Starsinger

Coming Clean

By late morning the clouds had boiled over into rain. Navigating the slick mountain terrain was risky, but they couldn't slow down. Just like owls, the great horned avians' feathers were not waterproof – this was their one chance to get away.

Only when night fell did Jace call for a stop, and Sapphire spotted a rocky overhang under which they could take shelter. Three immense slabs of red stone pierced up from the sloping ground, crossing like swords to shelter them from above. Grey-blue vines dug into the rock and hung down over the gaps between the rocks like lacey curtains. Discrete, dry, and defensible.

The first task was dealing with their sopping wet things. Their packs had been sealed with river clay to prevent water damage, keeping what spare clothes they had relatively dry. Jace forbid the lighting of a fire, so they hung soaked shirts and breeches over rocks. Despite her protests, Raelyn was wrapped in three layers of bed furs to ward off the cold. Aaron unearthed a slightly soggy mass of dried fruit and flatbread. They ate in shivering, dripping silence as their eyes adjusted to the wet dark. An air of mourning draped thickly over them.

"We'll travel in the daylight when their vision is worst," Jace said when their sparse meal had at last been packed away. "If the gods are good, this rain may last for a day or two. Gauging the distance we marched from that stream, I'd say we're close enough to the northern pass to get out of these mountains. We should only be a few days out from a trading village."

"But for now," said Aaron, "It's time for some answers."

Jace blinked at Aaron in surprise. Aaron was a watcher, an observer, someone who avoided confrontation. That was Jace's area, usually.

Aaron felt his friend's gaze, but fixed his own on Raelyn, huddled in her furs, and Sapphire sitting stock-still beside her. I've watched long enough.

Raelyn stared back with tired eyes. "What do you want to know?"

"Everything."

"Alright."

Sapphire's brow furrowed. "Raelyn—"

"No. I'm done with this charade. That's mother's style, not mine. Gavran is dead and if there's anything I could have done differently to stop it—" Raelyn's voice broke. She composed herself. "I'm through with secrets."

Sapphire shrugged, her face a mask of indifference, but Aaron caught the tension in her shoulders.

"The assassin wasn't sent by Crolton," he said.

"He wasn't."

"What?" Jace burst out, but Aaron felt the puzzle pieces slotting into place. The First Whisperer, insisting Crolton had yet to develop the advanced magic necessary to break the barrier at Ellanoi. The mercenary laughing at their fears of Crollish interference. "You're still playing that old chess match?"

"Then who sent him?" Jace demanded.

Raelyn shut her eyes. "We don't have any confirmation. But the assassin, the Raven, seeing what he could do, his solid black eyes... My mother was right. That's dark magic at work. Fatemonger magic."

Jace stared at her in controlled disbelief. "The fatemongers died with the Division."

"And like all living things, they've been reborn. This mission was never about the war – at least, not the war you've been fighting. The queen never believed that the assassin sent to kill me was a Crollish agent. Crolton's army has been dabbling with magic, it's true, but our best intelligence suggests they're still bumbling around with basic heat and light spells. Nothing that could allow an assassin to slip unnoticed into the palace, or disappear into thin air."