“My reasons are my own,” he sneers. “They do not concern you. I have… allies in Thayaria, so wipe any plans of lying to me or not doing your best to get close to the Queen from your mind. If you slip up, I’ll bring you home and deliver on my promise. Thayaria is not as impenetrable as you may think.” He gives me a meaningful look, then waves his hand in dismissal before turning back to the pile of documents scattered on the table in front of him. “Make your preparations. You depart in a week.”

“What the actual fuck,” Fionn says an hour later when I tell him the news. Silene wasn’t here when I arrived in the sparring chambers, ready to beat the shit out of anyone or anything that crossed my path, but Fionn was. The moment he saw my face, he ripped off his shirt and picked up a weapon. We fought in silence for several minutes, our swords clashing in a familiar rhythm and echoing off the walls and high ceilings around us. After I’d taken the edge off the furious energy coursing through my veins, I told him about the meeting and our impending diplomatic vacation.

“If you don’t want to go…” I say, grunting with the effort of blocking one of Fionn’s parries.

“Don’t be an idiot. I’m going,” Fionn says, not even out of breath. He feints to the right, then twists his body while I lunge so that he can come up behind me, his sword at my neck. “How else will you get any better at using a sword if I’m not there to remind you that I still beat you every time?” He releases me, grinning.

I drop the sword, heaving deep breaths. I’m an excellent swordsman, but Fionn is better, not even needing the metal channeling affinities he has to best me. Although I would never admit it to him, he does in fact beat me nearly every time. We walk to the edge of the ring, replacing our training weapons on the rack.

“Do you think she’s really a blood mage?” he asks, concern flashing through his eyes.

I shrug. “I wish I knew. My father has convinced everyone she is, and I don’t know how else she would have achieved the barrier magic she’s been able to maintain for three hundred years. There’s no other explanation for it but spellwork.”

“But…” Fionn prompts with his typical prodding.