since that day. No one knows what to do. Where to go. All safe houses are compromised. Many won’t even take us in anymore because of the pamphlets the justice released, Dez’s picture with a red painted X over his face. The leader of the rebellion is dead. They circulated so quickly that Illan found out that way before we could tell him in person.”
I try to picture Illan in the forest the night before everything went terribly wrong. The thrill in his old features. How clever he thought he was finding out about the weapon that controlled Moria—used them—destroyed their magics. I imagine picking up that flyer. Seeing the likeness of his son’s face covered in what could be blood. The proud boy, the handsome boy who would charm the stars into shining in the middle of the day if he wanted to. The dead boy.
You were born serious, Dez told me, and I don’t know why out of all the things he ever said to me, that’s the one that keeps repeating in my thoughts when I least expect it.
I stare at my hands, one gloved, the other bare and more scarred than ever. These hands stole the lives of hundreds, including my own parents, but were rendered useless against Castian. How?
“How can they be finished?” I ask. “Illan is the one who sent us on the mission to find Celeste’s alman stone. He’s the reason we confirmed the weapon’s existence in the first place!”
“Black protocol is still in effect across all the Whispers’ channels,” Margo tells me. “The Moria in hiding will stay hidden. There’s nothing we can do. Not while the king and the justice have dispatched troops to all ports. Even if we wanted to sail to Luzou, or take our chances in the frozen Icelands, we can’t. Ships are being searched top to bottom. Even the empress’s ship. We are being chased to the ends of the world, and now we can’t even turn to the sea.”
I’ve never heard her sound so despondent, but I know I have to let her talk through this. I know when I’ve been the one like this, nothing anyone could say would make me feel better. After a long silence, I work up the nerve to speak.
“I haven’t given up, Margo. You haven’t either.”
“I thought that. When we were in the market,” Margo says, “we watched an olive vendor get arrested. All he was doing was resting with his cart on the corner of a street. I watched him beg for his life, but the guards simply rattled off what they usually say. That’s what they’re doing. Creating panic. It felt the same as the first King’s Wrath. I’ve spent most of my life fighting, but the only time I ever felt that helpless was when my family was killed.”
“How did you get into the palace?” I ask.
She looks with steady eyes that unnerve me. “A week ago. One of Illan’s informants sent word they needed new entertainment for the festival night.”
“You always were the best dancer.” Weariness aches deep in my marrow, but I remember how beautiful she looked in her festival dress. Even if she didn’t wear her true face. “Did you know the informant?”
“In a way.” Margo shakes her head. “It was the Magpie, though they only communicated through messages of where to go and the songs the king preferred.”
The Magpie who was supposed to help Dez escape. Someone with access to the prince, to the hidden places of the grounds, the court, the king. She has the freedom to come and go from the palace. My dear husband let slip . . . I breathe a sigh of certainty.
“What is it?”
“I’ve been here for weeks and I’ve just realized who the Magpie is.”
Margo cocks her eyebrow. “Well, they knew you. Asked us to come help you.”
“What?” Tears spring to my eyes. She knew all along. The shame of underestimating her hits me.
“Keep the spy’s name to yourself. I would not trust myself not to betray it under the right circumstance.”
She means torture. But I know that Margo would never reveal the name. Still, I will keep Nuria’s secret.
“It was risky, using my magics,” Margo continues, picking at a strand of hay in the mud. “But as long as the illusion is on me and not on others, it wouldn’t have such a strong effect.”
“That was reckless,” I tell her. That was something Dez would do.
“That was the only thing I could do to put