steady gaze, his uncompromising words, they compelled her, the same way they always did, as though his magic were there, digging into her skin, drawing her closer. It was why she hadn’t wanted to see him. She was worried he'd pull her back into his web, just like he was doing.
Cassi searched her thoughts for the plan she'd come up with, all the arguments she’d been ready to make, all the reasons she'd so carefully outlined in preparation for this very conversation. All of them were gone, cowering in the shadows beneath her king's glorious might.
"What if—" She swallowed and blinked, trying to focus on the skies and the grasses and the stones, on anything except Malek and the power he still held over her—the power of being the only person alive, except for maybe her mother, who truly knew her.
You are a weapon. My weapon. To be wielded any way I choose.
That was what he thought of her.
That was all she was.
What if she made him think that was all Xander was as well? What if she put his life in terms her king might understand?
"What if we can use him?" she finally said.
Malek pressed his lips into a thin line, but said nothing.
"Before I came to visit your dreams, I overheard a meeting between Xander, his mother, and his captain of the guards. They fear for his safety, and they've devised a plan for his protection. They're sending him to the House of Wisdom."
Lightning flashed across Malek's stormy eyes. He was undeniably intrigued.
"I'm certain I can convince him to take me along," Cassi continued, words spilling out as a new plan came together. "I've been there in spirit, but never in body. There are rooms there with texts older than the isles themselves, from the time of the prophecy. I know. I've seen them. I've lurked over the shoulders of scholars as they've tried to decipher the old language. If I came as the guest of a prince, no one would suspect me. I could sneak in. I could copy the scrolls. I could maybe even bring you one. There might be information we could use against the dragons—knowledge we've lost to time, knowledge that the owls don't even realize they've preserved, knowledge only magic can access."
"What makes you think I don’t have a spy in the House of Wisdom already?"
"Do you?" she asked, fully aware of the answer. "There's a reason I was given owl wings before I was deposited in the world above. I couldn't be a dove, because I needed to stand out enough for Lyana to take notice. But why an owl? Because I needed to be an orphan with nowhere else to go. If I'd been any other bird, my house would've taken me back. The owls are the archivists, patrons of Meteria, the god of intellect. Every child born in their house is recorded. The life of every citizen is carefully logged. No one steps into or out of their underground metropolis without their rulers knowing. So a strange owl girl showing up in the House of Peace was cause for alarm, not pity. They knew, they’ve always known, there's something not quite right about me, which is why they let the doves keep me, and why you've never been able to sneak any other child into their house."
Malek stared at the clear sky, at the sun shining overhead, at the floral tapestry splayed out before him, vivid colors the likes of which his waking eyes had never seen. He stared and stared and stared, studying every detail, until Cassi thought she might go mad. Then she remembered that she had control here.
With a single thought, the plains disappeared, replaced by stone walls without windows or doors, everything gray except for the single flame burning overhead to light the room. Her king stood opposite her, staring into her eyes as shadows danced along his cheeks.
"I can use him, Malek."
"And when you're done?"
Cassi didn’t have an answer. Malek stared as she dropped her eyes. In the silence of the prison she'd spun, he circled her, steps echoing against the stone. It took all her focus not to let the forests of the House of Whispers rise around them, to keep the blood from staining her clothes, from coating her hands, to keep the memory of that fateful day at bay.
When he came to a stop before her, he slipped his index finger under her chin, forcing her face up. There was a time