“Very well,” he said to Sotia. “You may give the language of the gods to the leaders of the valley people only.” His lip curled as if he knew that this stipulation would hurt her far more than another blow. Sotia struggled to her feet and walked down the mountain, her heart as heavy as the stone tablet in her hands. TWENTY-TWO “THE KING LIVES, but just barely.” Laiyonea sat down heavily next to me in the sitting room, where she had sent me after we’d been turned away from the king’s chamber an hour before. Laiyonea had been so pale that I hadn’t wanted to leave her, but she’d insisted on staying by herself to argue with the guards. “Did you see him?” I asked timidly. I couldn’t shake the memory of King Tyno’s prostrate form, the hole in his chest. Or of Mati’s face, terrified but determined. I ached to be near Mati, to take his hand and offer what comfort I could. Laiyonea shook her head. A tendril of black hair had come loose from its knot and lay curled against her neck.
