pocket. “And when will Alara be ready to join the rest of the elementals for her training?” she asks loudly.

“She has found her spark to Aminadav, but the one to Aoife escapes her.”

“You may as well send her to me, anyway. It seems I will have space soon.”

“As you wish, Second.” With a bow, I rush back to my underground haven.



“Will you finally find your answers, my dear girl?” I trace the swirls of scripture carved into the stone wall. Many thousands of years ago, the guild towers of Nyos were built atop a mountain of rock, honeycombed with caves that have since formed the scribes’ territory. The nymphs were already nothing more than a fable by that point, a bedtime story to tell children, and this wall existed among us and our daily lives, without explanation that many longed for. A bright and curious Gesine was one of them.

Footfalls scraping against stone warn me of an approach a moment before I hear the childish voice. “Master Scribe, you called for me?”

I break away from the mysterious scrawl. My pupil stands within the archway, her lengthy blond hair braided into pigtails. “I did, Alara. Pack your things. You will be moving to the elemental wing.”

Alara’s blue eyes widen. “But I thought I had to find my affinities before I could go there?”

“Normally, yes, but perhaps the Second can chase Aoife out of you where I have not succeeded.” I would have, given more time. The girl is only eleven.

“But … but … I want to stay here, with you.”

“What you and I want accounts for little.”

Her bottom lip wobbles, and I turn my back before she sees the tears that threaten. Alara came to Mordain as an infant and stayed in the village outside the guild towers as all children do until they begin showing signs that their affinities are rising. She has been in my charge for the past two years and should remain with me for at least another. I know better than to grow attachments to these children, whose time with me is so fleeting, but she reminds me so much of Gesine with her voracious appetite for knowledge. “Perhaps, if you focus on your studies and have some free time, you can come back to visit.” I feign to be busy with my focus on the nymph scripture. “Go on now. Get your things. Caster Joseph will escort you.”

“Yes, Master Scribe.” Her feet drag with reluctance, and a sob sounds before she is too far.

I allow myself a soft exhale. It is for the best.

“Master Scribe?”

I jump. “What did I say about sneaking up on me, Cahill!”

“I’m sorry. I wasn’t tryin’ to.” His deep adolescent voice is full of regret.

I calm my breathing. “What is it?”

He peers down the tunnel. “What’s wrong with Alara?”