“Did she ever tell you who your father was?”

She shook her head. “My mother kept a lot of secrets—that being one of them. There were rumors. Children could be cruel growing up, repeating things they’d heard their parents whisper about. I never believed them until my mother told me herself.”

“I’m confused,” I admitted. “Why did you both return to Dothik then? Especially if she was trying to keep you safe?”

“My great-uncle died,” she said. “The horde collapsed. We had nowhere else to go, but my mother had family in Dothik, who helped us get established. We got a small room above a tavern in the market district. My mother worked there. The dreams became more frequent, and when I woke that night with this scar…that’s when she got even more scared.”

“Your father found out you were in the city. He found out about your birth,” I guessed.

She inclined her head, and my fingers tightened on her hips.

“He actually wanted me back then,” she said, a sad smile crossing her face. “But I think he just wanted to feel attached to my mother in some way. And I was that link to her. He was furious that she’d hidden the pregnancy. When I was fourteen, he had me come live in the palace. Maybe to punish my mother—I don’t know. But she made a deal with him, or maybe even the queen. Something I could never truly figure out. But I went to live with them…and my mother was sent away. To the orala sa’kilan.”

“The priestesses,” I knew, understanding finally dawning.

“One year later, I received news that she was dead.”

My jaw tightened, a knot forming in my belly.

“She was always so scared of the priestesses. Ever since our heartstones were wiped out, they’d been trying to create new ones. With the power that some Dakkari manifested, that’s what they would use—using people like power sources,” Klara said. “But more times than not, it would kill them. That’s what happened to my mother. She was used for her power, and it killed her. And the worst thing is that I think that was the deal. She willingly went to the orala sa’kilan so that I would be protected from that fate.”

It was a tragedy. Pure and simple. What the Dakkari were doing to their own people…it was pointless. Heartstones couldn’t be created.

“She gave her life to keep me safe in Dothik. I don’t know the extent to which my father knew. I do know he loved her—he wasn’t seen for weeks when we heard of her death—but he became cold to me after that. Like he could barely stand to look at me,” she said. Her eyes were glassy with a film of tears. “I just wish we’d stayed on the wildlands. We were happy there. Safe. Maybe she’d still be alive.”

“I’m sorry, aralye,” I said gruffly, my chest tight from the tale. “I didn’t know.”

She wiped under her eyes and then splashed her face with water. She gave me a half-smile, trying to dispel some of the tension between us.

“It wasn’t all bad,” she told me. “Dannik protected me. I met my friend Sora. I was content in the archives. I was content in my research, though more times than not, it was frustrating. But it gave me purpose. It made me feel connected to my mother.”

I remembered her brother, Dannik. By our reports, he would overstep the eldest daughter and his father would instead pass the throne to him. Would he make a good king? That would remain to be seen, but it had been in my report to Elysom.

Did it soften me toward the Dakkari male? Knowing he’d watched over his sister?

Perhaps.

I’d seen how protective he’d been over her outside the East Gate. Knowing what I knew now, my estimation of him increased. Because he hadn’t needed to love Klara. It would have suited him better to have ignored her, like some of her own family had, no doubt.

“Heartstones cannot be created,” I informed her. She stilled under my grip. “They are not made. They are grown.”

“With the roots of the thalara tree,” she guessed. Her own visions had proved that.

“Yes,” I said. “It’s terrible what your priestesses are doing. Pointless and terrible. Then again, most things are when it comes to power and fear. Together? That’s a deadly combination, especially in a group of people with unchecked authority.”

She inclined her head. “Do I get to ask a question now?”

It depends on what it is, I thought immediately. Then I felt shame. She’d been honest with me. More open than I’d thought she might be. But I was used to the Sarrothian, who kept their emotions close and their tongues behind their teeth more times than not.

She wasn’t anything like a Sarrothian. She couldn’t be more opposite.

“Yes,” I said instead.

“Is Dakkar in danger from an attack by the Karag?”

That wasn’t the question I’d expected. But she’d perhaps wondered why I’d been poking about her history. Did she think I’d asked about her family, her mother, her father because I was trying to glean information?

“Make no mistake, Klara,” I began, “the Karag have been monitoring the Dakkari for decades.”

“Spying, you mean.”

“Call it what you want. But the Karag do not make it a habit of entering a war with neighboring nations without reason. And certainly not unprovoked.”

“But you want the heartstones.”

I blew out a breath, adjusting her slightly so that she was more in the crook of my arm, her naked side brushing mine.

“We were spying, as you call it, because we were trying to establish if there were heartstones worthwhile to try to take.”

“To steal, you mean,” she corrected again, quirking a brow, and I huffed out a sharp laugh.

“I prefer negotiate for.”

Klara laughed, the sound carefree and beautiful. For once. It was the first time I’d heard her laugh like this.

“We believe that an ancient Elthika took the heartstones and dropped them over different nations. There are reports of other heartstones all over this planet. Dakkar isn’t the only race that has possession of them.”

She straightened in my grip at that. “Why would an Elthika do that?”

“To share power,” I answered. “To give it freely. To start wars. To hide them. To grow them in different soils to see if they had different effects. Who knows. I’ve heard all theories. But the one thing that is never in disagreement among Elysom’s scholars is that it was an Elthika’s doing. Long ago.”

“We believe that they are gifts from our goddess, Kakkari,” she informed me, gazing up at me with those warm, seeking eyes. “I like our explanation better.”

I felt my lips curl slightly, and I hid it by looking away.

“The Karag don’t believe in gods or goddesses, do you?”

“We believe in our Elthika,” I answered her. “And our bonds with them. That’s all we need to know.”

She didn’t argue with me. In fact, she accepted my simple answer, inclining her head.

“How long will we be in the Arsadia?” she asked.

“Until after the illa’rosh, after the riding season is complete,” I told her. “Why?”

“I would like to do my own research on the lost horde kings. Sammenth and Ryena told me about the villages where they grew up. I was hoping to talk to some of the Elders, to see if I can record their knowledge, their stories before they’re truly lost forever.”

“If you make your bond with an Elthika, you can do whatever you want as queen,” I answered her.

“Truly?” she asked.

“Did you expect a fight from me about it?”

“Well…yes.”

“Fulfill your oath to the Sarrothian, Klara,” I started, dipping my head down so our eyes met, “and you can do whatever you please.”

A determined spark lit up her eyes. “I’ll do it, then.”

I didn’t hide my smile this time. “If that was all I needed to say, I wish I’d done it long before now.”

“That’s why we should learn more about each other,” she pointed out, though she kept her smug satisfaction at bay. “Don’t you agree?”