Ianca’s reedy voice stalls my reaction.
I remain frozen as her poking hands fumble for my ring finger. Her fist clamps over it, squeezing hard enough to draw my wince.
“So much agony!” she wails into the darkness, on the verge of sobs. “Centuries of suffering by his will.”
My heart hammers. “Who suffers?” I dare ask in a whisper.
“The key caster.”
Me?
A second later, Gesine’s light globe sheds light on the wagon’s interior, just bright enough to allow shadows. Ianca’s eyes are closed, her wrinkled thumb rubbing back and forth over the white stone of my ring. She’s muttering under her breath, the words incomprehensible. She’s speaking another language.
I seek out Gesine.
She gives an almost imperceptible headshake, then puts her finger to her lips.
“Tempt the fates, you get what you get. Tempt the fates, this is what you get.” Ianca tsks. “What a poor, forlorn soul. Hanging in eternity, but only for a second. A cruel trick Malachi plays.” Her breathing is ragged, wheezy. “But that’s the only way his flaming-haired demon will come to him.”
My scalp tingles with familiarity. My father said something similar, and I’m sure he was talking about Sofie.
Ianca’s weathered face pinches as if pained. “Oh, he has found his skin and will prove a mighty and dreadful king. She will be his queen and have no choice in the matter. She doesn’t see it yet, but I do.”
I can’t help myself. “Who will be his queen?”
Ianca’s eyes open, revealing pale-silver irises that shine in the darkness. “Their laughter, it calls to you, doesn’t it?”
I falter, unnerved and unsure if she’s speaking to me. “Whose laughter?”
“You think you have choices, but you have none, child. None but one. I see it now, and it is so clear—”
The wagon door flies open with a noisy creak. Zander fills the entrance, his gaze dissecting the scene without saying a word.
“Such a powerful nymph.” Ianca releases my hand, the moment already faded from her thoughts.
Though far from faded in mine, my pulse racing.
She struggles to get up. “If only Ailill had one.”
“Had one what?” Zander frowns. “What does that mean? What does she mean?”
Gesine moves fast, guiding Ianca back to her bed. “Rest now. Go back to sleep.”
“No, she should explain herself,” Zander pushes.
“She cannot. That is plain to see,” Gesine snaps.
Ianca answers with a chortle. “Powerful, angry nymph.”
Gesine coaxes her to lie down, smoothing her hand over the seer’s forehead. In moments, she drifts off, Gesine’s mystery healing power effective.
Zander steps inside and pulls the door shut, demanding, “Shield.” The wagon’s ceiling is low, so he crouches, his severe gaze shifting between me to Gesine to Ianca’s still form, before settling back on me. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine.” I allow myself a calming breath, though Ianca’s words have rattled me. “And here I thought this morning’s wake-up was bad.”
“I’m sorry, I did not notice her slip away until I woke to her speaking,” Gesine says.
Zander smooths a comforting hand over my knee. “What happened? Did she say something important?”