Silence lingers around us as I process the information. For the last hundred years or so, the magic-enhancing flower has had fewer and fewer blooms. In the last five years, the change has been dramatic. It’s part of the reason the rebels have turned violent and why their recruitment efforts are now more successful. The people are scared what will happen with less access to our most important resource.

“It’s a stretch, but I wouldn’t put it past Mazus. We certainly can’t rule it out,” is all I tell her, not willing to let my own fear show, not even to my closest friend. “We need to see if there are any opportunities to learn more during the Forum. We’ll have to be careful, but I can’t deny this year’s gathering is a good opportunity. You and Admon should see what you can uncover about this while we’re there.” I intentionally leave out my own reasons for suspecting Mazus, as some secrets are too big, even for Nemesia. “And what of the Sons and Daughters of Thayaria?” I ask. “Are you any closer to finding their leaders or intercepting their plans?” Nemesia tenses, avoiding making eye contact. “Neme… tell me,” I command. She sighs, taking another sip of her drink as she returns to her favorite chair.

“They’re growing. This year seems to be a tipping point. People are worried about the declining thayar populations, and the rebels are stoking those fears with claims that your magic is affecting the flowers.” It takes the centuries of practice I’ve had at hiding my emotions to stay silent at that comment, too close to the truth of my own fears. “They’re saying it’s true you practice witchcraft, citing the blood-to-blood line in the prophecy. There are murmurs that you, and by extension Thayaria, are being punished by the gods.” She pauses, waiting for my reaction. I only nod, my mask of cool indifference firmly in place, gesturing for her to continue. “I had hoped to keep this from you until I found more information, but…” She trails off. I look at her expectantly, tension coiling in my gut. “The Sons and Daughters have been telling new recruits that you used a group of powerful plant channelers to try and help the thayar grow, and that it was unsuccessful.”

I still, the tension in my gut expanding to my shoulders and neck. My mind races, realizing the implications at the same time as Nemesia says, “We have a mole.” Nemesia is tense, eyes staring at mine with fury and fear.

“We were so careful. Only a handful of advisors knew what we were planning, and even they didn’t know the dates or which channelers we used,” I say. My frustration begins to boil over, and I feel the aether building around me. I inhale, locking down the current with practiced control.