She nodded toward the dark wall. "What you've obviously just discovered. He's the one who first found the carving in this cell. We believe the engraving is Risha's prophecy."
I arched a brow. "We?"
"Captain Tenger and I. We've studied every line, every word."
Simon folded his arms, obviously still skeptical. "How nice that you and Tenger had these conversations without me."
"You weren't supposed to be here, Simon! When could we have told you all of this?"
He shrugged. "Oh, I don't know. Maybe anytime today, or yesterday, or the day before that. Maybe five minutes before we had to drag this information out of you!"
"How do you interpret the lines?" I asked, hoping the question would avert the fight Trina and Simon were otherwise on the verge of having.
She sighed, obviously grateful for the distraction. "The first three lines mention the people who will be involved in Endrick's death: The Infidante, the new ruler of Antora, and Endrick himself." Which was roughly the same interpretation Simon and I had.
Trina continued, "Our best guess for the final line is that all three people have someone to fool. Maybe the whole country. Maybe a single friend." Her eyes roamed from me to Simon. "Or more than a friend, perhaps."
I wasn't taking the bait. Instead, I asked, "What's your role in the prophecy?" Trina opened her mouth to protest, and with an irritated sigh, I added, "Obviously, you believe you have a role."
Trina hesitated, then said, "My role is to find the Olden Blade, to set the prophecy into motion."
Her motives couldn't be that simple, or that pure. "For Tenger? So does he want to be the Infidante, or the king?"
"Tenger never reveals all of his plans to us." Trina looked over at Simon. "Tell Kestra that. He shares the least amount of knowledge that he must, to limit our risk to any mission."
If Simon heard her, he didn't respond. Instead, he was digging at the rock with his boot, maybe giving himself something to do in this cramped space. Surely he was frustrated to realize Trina knew things about Tenger's plan that he did not. Or that Tenger clearly had trusted her more than him.
"I have to succeed," Trina said. "If I don't find the Blade, I will be nothing to the Coracks." And from her tone, I knew that much was perfectly true.
No wonder she seemed so desperate, so worried that all their efforts might end in failure--and mark her as the architect of that failure. She had bet everything on this mission succeeding, and I was the last hurdle in her way.
As clear as Simon's and Trina's emotions were, my own were a mystery. Too much had happened today, too much had changed.
Worst of all was my father's collaboration in a plot to kill me. I should have been angry about that, furious and vengeful, but I wasn't. Instead, I was simply ... empty, as if the part of my heart that I had reserved for Henry Dallisor was dead.
My anger was instead targeted at Lord Endrick, who had never viewed me as anything but a pawn, a sacrifice he was glad to make to expand his power. And what of Basil, who had agreed to such a dark plan? My feelings for him weren't so much anger as they were a single-minded desire to introduce him to Antora's largest catapult.
From the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of Trina. What did I feel for her? Sympathy, perhaps? She had struggled to find a place with the Coracks because of her father, just as I had never found my place as a Dallisor. Even if I disliked her, I could at least understand her, pity her.
But I wouldn't help her. Twice now, she had carefully avoided the question of Tenger's true motivations for wanting the Olden Blade. The idea of him as either Infidante or king was unacceptable.
Before I could allow the Blade to fall into anyone's control, I had to know who would ultimately take it. Because as bad as Lord Endrick was, I would not help one tyrant replace another. I would not have that blood on my hands.
"Enough of these suspicions," Simon finally said. "Trina, you should have told me the truth before, but if this is it, then I can live with it. The only way we'll ever get the Blade, and get out of here alive, is if we trust each other. Can we agree on that?"
"Agreed," Trina whispered.
They stared at me.
Trust Trina? Was he serious? She still had not told us the full truth. Surely Simon knew that too.
Trust him. Did I trust him?
My feelings regarding Simon were more confusing. He was a Corack, had threatened my life, and still held Darrow's and Celia's lives in his hands. He wasn't here for my well-being or safety, only to do what was necessary to ensure I located the Olden Blade. Once he had it, he would leave.
But he had also spent the past few hours with me in this cell, knowing my fear of such a tight, dark space, pulling me into his arms and promising to keep me warm and safe. He had hated watching me eat dinner with Basil, and had seemed genuinely concerned when Endrick had worked his dark magic upon my neck. He'd brushed his fingers over my cheek when he thought I was asleep, as tenderly as he'd touch a rose petal.
I didn't know how I felt about that, because I no longer trusted anything I felt about him. Except one feeling, something coming from the deepest part of my heart, and creeping in on me despite my best attempts to pretend otherwise.