“Anyway,” she says. “I never expected to hear rumors of Leonodai moving inland, but it’s all that Ramsgate has been talking about for the past days. That’s why I had Isla go look for you. I could barely keep her from going, anyway. She’s always running around exploring the woods here. When she was little, I’d bring her into the garden and tell her to stay put while I worked. I’d turn for one second, and off she’d go.” Ellian sighs. “Now I don’t fight it. It’s safer for her to be running around the trees than wanting to venture into town.”

I look away from Ellian and try to place myself in her shoes. Surely, it’s worth the risk for her and Isla to return home. If I had to make a choice that put the girls at Storm’s End or my mother in such danger, would I be able to do it? I think I would, but part of me protests. Staying put is safety. For Ellian, that has become enough.

This is something Shirene would be able to understand. Like water, she fit into wherever she needed to be and excelled there. But staying still doesn’t sit well with me. I need more than that.

“Rowan,” Ellian asks, bringing me back. “Why are you here?”

For a moment, I doubt whether I should tell her what’s happened. She’s been here too long, said she loved a human. But … Ellian is Leonodai. Like Noam, the heart that beats in her chest pumps blood laced with the magic of our people. She taught her daughter our steady oath. There is a part of her that is sun and skies, same as me, and no amount of time can shake that.

So I tell her everything I know.

Her jaw drops as I recount the children getting sick. Ellian’s gaze goes to Isla’s room, then back to me as she listens. I tell her about the teams leaving, the sentinels’ lies, and about Noam. Then I mention Prince Tabrol.

“We don’t have much time,” I say. “That’s why I need more of the cure. To save him, and everyone else.”

“Skies,” she says, then another curse in a thicker Leonodai tone. The sound makes me smile, despite everything. “There isn’t much of the plant left. The holy women have told me that the cure was bought and sold too much for too many years. The plants dwindled, and merchants destroyed competitors’ supply so they could raise their own prices. Now only one mother plant remains, and it’s closely protected by the holy women and soldiers. The women tend to it and sell its flowers carefully it as a means of making money for their charity work.”

I lean forward. “How much is there?”