"The amulet of Eteer's queen—Anai's last relic of her once royal past." The shaman tossed the talisman toward Issari. "Keep it. And whenever you look at it, remember that your mother screamed like a butchered pig when the flames licked the flesh off her bones."

As Issari clutched the amulet, Raem grabbed the crone's arms and leaned down, glaring at her.

"What of Laira?" the king demanded. "What of my daughter?"

Shedah licked her lips with her long, white tongue. "The maggot fled our tribe. She was heading north when we lost her scent, but I know where she was going." Shedah pressed her withered hand against the king's cheek. "I will reveal all to you, mighty king, in return for but one gift."

Raem clutched the woman's arms so tightly they seemed ready to snap. "What do you desire?"

"The same as you, my lord. The same as all who are wise. Power." She sneered. "For years, I placed leeches upon the flesh of Laira, sucking up her blood for my potions. The blood of a princess is mighty, and my stores run low." The shaman turned toward Issari and gave her a hungry, lustful look. "Give me your one daughter, and I will give you the other."

JEID

 
JEID

He flew.

Sometimes he just needed to fly.

The night stretched around him, moonless, starless, a world without sight, a sea of wind and blackness and cold air. He did not know where he flew. Most nights he no longer cared.

Jeid Blacksmith, men used to call him—a forger of bronze.

Grizzly, his children called him—a shaggy, endearing old beast, lumbering and harmless.

Diseased, said those who lived in wilderness and towns. A creature. Cursed.

Flying here upon the wind, he no longer knew who he was. He no longer knew what to call himself.

"Who am I, Keyla?" he asked, the wind all but drowning his voice.

He saw her face in the night—his wife, her hair golden in the sun, her smile bright. A sad woman—her smile had always seemed sad to him—but one who clung to every sliver of joy, cradling and nourishing it, letting it grow even through pain.

"You are Jeid." She spoke in his mind and touched his cheek. "You are my husband. You are a father to our children."

He lowered his head. He wanted to tell her. He wanted to tell his wife that their youngest daughter was dead, that the people of the plains—perhaps Zerra's wandering tribe, perhaps the people of Oldforge or another town—had poisoned her.

But Keyla already knew. He saw that knowledge in her eyes.

"You're together now," Jeid whispered. "And I want to join you."