On the fifth day, she watched and counted: twelve seconds after the squirrel shimmied up a tree, a robin landed on the grass, strutted in a circle, plucked a worm from the ground, and flew to a low branch of the same oak.
This brief performance repeated itself every morning in a predictable loop.
She noticed other things, too. The way it always rained for about an hour after lunch. How the direction of the wind rustling the treetops never changed. The way the lawn remained pristine despite the lack of gardeners.
“Illusion,” she murmured, pressing a palm against the misty glass.
The house could be anywhere. In the heart of a city or on an island in the middle of the sea. She had to consider the possibility that they’d forced with her while she was unconscious, so she could be in another province altogether.
When she escaped, she’d have to be ready for anything.
Cathrynne paced the confines of her prison—fourteen steps from window to door, nine steps from bed to desk. She grew desperate enough to consider trying to work the ley in her own blood. Only the knowledge that it would probably kill her stopped her from trying.
On the seventh day, desperate for any distraction, she turned to the stack of cloth-bound books Markus had left on the table. She’d ignored them thus far, but now she ran her fingers over the spines.
Sinn of the Southern Provinces. An Evolutionary History of the Aquatic Sinn in the Lochs of Kirith. Taxonomy of the Great Northerns. Et cetera.
Every single volume was about the Sinn.
Apparently, Markus’s idea of a joke. Cathrynne opened one at random and studied an engraved illustration of a blue emperor. Its eyes and horns were golden, and so were the overlapping scales across its chest. It was elegantly built, long and serpentine, with blue claws tipping its six sturdy legs. Just like the one that had crawled out of a crevice in the Zamir Hills.
She idly paged through the books until her attention caught on a peculiar title. A History of the Settlement of Eidanger, Years 430-450. She opened the brittle cover and started reading. At first, she thought it must have been accidentally mixed in with the other books because it didn’t seem to be about the Sinn. It was about a village in the far north of Sundland and had lists of names, all women, with the dates they had arrived.
After a few pages, she realized that the women were cyphers who had consorted with angels and born a draconic child, and the book was about what happened to them afterwards when they were sent into exile.
Afterwards.
Cathrynne re-read the passage several times, thoroughly shocked. She had been taught the offspring killed their own mothers. That cyphers never survived the birth. Clearly, she had been lied to.
It made her wonder what other lies she had been told, and whether this village still existed. The time period was over a century ago. But it meant that there were cyphers who had done the worst thing they could possibly do—and lived to tell about it.
Her stomach churned as she thought of the babies. Were they murdered? Or had the infants been spared? She flipped through the pages, trying to find out, but the slender volume didn’t say?—
“My father and uncle were killed by the Sinn,” Markus said.
Cathrynne’s head jerked up. She’d been so engrossed in reading, she hadn’t heard the door open.
“It was a blue emperor.” He came closer—but not too close. Markus Viktorovich wasn’t stupid. “They were in the high desert surveying a new mine. I was seven and in school at the time. My mother survived, though she suffered extensive burns.”
Cathrynne closed the book and casually placed it on the stack. “Well, I’m sorry about that.”
“Thank you.” He studied her, expressionless. “I need you to understand that I don’t hate cyphers. Not like some of us do.”
He was talking about the White Foxes.
“How reassuring,” she said dryly. “Why don’t you let me go then? I have rights, too.”
Markus ignored this. “Many of you come from ancient, respected families. I believe your intentions are good. You are taught to protect the interests of the empire. To enforce its laws. Just as it is my task to preserve the bloodlines from angelic contamination.”
“I know what you do,” she said. “Spare me the lecture.”
He smiled. “Of course. But I’m sure you agree that we cannot allow any more Sinn to be born. They have the ability to reproduce as a species. Left unchecked, I don’t doubt that they will overrun the world.”
His words hit a nerve. “What’s your point?” she snapped.
“It is a fact that the Sinn are growing immune to lithomancy. I believe this might be an evolutionary defense mechanism.” He reached into his pocket and held up a chunk of kaldurite. “This is one of the specimens Durian Padulski sold to the jeweler on my payroll.”
“D’Amato,” Cathrynne muttered, her eyes never leaving the stone. It was the first gem she had seen in over two weeks. It wasn’t hot with ley, of course. But it was just what she needed to pierce the illusion, the shields, and get out of here.
