Palace of Silver (The Nissera Chronicles #3) - Hannah West Page 0,11
a warning.”
I worried my lip. We had restricted Ambrosine’s use of magic to a brief list of approved spells and enchantments. She could brighten her elicrin stone to see in the dark, test her food and drink for poison, shield herself if someone tried to hurt her. The enchantment we placed on her stone before she departed would alert us if she tried to use it for anything else.
“Could she defy her probation?” I asked. “Without using unsanctioned magic to remove the restrictions?”
“You mean…without using dark elicromancy?” Mercer asked. “Do you think she would?”
“Devorian has already shown a proclivity for forbidden magic. My siblings and I are ‘contumacious and curious,’ as our governess used to say. I wouldn’t be shocked if Ambrosine had found a way to break her probation.”
“I don’t know.” He pursed his lips. “I wish I could tell you more. My visions don’t always—”
“Yes, I know, they’re minimally helpful, quite persnickety, and getting worse every day.”
Mercer grunted out a laugh. “Fair. Do you trust me enough to go merely because I’ve asked?”
I slid a skeptical glance his way, pretending to consider, before rolling my eyes in resignation. “Yes. Why can’t I use Valory’s portal box?”
“She hasn’t returned from answering that mysterious call for help. She’s so confident now that she just…left last week without telling me where she was going. I’m beginning to worry.”
“Worry? About Valory Braiosa?” I asked.
“Believe it or not,” he admitted.
“She’ll be back soon. And meanwhile, when I get seasick, I’ll be thinking of you.”
“As long as I’ve appeased my visions,” he said, rising to his feet.
“What about the Realm Alliance meeting?” I asked, pushing myself up after him.
“Send Devorian in your place. He’s wised up since he wreaked havoc on the realm.”
“But I may need him as a translator. My Perispi is stale.”
“You’ve bragged before that your Perispi is impeccable.”
I scowled.
“Are you that desperate for a reason not to go?”.
“You know what happened there, don’t you?” I asked, my voice a little hoarse. “My parents?”
Mercer nodded solemnly. His broad hands rested on my shoulders. “But King Myron executed the murderers. He promised that Perispos would leave its superstitions about elicromancers in the past. Isn’t that why he wanted to marry you or Ambrosine? To symbolize that his kingdom no longer held any prejudice against our kind?”
“Yes, but we haven’t exactly sent our best.” I kneaded my temples. Just a moment ago, I’d longed to flee far from the palace in Pontaval, but now I only wanted to return to my bed and sink into it like a sugar cube melting in warm tea. “What if I find that Ambrosine has somehow worked around her probation? Isn’t it better if Valory goes when she’s back, to confiscate Ambrosine’s elicrin stone if needed?”
“You agreed—we all did—that Valory should wield her power over others as seldom as possible,” Mercer said, dropping his warm hands from my shoulders. “If she goes to Perispos, it will provoke unease and alarm. If you go, it will look like nothing more than an overdue family visit.”
“I suppose I could bring Perennia with me to ease the tension. Ambrosine adores her as much as I do.” I crossed my arms and turned a flat expression to the snowy mountain spines snaking off into the distance. “Perhaps a voyage will cool my people’s anger—as long as they don’t think I’m absconding.”
A dimple hollowed out in his right cheek. “You, running away from a fight? Never.”
I gave him a wry smile. “I’ll throttle you if you’ve sent me to Perispos over nothing. Give my best to the others.”
“Stay safe.”
In a whisper of wind, Mercer was gone.
The solitude was less alluring than it had seemed moments ago, and the enduring tower a great deal more ominous.
FOUR
GLISETTE
PONTAVAL, VOLARRE
THE next morning the courtyard was almost shockingly quiet. When I’d returned, Hubert reported that the riot had been “handled.” Out of fear of what that meant, I posed no further questions.
But now, as the soles of my silk slippers whispered across the stones, I wondered what might have happened to the boy who had been yanked from his perch by one of my armed defenders.
“My father enjoyed traveling to Perispos before he lost his ships in the wave,” Larabelle said, cradling a hefty tome as she and Devorian waited to see us off. “He used to bring gifts like black truffles and olives and beautiful paintings. They were such treats for my sisters and me.”
I had tasted black truffles and olives brought from Perispos, and I cared