Basil’s mind was in a similar place. “If Kestra stabbed Joth directly in the heart with the Olden Blade, then why didn’t it work?”
“Kestra was the Infidante tasked with killing Lord Endrick,” Trina said. “Only Lord Endrick. The Olden Blade contained his magic, not Joth’s. Every power that Joth acquired from Endrick probably was damaged when she attacked him, but according to Loelle, he has other powers too.”
“Endrick made the Olden Blade to keep himself immortal,” Gabe said. “As far as we know, Joth has not created any similar object. He’s learned from Endrick’s mistake.”
“Then we need a new plan.” Imri leaned forward. “Surely you have other ideas.”
“I don’t.” My voice sounded as hollow as I felt. “Nobody does.”
I stopped before saying what I really believed, which was that Joth’s defeat was impossible, especially with our few numbers and thin alliances. And I was no longer content to simply nip at his ankles in a petty rebellion. If we would continue to fight, it had to be for the purpose of winning. Which, as far as I could tell, had no chance of success.
“You have Rawk,” Harlyn offered. “He defended you against Joth during the duel.”
Loelle had examined Rawk following the duel, or attempted it. He had swatted his tail at her, which for a dragon was no small thing, then flown away. Loelle had assured me he would be all right, but he had no interest in the medicines of man or of magic.
I nodded, barely able to process what that meant for us, if anything. So I stood and said, “You all are welcome to talk for as long as you wish, and I hope you will come up with something useful. Thank you all, for everything you did today.”
I started out the door but, behind me, heard Gabe stand and push back his chair. “Hail Simon, my king.”
“Simon, my king,” Harlyn echoed, also on her feet, followed immediately by Trina.
Rosaleen stood as well. “Simon, my brother, my king. I suppose I have to be nicer to you now.”
I glanced back and smiled faintly. Beside them, Basil stood and offered his drink to me in toast. “Well, you’re not my king, but you are a king, and I know you will be a great one.”
Still seated, Imri folded her arms. “He is not a true king until he defeats that insolent brat now occupying the Scarlet Throne.” Then she looked up at me. “But when you do, and you will, you will be a great king.”
I gave each of them a grateful nod, then left the library. I didn’t go directly to my room but instead wandered out to Woodcourt’s yard and called for Rawk.
He was longer to arrive than usual, though when I inspected him for wounds, he appeared all right other than a small chip in a scale on his right side.
“Where do you go when you’re not with me?” I asked, then more to myself, added, “Where does anyone go when they are the last of their kind?”
Kestra had been the last of her kind too. I had never truly appreciated how that must have felt for her. I never had fully appreciated her. Time after time, she found herself in a position where she could not win, and she had always found a way through it. Always.
Until today.
Rawk’s patience seemed to be wearing thin. I had been trying to recall what I had intended by calling him to me in the first place. My only thought was that I wanted to go someplace where every direction I looked didn’t remind me of Kestra.
I climbed onto Rawk’s back and said nothing, neither aloud nor through silent communication. After a moment, Rawk flew us into the air anyway.
There was nothing specific I wanted to see, and indeed, nothing of any note caught my attention. I did notice a great number of loaded carts headed out of Highwyn, which was little surprise.
On the outskirts of Highwyn sat the two sentries, the enormous rock statues, one to welcome those who came, the other to bid farewell to those who left. Surprisingly, they gave me hope. They had been here before Endrick, survived the War of Devastation, and many battles between the Halderi
ans and Dallisors before that. They would outlast Joth as well.
As we continued, gradually All Spirits Forest came into view. Despite the winter elsewhere, here the forest was alive like springtime. Green leaves budded on strong tall trees, grass was growing, and the air was full of a perfume that I caught even as high as we were.
At my request, Rawk flew us down into the forest, landing near a small flowing river. I slid to the ground and began to wander among the trees, my senses taking in a place that for the first time in a generation was fully alive.
Eventually I came to a small rock home, bearing evidence of someone who had recently lived here. I entered and saw ashes in the fireplace, mice scattering from a table where food must have been, and, on a chair in the corner, Kestra’s cloak. The one she had been wearing before Loelle took her away from Nessel in the night.
Kestra had been here.
I picked up the cloak and held it in my arms, no longer fighting my grief. I nursed it until the sadness turned to anger at all those who had wanted her dead for no reason other than who she was, who we had all forced her to become. But when I looked inward, my anger grew. Hadn’t I been as responsible as anyone else?
I closed my eyes, imagining her in my arms again, and then hurting all the more because of how impossible it was. My anger was grief, and my grief roared like a tornado within me.