“Apparently so.”
“In what way will you and the Ybarisan princess end the blood curse?”
“That remains to be seen. And while I have never subscribed to the prattling of seers, now that we know the fates’ designs are at play, it bodes well to heed their words. I would do anything to end this curse for all, you know that.”
Theon smooths a hand over his goatee. “And yet with each day come new reports of poisonings.”
“From what I’ve heard, the ones in Bellcross have all been false.”
“Aye. But people grow more fearful, waiting for the day they are not false.”
“And yet you haven’t announced support of Atticus’s decree.” I watch him closely.
“I haven’t. Not yet.” His brow furrows with worry.
“Because you know you can’t. Theon, it abolishes all laws that protect the mortals. You can imagine the abuse of power that will follow.”
“More than the abuse I’ve heard about? Do you think we are blind to what is happening in Kettling?” He sets his half-finished glass down. “Adley is still in Cirilea, maneuvering. He has all but declared his daughter Saoirse future queen.”
I snort. “Atticus would not be so stupid.”
“Was that a rhetorical question, Your Highness?” Abarrane asks.
Theon’s grim chuckles says he is thinking along the same lines as she is—yes, Atticus is, in fact, stupid enough to solidify his position by marrying that conniving creature. “I do not want to go down this dark path, but I do not see what other choice I have. Atticus sits on the Cirilean throne. It is his rule, not yours, that I must obey if I am to keep my lordship. And it’s not only Cirilea. Hordes of keepers are coming to my gate, demanding I address these distressing rumors. It won’t be long before they take matters into their own hands, and then what am I, except an impotent noble, unable to control his people?”
“You are in a difficult position. I appreciate that.”
“I know firsthand what it feels like to be targeted. Our tributaries haven’t left these walls in weeks. They’re afraid to eat or drink.” He swallows. “Did you know? About her blood?”
I could lie. Maybe I should. “I discovered it was toxic the night the daaknar attacked her, but I did not realize it was her blood that had poisoned my parents. Foolish in hindsight, but the priestess misled me to believe it to be deliquesced merth.”
“And yet you entrust another of these casters?” In his eyes, I see reproach.
“Not without reservations. But she is powerful, and I need her, so I will keep her close, for now.”
“And where is the princess?”
I hesitate. “Safe and out of sight, and not causing anyone harm. She has no intention of allowing her blood to be used as a weapon against Islor.”
“How can you be so certain? Come now, Zander.” He gives me a pitiful smile. “Do not tell me she didn’t realize what her blood could do when she crossed our borders. And we all know she was complicit in the attack that killed King Eachann and Queen Esma, despite that theater production in your court to convince us otherwise.”
“Also a necessity at the time.” I knew Theon would press me on this. “I will say this only once, and I say it because our long-standing friendship deserves the truth. The princess who left Ybaris had ill intentions. She deserved to die for her crimes and die she did.”
Theon’s eyebrows pop.
“The princess who travels with me now does so with a kind heart and no ill will toward Islor.” If only I could convince others to see what I see.
“And yet it may not matter. Atticus’s letter says there are countless vials of this poison in the hands of those who bear enough ill will to wreak havoc.”
“That is why we are heading for Venhorn. We believe they might still be there, and we’re hoping to stop them before too many vials reach the realm.”
He bites his lip as he seems to absorb that. “What do you ask of me?”
“Your support and your friendship.”
“Is that all?” He chuckles. “My friendship, you need never fear losing. My support will not be helpful to you when I lose Bellcross to Atticus’s wrath upon him learning you were here and I did not apprehend you. He has made it clear that any who aid you will be considered enemies of Islor.” He studies the tapestry on the wall for a long moment. “If you are going to Venhorn, you will need supplies that I imagine you do not have.”
His eyes graze over the clothing I procured in Freywich. “I will gather what I can and have men I trust escort wagons to your camp in the morn. Beyond that … my support will have to be my faith that you are acting in the best interests of Islor, and that you will prevail. And I do hope you prevail, my dear friend, because I fear what awaits us if you do not.”