Page 61 of Daughter of No Worlds

Exactly what I’d thought he’d say.

But then, I thought of the way that he had agreed to train me after he heard why I was here to begin with. Of the odd urgency in his voice when he had asked me what Zeryth Aldris was doing in Threll, or when he pushed Via to tell him more about her weapons’ contracts. And I thought of how he had stood there in front of the Queen, what he had said to her — and the way he had jerked forward, as those spears dove for that man’s back.

I answered slowly, “I think no.”

He peered at me over his reading glasses, eyebrows arched. “You think no.”

“I think you are better than that.”

It took him a moment to respond with a quiet chuckle beneath his breath. He looked back down to his book and flipped a page as he said, “Well, thank you, not many people think so,” and we lapsed back into a quiet, comfortable silence.

Chapter Nineteen

Ihad one of my most vivid dreams yet that night. I awoke gasping, covered in sweats, the image of Esmaris’s sneer and Serel’s eyes burned into the pre-dawn darkness.

I threw the covers off my body, padded down the hall and out the front door, and practiced my magic until the sun crested the horizon. There was no time for sleep.

* * *

“I would liketo write a letter to Zeryth,” I said to Max in the morning. “How would I send it to him?”

Max placed his teacup carefully on the table before responding. “Zeryth Aldris, I take it.”

“Yes. He is in Threll.”

“Right. I do remember that interesting bit.” He narrowed his eyes, just slightly. “Well. If you know exactly where he is, you could try sending it to him with a Stratagram. Or you could send a falcon and hope the thing is able to find him before it keels over in the plains.”

So basically, he was telling me that I needed someone at the Orders to send it for me, since they were the only ones I knew who had any idea where in Threll Zeryth was.

“Why do you need to write to him?” Max stirred his tea far too casually.

“I need to find out what is happening in Threll, with my—” I wasn’t sure what to call Esmaris, or his estate, now that he was no longer my master and his home was no longer mine. “My friends.”

“You should talk to Willa. See if she can help.” Despite his helpful answer, his voice still held the unmistakable tang of disapproval. “How did you meet Zeryth, exactly?”

“He would stay at my—” I stumbled, but I had no other word. “— my master’s home when he traveled. We became friends then.”

“Your master,” Max repeated. “Is he the one who gave you those scars?”

“Does that matter?”

“I think so. Yes.”

A pause. I didn’t know who I was protecting — why it pained me to confirm it. “Yes, he did.” I watched Max pick at the wood grain of the table, his mouth drawn into a thin line. “You do not like Zeryth.” A statement, not a question. Max was perhaps the least-subtle person I had ever met.

“We have never gotten along. And…” A brief moment of hesitation. “He had the resources to have gotten you out, and chose not to.”

“It was not his for doing. He could not free every slave he met in Threll.”

I spoke casually, but the truth was, the first two times Zeryth came to visit, I dreamed that he would take me with him when he left. It took a few years for me to decide that my freedom would have to be my responsibility and no one else’s. I couldn’t fault Zeryth for not taking that upon himself, especially since he spent so much time teaching me and indulging my questions. Lighting that fire in my stomach was its own kind of freedom. At least, that was what I told myself.

Max shook his head. “That just isn’t what I would consider a friend.”

“You do not have friends,” I tried to joke, but Max shot his answer back with decisive intensity.

“I have one excellent friend who is far better than I deserve. And if Sammerin were in that position, I would never, ever allow him to stay there.”

His words slid between my ribs and twisted in my guts. In that moment, my mind was far, far away from Zeryth. No, my thoughts furled only around Serel. Around my mother.

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