As for Harryn Stormblade, the news of the Last War and the fall of Galifar was a great blow. But he believed that the kingdom would rise again, and given his experiences in Droaam, he was likely to see Breland's claim in a positive light, which was exactly what the Citadel wanted. If and when the war began anew, having the Shield of the Crown as Boranel's champion would be a powerful propaganda tool. The challenge, of course, would be to keep Harryn from realizing just how he was being used. For the moment, he was a handsome and upstanding man, he owed Thorn a considerable debt, and they had a week's wagon ride to Graywall ahead. She looked forward to seeing what developed.
But all of these-drinking with Sheshka, sparring and joking with Harryn-were just ways to ignore the things that were truly bothering her. So much about that final day made no sense. Clearly, Sora Teraza had known about Drul Kantar's plot. Presumably, she'd known that this would result in the failure of the summit. Had she truly withheld this information from her sisters? Or had Sora Katra known how things would turn out from the very beginning?
And the ring. Never a gift at all. After dwelling on this, Thorn had no doubt: her enhanced senses had nothing to do with the ring. Even with the ring in the palm of her hand, her eyes could still pierce the deepest shadows, and she could feel the slightest shift of the wind against her skin. Both Zane and Steel had told her the ring was the source of this power. She'd received the ring before she'd crossed paths with Steel, so perhaps he knew as little as she. Or perhaps both of them were lying to her. Why? What was happening to her?
And what of the dragon?
After waking up in the mud, she'd pushed the battle from her mind, forced herself to complete her mission. Part of her wanted to believe that it had simply been a moment of madness, some strange effect of the tower of Drulkalatar. No one had seen her change; perhaps it was just a strange living nightmare. But as much as she wanted to believe that, she knew it was a lie. For a moment, she'd been a dragon… and it had felt so natural, so true. The feel of fire flowing from her throat, of her wings spreading around her-it was more real than any dream, and every time she thought back to the battle, she felt small and empty.
Sarmondelaryx, the demon had said. The name from her dream, and one she knew from stories. The Angel of Flame, a terror from the dawn of Galifar. But what did it have to do with her?
Whatever had happened, it might as well have been a dream. She'd tried to become the dragon again. She'd even picked a fight with an ogre, to see if it was something triggered by combat. She had no success. Perhaps it was just madness, the crystal shard digging into her brain. But she was haunted by the memory of fire flowing through her vein, and the recognition in Drulkalatar's eyes when he looked at her.
What is it like to swim the river twice?
She felt a thought pressing its way into her mind, and she let it in. She felt the mental signature of her handler, Zane.
Thorn-Situation in the Eldeen. Griffin and provender will be waiting at Twilight Palace. Expect immediate briefing and transport.
Too many mysteries filled the world. Too many unanswered questions. But she had a job to do. A country that needed her. And perhaps, she'd find her answers along the way.
"King and country," she said, passing her hand along Steel's hilt.