“The child,” Tamin said. “The demon-claimed child. There’s a prophecy: The demon-claimed child gathers the broken, witches and outlaws, rebels outspoken, to plot conquest and uprising while winter’s malice hides her chains in the snow king’s palace.”

I stared at him.

“Don’t you see it? It’s obvious!”

“I don’t—”

“There’s another,” he persisted. “The claimed child waits, not dead but sleeping, dreaming of evil and souls for reaping, for when day and night at last are one, the demon king’s bars will come undone. Surely that’s clearer. If the demons find the child they seek, they will use him to destroy the world.”

I didn’t think it clear at all, but I also didn’t volunteer my opinion. “When day and night at last are one … an eclipse?”

He missed the sarcasm that crept into my voice despite my best efforts to tame it. “Yes, I think so. But I can’t be sure. It could mean anything.”

I resisted the urge to ask him to repeat that last sentence again, more slowly.

I lifted my chin. “So the runes carved on the posts down there? Those are designed to … hurt … demons?”

“Yes. Every witch who dies is one less witch who can summon demons.”

“Ah, how clever,” I said. “I understand now.”

Which was true. I understood perfectly.

You see, because of Xaltorath’s “loving” upbringing, I could read the runes carved on those stakes. I also saw the unnatural strength that gave Dedreugh his victories. I’m not a fool. Tamin’s teacher Relos Var, his trusted mentor, had spun a pretty web of lies. Tamin had swallowed every single one. Someone was indeed summoning demons in Barsine Banner.

Unfortunately, despite his own clear belief to the contrary, that someone was Tamin himself.

7: PLANS OF ATTACK

Jorat Dominion, Quuros Empire. Two days since Urthaenriel was picked up off the ground

Kihrin sat back in his ch7air, feeling like all the stone surrounding them was pressing down against his skin. He shuddered. “That was me, you know. I’m the younger brother that was sold as a slave in Kishna-Farriga. And Relos Var did try to buy me.”

“Oh,” Janel said, “so you’re that brother.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not his brother at all, technically. At least, not in this life.”

Janel shrugged. “I don’t think he sees the distinction.”

“No, no, I suppose he doesn’t. He hates me like I’m his real brother, anyway.”

She paused, her expression unreadable. “Does he?”

“Yes. Very much so.” He looked at her again. “You think he doesn’t?”

She pondered her answer before saying, “Our emotions are rarely simple when it comes to family.”

“Easy for you to say. You’ve never met my older brother Darzin. I’m happy to say you never will.”

She looked startled. “I see. Well, it does feel like we know all the same people, so who can say?”