Page 165 of The Trials of Ophelia

As I dragged my finger around the leather edge, I considered. Lucidius had known there was something in Firebird’s Field. Perhaps he didn’t know what, but somehow, he’d uncovered a secret. What else had he explored?

Flipping through the pages, the crackle of the flames filling the air, I skimmed his script. It was hard to decipher. How had Malakai and Barrett been doing this for weeks?

I found the entry about what we had figured out was Firebird’s Field and skipped to a few pages past it, skimming to see where the mention of burning flowers ended. Eventually, it faded to long-winded musings about light-speckled skies and temple art.

“Starsearchers,” I mumbled to myself as I picked apart his words. That was an emblem we did not have yet. My fingers toyed with the corner of the page, restless with possibilities.

I nestled back into the couch, tucking my knees up.

I was a few paragraphs in, my tea already growing cold, when I froze.

Breath of lungs restored it a magic alive like the others and pulling at the threads of heart?—

“Alive,” I murmured.

Malakai had said Lucidius had become fixated on this concept of living magic. Though we couldn’t know what our former Revered meant exactly, the sensation of Kakias’s power crawled through my memory. The sentience of it, as if the queen’s magic was a breathing thing.

“Breath of lungs…” I traced the words in his looping, slanted script. I’d heard those words before. Where?—

Starsearchers.

Vale.

My thoughts were like stampeding horses in the quiet room, galloping toward an idea.

I slammed the journal shut and tore from the cabin.

“Ophelia, why in Bant’s name are you taking us here?” Barrett asked as I tugged him and Vale after me into the infirmary tent.

“Because we need to find Santorina,” I said, searching along the rows of cots, some occupied, some with sheets stained with blood, and some freshly changed, awaiting their next patient. Healers rushed through the space, a rustle of activity that had me walking quicker.

“And what good will finding Santorina do?” Barrett wrenched his arm from my grasp, but kept following.

“Ophelia, we really should be packing,” Vale said, untangling herself from my grip much more gently than the prince.

“No, trust me—ah!” I spotted a long dark ponytail and took off running past curtains and warriors toward the back corner, where a workstation and shelves of supplies were tucked away. “Rina!”

She looked up as I skidded to a stop across from her table. “Yes?” she asked, warily eyeing all of us.

Barrett shook his head at her, Vale shrugging with wide eyes.

“Do you still have those ingredients Gatrielle and Esmond were finding for you?” I rushed out.

“Do I—well, yes, I saved them. Why?”

“Did I hear our names?” Esmond asked, coming around the corner of the nearest curtain.

“Yes!” I burst, looking between the three healers, excitement bubbling beneath my skin. “You collected elements of sacred land, correct? Rina was going to try to use them to get the poison from my arm.”

“We did.” Esmond crossed his arms, brows raised.

“I found what I could in our territory and the mountains,” Gatrielle added, brushing his curls back from his face. “Mainly known sites of worship.”

“And you thought they could be used to unwind the poison from my blood—what if it can be used to reverse the entire ritual?”

A stunned silence met my idea.

Then, a boisterous laugh burst from Barrett. “Reverse the ritual, and make my mother mortal.” His smile widened. “So we can kill her.”

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