“I know he will try,” I respond, confidence in my voice. “But I’m capable of finding information in the most irrelevant of books. I see what others don’t see. I can find information in those archives that no one else can. And I’ll come home at the tiniest whisper of trouble.” I sense Laurel becoming more open to the idea, the mask of Queen receding, so I press on. “I’m out of ideas, El.” My voice wavers. “I have no more experiments to try, or books to read, or elder fae to talk to. The flowers are declining, and we don’t know why or what impact it will have on the kingdom. Admon and I both tried finding answers here from the other advisors, and that was a dead end. Even if this is another one, we must try. There could be real answers in Velmara.” I lock my eyes on hers, pleading with unspoken words. She looks away.

“Admon, what do you think?” she asks the elder fae. He frowns, the deep lines on his face shifting with the movement.

“I’ve known both of you all your lives,” he says thoughtfully, kind and wise eyes darting between the two of us. “I was there the day you were born, Laurel. I was the one who received the missive that the Valley of Moormyr had bloomed under the blood moon. I delivered that news to your parents and watched them connect it to the prophecy and realize the implications. I’ve seen you both shoulder more than your fair share of tragedy and trauma. You’ve matured gracefully under immense pressure.” My throat aches with tears I don’t dare shed. I glance at Laurel. She must feel the same, though she would never show it, even better than I at concealing her emotions. “So I also know,” Admon continues, “what it will cost the two of you to be separated. But I do believe Nemesia is the best person to send. She knows every book in our own archives back to front and is smart enough to make connections where others may not. She can also protect herself with her magic if it comes to it.”

Laurel’s resolve falters, eyes softening and brow unfurrowing. Laurel’s a good Queen. She’s a fair and honest ruler, who truly listens to the advice of her counselors. She may put up her own wall of mist between herself and the world, but underneath she’s just as beautiful and lush as Thayaria.

Laurel sighs. “I’m wary of Mazus’s true motivations. He’s up to something. This is not some altruistic gesture…”

“El, we know—” I start to protest, but she cuts me off.