Cailu did not sleep for the remainder of the evening. Kirti had entrusted him with a journal with a worn leather cover and her hastily scrawled dictations from Magni’s stone, and he pored over the entries again and again until the first rays of sunlight teetered over the horizon.

  Reason warred against every sentence. He wanted to believe that the records were from Kirti alone—that her claim to hearing stones was another piece of her crazed ravings, and this book was an extension of her imagination.

  But he could easily hear the words confronting him in Magni’s ostentatious tone. Treating his subjects as experiments. Hiding a woman’s daughter away at the oasis. The potential to replicate the process to his advantage.

  The Chikara could have been a strategic creation.

  Kirti may have a cruel sense of humor and speak in infuriating riddles, but she had never betrayed him. For now, Cailu would accept her claim as the truth.

  Catgirls became Defiled.

  Why?

  In Cailu’s previous life, he’d witnessed men turn to monsters more times than he could count. But never in a literal sense. He turned back to the first entry for the dozenth time.

  ‘None of the women here suffer from such impairments.’

  In all his years in Nyarlea, Cailu struggled to recall any catgirls he’d accepted into his Party or his bed with ailments similar to what Magni mentioned. A man in Cailu’s final regiment was deaf, and they had worked around it with a series of hand gestures that allowed him to be just as deadly a soldier as the rest.

  Magni had reported a young girl with blindness, and from what he wrote of Muna, she’d suffered a bleeding disease that Cailu had seen the likes of twice in his last life. Both had allegedly turned into Defiled.

  However, the final entry that described the attack on the First Shell tavern did not mention an affliction outside of the same symptoms that Muna had experienced near her transformation. Unless Sahar was still alive, finding her sister’s prior history would be next to impossible. The other option would be to find Magni’s original journal. However, Tristan had searched the fortress, and since Magni’s armor and sword had somehow arrived in Ronona Castle before them, he had to consider the possibility that Magni’s journal could have been taken as well.

  That left him with a disturbing question: who exactly had taken Magni’s belongings to Nyarlothep? Naeemah’s plans before he’d left were to either reuse the materials or sell them to help restore the city. Anyone who would have wished them kept safe would most likely have been close to Ichi’s former king. There was Sanrai, the leader of his Ejderha, as well as the majority of her soldiers, who had perished in the tunnel. Then there was the castle stewardess—Eshe, if he recalled her name correctly. Would she have known about the exchange? Or the existence of Magni’s journal?

  Does Queen Nehalennia know?

  He couldn’t risk penning this information in a missive to Naeemah. Kirti had been right to silence him; if even a whisper of the possibility escaped him, it could cause an unprecedented panic. If Kirti would allow him to, he would prefer to burn the pages she’d recorded.

  As he packed away his things and made to help break down the camp, Cailu wished that Naeemah were the one waiting for him in the carriage. His dream of her was still vivid in his memory despite his lack of sleep, and her scent seemed to linger on his belongings. Instead, there was a distraught, ruminative Kirti, a silent Zahra who had not said a word of their missed training that morning, and a blissfully unaware Ceres.

  “Sir Cailu, we will arrive back at the Port of Elliot in thirteen days, is that correct?” Ceres asked. She watched the scenery pass them by with wide eyes, as if it were the first time she was seeing it.

  “Yes. Though I plan to ask for a [Dark Priest] or [Magistrate] that can expedite our travels to Shi Island if possible,” Cailu replied.

  Zahra looked up from her hands and furrowed her brow. She opened her mouth, and Cailu waited for her to ask after the reason for their haste or the cumbersome expense. Requesting a portal to another city or island often cost more than double what a carriage asked.

  Instead, Zahra licked her lips and looked at Kirti. “[Dark Priest] precedes [Witch Doctor], doesn’t it?”

  Kirti nodded, but her stare was leagues away outside of the window. “I did not take the [Eldritch Void],” she replied softly. “I’d never planned on traveling far from Rājadhānī.”

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  “It may be to all of our benefit if you choose to spend a Skill Point on it in the future,” Cailu said.

  Kirti hummed with another detached nod.

  Both of their voices sounded strained and measured. As if reciting a playscript back and forth for the first time.

  Zahra returned to looking at her hands. The last words Cailu had spoken to her the evening prior were to get rest, though it seemed like his command went unheard. It was likely that Kirti hadn’t spoken to her at all.

  Only then did Ceres tear her gaze from the window and look between the three of them. “Is aught amiss?”

  Zahra looked up at Cailu, then at Kirti. Kirti remained still, her elbow resting against the window’s edge and her chin resting in her palm—not even her ears twitched in response to Ceres’s question.

