“A lot,” he murmured.
“What did Aydun speak to you about?” Seraphena asked, starting to walk once more.
Casteel’s jaw flexed. “He gave me a history lesson, then told me what would happen if Kolis wasn’t stopped. Other than that, not much.”
My gaze darted between them. Both seemed like there was more they weren’t saying. “Can Aydun be trusted?”
“No Fate can be trusted.”
“Not even Holland?” I asked, glancing over the teardrop shields and the swords pointed to the high, arched ceiling. Something felt different. “He spoke as if you two were acquainted.”
“We are.” She paused. “I trust him…to the extent that I know he means me no harm.”
“That’s an odd way of phrasing it,” Casteel noted.
She glanced back at us. “The Fates have one goal: keeping the balance. And they will do anything to maintain it.”
Considering I was here, they really hadn’t done a great job of that. “Do you know how many Fates there are?”
Casteel’s gaze slid toward me as Seraphena tipped her head to the side. “I cannot say. They seem to be very cagey about their numbers.”
I huffed. “I met three of them in Mount Lotho—Holland, Lirian, and Thorne.”
“Thorne?” Curiosity rang from her tone. “Him, I haven’t met. I know of two more.”
So, there were definitely six. “Do you know how many of them need to be alive to maintain the realms?”
Once more, I felt Casteel’s stare as Seraphena let out a throaty laugh. “Why? You planning to end one?”
I said nothing as we reached the end of the hall, not sure how she would respond if I said yes. Then again, my non-answer was an answer, wasn’t it? I took one last look at the hall—
Jerking to a stop, I turned around, my gaze swinging to the statues. It was them. Something was different about them.
“Poppy?” Casteel questioned.
“Just a moment,” I murmured, quickly counting the statues. There were fourteen. I knew there had been a little over a dozen the last time, though I hadn’t counted them. It couldn’t be that.
My eyes moved from the teardrop shields to their swords—the swords. I sucked in a sharp breath.
“What’s going on?” Casteel asked.
“Weren’t the swords pointed at the floor the last time we were here?”
Frowning, Casteel looked the statues over. “Honestly? I don’t remember. I wasn’t paying attention to them.” He looked over his shoulder. “Do you remember, Reaver-butt?”
“No,” the draken growled. “And stop calling me that.”
Smirking, Casteel turned to me. “You think they changed?”
I did, but statues didn’t just move around, especially not eight-foot-tall ones. If something was up with them, wouldn’t Seraphena pick up on it?
Dragging my stare from them, I turned. “Sorry. I think I just remembered wrong.”
Casteel looked back as we started walking again, the skin between his brows creasing.
“So?” Seraphena looked back at me, her brows raised. “Which one pissed you off that much?”
“Just one?” I replied, pushing the weirdness of the statues aside. “It wasn’t Holland—well, I am irritated with him, but not to that level.”
