Come afternoon, Bren and I take the carriage to my audience with Alyrra. Kelari Bakira sits in the corner of the bench, focused on her sewing, to all appearances a perfectly uninterested chaperone. It is only because of her, and Bren’s insistence that the more we all went out together, the more risks we ran, that Mama agreed to stay home.
I haven’t seen Lirika yet—she asked not to be disturbed—but Bren has gotten word that Artemian was seen by the healer mage as hoped, and will remain at the house of healing for a few days to receive treatment. I send up a prayer that they will be able to ease his pain.
“We’ll be there shortly,” Bren says as we swing past the wide plaza before the great arched entryway of the palace gates.
“I thought Veria Havila lived at the palace,” I muse, gazing up
