a kind hand on my shoulder. “Faith,” he murmurs. “You cannot blame yourself. He knew the risks. He did it because he wanted to help.”
None of us are getting out of this alive. And Solat grinned at me like it was no big deal.
But it is a big deal. I look at Kerren, his kind face, and I wish I could save him. I wish I could save all of them, the men throwing themselves into battle at the gates, determined to push the Adassian army back by meters, as if that will make a difference somehow. As if that’s worth dying for.
I swallow hard and nod, forcing a smile to my face. “Thanks, Kerren.”
“Come,” the queen says, getting to her feet. She puts a hand to her rounded belly. “My son is staying with his nurse this morning. Let us go and see my court wizards and take a look at this spyglass they have made. If nothing else, it will be a distraction.”
We leave the room and our contingent of guards flank us from all sides. I half expect the queen to head to the dungeons or some deep bowels in the castle inhabited by monsters, but instead, we cross over to the far side of the keep, down a well-lit hall lined with chairs. I can see maps on the walls of a room that we pass—a war room, no doubt—and then we enter another chamber that opens up into a large, book-lined study with a kitchen-like alcove. There are bottles and books on every surface, and two men in tiny, wire-rimmed glasses look up as we enter. Immediately, I’m reminded of Omos’s monastery and a surge of homesickness wells up inside me. Strange how I’m homesick for that and not Earth.
“We are here to see the spyglass,” the queen says politely, folding her hands in front of her belly.
One of the wizards bows. He doesn’t look to be older than me, and the beard on his jaw is scruff more than anything else. “Of course, your majesty. We found the details of it in an old book. A curious invention, long forgotten.” With a swish of long, lavender robes, he moves to a table across the room and starts to pick through a clutter of objects. The other wizard continues to work at a table full of bottles, pouring one murky-looking liquid into a flask and frowning at it.
“Here we are,” the wizard announces, and holds out two leathery-seeming telescopes. “We took the liberty of making two based off of the plans, so both the queen and her guest might amuse themselves without having to share.”
Amuse ourselves? He thinks this is a fucking game? “This isn’t for a party game, Harry Potter,” I retort. “People are dying.” I take one of the spyglasses and examine it. There’s a thick, warped piece of glass at each end but it looks about right. “Cool the misogyny for a hot minute, please.”
“I did not wish to offend,” he stammers, handing the queen the other. “Shall I show you how it works?”
Oh dear lord. I bite back a sharp retort. “We’re good, thanks.”
“I…realize there is a war going on, my lady,” he says, inclining his head. “I did not mean to insult. If you both like, I can show you what else we are working on? The ancient tomes have provided fascinating information, and we are working on something I am confident the enemy does not have.”
“What is it?” Queen Halla asks, curious.
I toy with the telescope in my hands, impatient. I want to find a window and start looking for the spider symbol Solat promised he’d use as a signal. Maybe he was able to do it in time.
“The ancients called it Godsfire,” the wizard says, his eyes alight with excitement. “It is a liquid that burns through everything it touches, destroying with a few drops. The ancients would carry it in globes and throw them at the enemy army, turning them to char in a matter of moments.”
Her eyes go wide. I stop examining my telescope and look over at him.
“You made this?” I ask. “This grenade?”
He nods, all pride. “We’ve tested it in small ways, but a vial of it can burn down an entire tent. A full batch could destroy all of the Adassian army.” The wizard holds one vial up, and I can see the dark red liquid churning inside.
“Then make us enough to destroy their army,” the queen says.