Noam jerks forward, one hand jabbing threateningly. “You are not to breathe a word of this venture to anyone. There is no asking anything. No questions of keys or mystical barriers or the Order of the Lustrate. If anyone knows anything at all about these things and hears you speak of them, it won’t be difficult for them to figure out what we found.” Noam grinds his jaw. “Leaving at all is risky. If word gets beyond these borders . . . no. There has to be another way to open that door.”
Theron’s brows lift. He seems close to arguing with Noam, his eyes sweeping over his father’s face.
I step forward before Theron needs to say anything.
“Do you have a better idea?” I snap at Noam.
The Order of the Lustrate is out there. They exist; they wrote that book, they made the chasm entrance. They have to be out there still, or at the very least, there has to be someone in Primoria who knows them or remembers their teachings, and talking to someone would be infinitely more helpful than that mysterious book.
Maybe they can seal the door or tell me what their barrier did to my magic so I can get it under control—or even just reconnect my link to Hannah, so she can help me. However strange it was to have my dead mother in my head, she was useful sometimes.
“You want the door opened so badly?” I continue. “This is the only clue we have. Unless you’d like to go to Gaos and try running into the barrier. I know I’d prefer that option.”
Noam scowls. “Careful, Lady Queen.”
“No.” I curl my hand into a fist. “This is what you’ve wanted all along, and we found it. So we’re going to these kingdoms, and we’re going to find the keys or the Order itself or whatever we need to find.” I glance at Theron, hating myself for the half-truths I’m telling.
But he’s the reason we’re here at all.
“We have to at least try,” I say. And it isn’t entirely a lie—I do want to try. But to get answers, not open the door.
They don’t need to know that, though. Theron will go to these kingdoms—his passion won’t let him sit idly by, even if his father disagrees. And if Theron goes, I will too. I’ll be right there the whole journey, searching just as hard as him, and I will find answers. I’ll track down the Order, or I’ll find the keys before Theron does and in doing so, gain much-needed leverage over Cordell.
Theron seems appeased by my agreement. He looks at me with something like awe, and I shudder. He thinks I’ve changed my mind about wanting to keep the chasm locked.
Noam’s eyes fly over my face. His lips rise in a slow smile again, tinged with condescending amusement, like he remembered something that puts him back in control.
“You propose to visit Summer, Yakim, and Ventralli,” he says. “Didn’t a few Winterians recently return from such a visit?”
I shock myself by not reacting with anything but cool detachment. “What of it?”
“I’ve been told Yakim and Ventralli extended invitations to you. You already have a relationship with Cordell and Autumn—it will be expected for you to seek introduction to the world, and it will give us cover to search for the keys. And if nothing presents itself in Summer, Ventralli, and Yakim, you’ll continue to Paisly. We won’t leave a single kingdom in this world unsearched.”
Noam’s is the kingdom of opportunity. While Winter uses magic for strength and endurance to make its citizens the best miners in the world, Cordell uses its magic to make its citizens the best at analyzing a situation and coming out on top. That’s exactly what Noam has done—woven this into something advantageous to him.
My heart heaves disgust, the same draining sensation as when my magic is used. Like I’m not human, not important, just some toy to be played with at the behest of stronger things.
I may not be Cordellan, but I can manipulate a situation too.
“It would seem that Cordell needs Winter as much as Winter needs Cordell,” I tell Noam.
I’ll play along, you arrogant pig. I’ll pretend to be an obedient little queen until I can crush you.
But with what? I thought I’d have more time to arrange a way to break Cordell’s hold over us. I thought we’d at least have a Winterian army, even a small gathering of fighters. But even if everything works perfectly—I get the keys before them and find information from the Order about controlling my magic—I have no way of forcing Cordell out of Winter.
Or do I?
Because Noam smiles as soon as I finish talking.
“You’re quite right, Lady Queen. Cordell does still have need of Winter, and will until all payment has been issued. Speaking of—do we not have a celebration to prepare?”
I level a gaze at Sir, whose face rests in the emotionlessness he wears so well. He could be terrified or curious or any number of things, and I’d never know.
What I do know is that he didn’t help me at all. Either because he thought I could handle it on my own, or because he’s too shocked to intercede, I can’t tell.
“I will ready for the ceremony while you and the Cordellans make the necessary travel arrangements,” I tell him, eyes on him in a way I hope he understands.
Keep them here. Distract them.
Sir straightens. “Of course. King Noam, if you please,” he says, waving Noam to sit.
I exhale in relief and spin for the door before Noam can say anything else, before Theron can catch me and try to mend the tears in our relationship. I have travel arrangements of my own to make, ones involving our only other hope: our mines.