  Cailu worked his jaw. It was one thing to deceive the women on his island who sought assistance or children of their own. Maintaining an image that all was well was part of his duty as a man in Nyarlea. No matter the threat levels of the Defiled, the queen’s economic concerns, the incompetence of other men in the world, or his own exhaustion with his position, he had to inspire and please those who looked toward him for comfort.

  This, however, was different.

  He looked at the squirming Ceres and couldn’t help but imagine her transforming into a new, terrifying monster that assaulted a nearby city. Those who fought back would call her hideous, disgusting, and deadly. He and his Party would attack and dispatch her with haste, collect the Experience for their Classes, and be celebrated in the town as heroes with Bells and feasts.

  ‘The Defiled are Saoirse’s gift to men.’

  Defiled brought certain boons to men and their Parties, to be sure, but had the prophets uttered these words knowing where they come from? Surely Saoirse’s faithful were not aware of this transformation, or it would be more shared knowledge. The only correlation commonly discussed to the appearance of the Defiled was the presence of a man on the island.

  Ceres’s lips moved, but his spiraling thoughts continued.

  Since Shi Island had hidden Tristan away for so long, it was now overrun with potential kittens and catgirls who’d turned into beasts. Cailu had offered to slay as many as he could to help Tristan restore the destroyed cities.

  Kirti had endured this knowledge for years and would be forced to continue doing so if she hoped to find answers to her questions. How would he react if Heiki had shared a similar fate to Muna’s? His stomach churned, and bile rose into the back of his throat.

  Ceres’s face turned an intense shade of red. She squeezed her eyes closed and bent forward until her shoulders were level with her knees in an awkward, carriage-allowing bow. “S-Sir Cailu! Please allow me to beg your, Kirti’s, and Zahra’s forgiveness!”

  She’d nearly shouted the words, interrupting Cailu’s thoughts and returning him to the present. His hands had balled into fists in his lap, and he slowly uncurled his fingers.

  Kirti blinked and tipped her chin to look at Ceres. The corners of her lips twitched out of their deep frown into an expression of mild amusement. Zahra’s brow furrowed, and a similar confusion to what Cailu felt resculpted her face.

  “Ceres? What would you possibly need forgiveness for?” Zahra asked, lightly touching Ceres’s back.

  Ceres straightened, and Zahra retracted her hand. Ceres’s bottom lip quivered as if she were fighting to hold back tears. Cailu’s confusion compounded, but he awaited her response. “My a-actions with Sir Matt were selfish and improper. It is my honor to serve beside you all, and I should not have let my w-whims take hold of me.”

  Kirti lowered her arm into her lap and turned her amusement onto Cailu. He was surprised to feel a sense of relief inside of her bothersome mockery.

  “My greatest fear is disappointing you, Sir Cailu.” Ceres shook her head and twined her fingers together. “If you…if you would prefer I stay in Sorentina until Sir Matt completes his training, then I will do so. I do not wish to be a bother.”

  The truth of it was, between the meeting with Nehalennia and Kirti’s presentation of Magni’s journal, he had forgotten about Ceres and Matt’s pointless tryst. While it would never be behavior that he condoned, he cleared his throat and forced back the smile that threatened his mouth. Kirti grinned.

  “Ceres, I still welcome your assistance,” Cailu said, crossing his arms and shaking his head. “As a native of the island, your knowledge is invaluable for our travels. As I said before, I trust that you will be more mindful in the future.”

  Ceres wiped at her eyes and straightened her shoulders. “You are not angry with me, then?”

  “No.” There needed to be a reason for their silence, and Cailu weighed each option before deciding what would be best. “Our time in Castle Ronona proved arduous. There is much work to be done in repairing Nyarlea.” Much more than I could have ever imagined.

  “Whatever I may do to be of assistance, please say the word.” Ceres’s stoic expression returned, and she splayed a hand across her chest. “I wish to prove my worth.”

  Zahra touched her shoulder. “You are one of the bravest people I’ve ever met, Ceres. I don’t believe you have anything to worry about.”

  Kirti nodded. “There aren’t many who would put themselves to the front lines knowing it could mean death.” The tension in her shoulders relaxed, and she crossed one leg over the other. “You have nothing to prove.”

  “As they say. Continue as you are.” That was enough praise. He needed Ceres to keep her best foot forward.

  Ceres smiled. “Thank you, everyone. I look forward to growing stronger at your side.”

  With the blood of your kin. Cailu buried the thought and returned his gaze to the window.

  The sooner they finished their time on Shi Island, the better.

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