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“Pretty sure she’s spent the last week or so cataloging every one of my missteps, given how quickly she listed them.”
“Do not laugh,” I warn Xaden, fighting off another tide of dizziness.
“The best leaders are the ones who never want the job.
“There is no cure for me.” He presses a kiss to my forehead. “That’s why you have to become better than me. There’s only you.”
It could be a trick of the moonlight, but I’m pretty sure the sand is black. Power ripples through me and energy crackles along my skin with about half the intensity that it does in Navarre. We’ve found magic. And more than there was on Zehyllna, too.
“We are at the southern tip of an island chain of volcanic formations,” he answers from high above us. “It does not match anything on the map, though there is another mass of land an hour’s flight due west with what appears to be sizable cliffs.”
“I bought enough itching powder to fill a bucket, then dropped it between his scales on the back of his neck right after flight maneuvers a few weeks ago. He had to submerge his entire body in the river to avoid everyone in the Vale knowing I’d gotten the best of him.”
“I am busy with curmudgeonly things.”
The one diagonally to my left lifts their head. “She is the criterion.”
I’ve seen things he never will, touched pieces of history he didn’t know existed. Just like my father.
“Maybe I fell for the wrong—” “It would be a shame to kill my last living relative.”
“Wait for the last second so you don’t embarrass us.”
“It would take a great deal more than a change of posture to dishonor me,” he replies.
“What else?” His heart starts to pound beneath my fingers.
“When he dropped me, I had this second where I thought about channeling from the earth, and when I looked down…” My gaze slides to his relic. “I had a relic on my left wrist, right where yours all start. And my hand didn’t look like mine. Now that I’m thinking about it, it looked like…yours.
“You’re not worried about losing it?” “That used to be my worst nightmare, actually,” she says, staring down at the miniature. “Until I lived through losing them.”
“Heretic! You are not welcome here,” she shouts, her voice breaking with a rasp.
Theophanie was a priestess of Dunne. Her silver hair matches the attendants’ on Unnbriel…matches mine—