Page 285 of Mother of Death and Dawn

Caduan’s body was found in Ilyzath—a place that now, as far as anyone could tell, was nothing but a stone building. The basement, where there had once been a strange sapling and a fragment of the sea, was empty, save for his body. Black veins spiderwebbed his entire body, including his face, though his eyes were closed as if he had simply drifted off to sleep. His hand was outstretched, as if he had been holding something, or someone.

Aefe was never found. Her body was gone.

I knew she had died. I felt that. It was the last whisper from a magic that had since disappeared. Max and I still had our natural Solarie and Valtain magics, respectively, but no longer had access to the strange, deep magic Reshaye had gifted us.

It stood to reason that Aefe’s body had disappeared, just as Nura’s corpse soldiers had. She, too, was a product of a magic that simply ceased to exist—and so, she ceased as well.

Whenever I thought about it, I couldn’t shake a pang of sorrow for reasons I couldn’t articulate. Perhaps because I knew what it felt like to be a ghost that left no mark on the world, even in death. And yet… she had left a mark, hadn’t she? She had made the hardest, bravest decision, and we all lived because of it.

For several tense days, the Arans and the Fey waited in tense anticipation. Everyone was afraid to even blink. Would the Fey think that we had murdered their king? Would they accept our offer of peace talks?

Finally, days later, Meajqa emerged as the de-facto leader of the Fey, and agreed to a discussion.

He looked so different now than he had the first time we saw him—locked up in the basement of the Towers in Nura’s laboratory, looking as if he was on the edge of death. When he sat down across the table from us and I got a good look at the horrific injury that had been inflicted upon his wing, I thought,Oh, no. We are going to walk out of this room at war all over again. He will never forgive us.

But, it turned out, I was not giving Meajqa enough credit. He was wary, yes, and distrustful of everything that we said. But he wanted peace.

He made that clear from the moment he sat down in this room with us. “I think,” he said, his accent like a rolling purr, “we have all lost too much already.”

Max and I wholeheartedly agreed.

Still, we talked in circles for several hours. What could we offer the Fey to show them that we meant no further harm? What could they offer us to assure us that they were not a threat? It was layers upon layers of double talk and doubt, until finally, I leaned forward and met Meajqa’s eyes directly. I allowed my magic to reach out to him—taste, however briefly, his emotions.

Exhaustion. Grief. Uncertainty. Just the faintest hint of anger.

But there was hope there, too. Hope that he might be able to lead his people out of this.

I knew every one of emotions all too well.

“I am going to be blunt, Meajqa,” I said. “I think that all of us want the same thing. But in order to get it, we will all need to learn to trust each other.”

The corner of Meajqa’s mouth twitched, and he lifted his chin slightly. “Ah, trust. So simple and yet so complex.”

The resemblance to his father in that moment was breathtaking. Max and I exchanged a glance, both struck by the same thing.

“You know…” This was a risk. “I knew your father well.”

Pain flickered across Meajqa’s face, consuming that smirk.

“He was a good person,” I said, softly. “I’m in debt to him. And he spoke very highly of you.”

I couldn’t quite read his expression—perhaps hiding a shard of anger, like he thought I was lying to him.

“I see why now,” I said, “having met you myself. The fact that you are even discussing peace with us, after what you went through… that is courage.”

He made a sound that was almost a scoff. “I am surprised, myself.”

He rubbed his eyes—he was clearly tired. We all were. It had been a long, long week.

Max stood and went to the corner of the room. He returned with a carafe of wine and glasses.

“Do Fey drink?” he said to Meajqa.

For the first time, Meajqa smiled—a sharp, rueful thing. “Oh, we drink.”

“Wonderful.” He poured three glasses and then distributed them to us. He raised his. “To surviving the week from hell.”

I took a sip. Max took a gulp. Meajqa drained half the glass.

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