The Silver Siren (Iron Butterfly, #3)(46)

Before I killed him, I asked my uncle who the Raven was. He told me it was one of my precious Denai.

And why was the hideout in Calandry, if Sinnendor was the enemy? Why not take us into Sinnendor? Why risk everything by hiding in their enemy’s lands?

No, something was off.

I wrote down every clan in Calandry and found them on the map. I put another coin on each of the clan’s lands. At first I had thought they were taking both human and Denai, but that was because I didn’t believe I was human. Now there was a thread of doubt. I believed the Raven was looking for something specific in each of the clans. It was probably blood-related, so the Septori hit the strongest clans first. When that didn’t’ work, I guessed they went after the strongest Denai.

No matter how I looked at the map and the layout of coins, I couldn’t help but notice that Haven was the epicenter of the movement. If Sinnendor was the answer, then wouldn’t there have been more coins placed near the border? In fact, other than the one I placed on my own home, there was a noticeable lack of coins in that region.

“Gah!” I pounded my fist on the table and then swiped all of the coins onto the floor. I wasn’t skilled in the art of war, but I knew someone who was.

I left my house and headed down the road to the main building. It was dark and I passed an open window. I could see that the clan council had gathered with my father. Even though he was the rightful leader, each seat of the council was held by the head of one of the founding families. Bearen and Odin were leaning over the table pointing at areas and speaking in low tones. They too were studying a map. I noticed that our setups mirrored each other, but their map was more detailed. And quite a few red wooden markers stood on theirs.

“Markis, tell me about your recent survey into Sinnendor.” Bearen leaned back and directed his attention to a man sitting by a wall.

I stood on tiptoe and tried to lean closer to the window. This is what I had been waiting for—what Odin had alluded to.

Markis, a short clansmen with blond locks, stood up and walked over to the table, pointing at the map. It looked like he had been on the road for a while, because both his short beard and the bobcat furs he wore were covered in dirt.

“We know that, since Tieren became king, trade has been non-existent. Over the years, little traffic has entered Sinnendor because of fear of the Elite, guarding against Denai. But I was able to cross over quite easily. There are less patrols.

“Why would they abandon their borders? What reasons do they have for slacking in this area?” Odin asked.

Markis shook his head. “I don’t know. Maybe it’s a trap to draw us in? But I made it to Merchantstown and have heard from a few servants in the palace that it’s gotten worse. King Tieren’s left his borders wide open, and people are coming and going. The Elite have drawn their troops in, closer to the king, staying within the castle walls, and protecting the crown princes. They’re weaker than we’ve ever seen them. They are scattered and disorganized, and they know it.

“But they still continue sending messengers.” Odin said exasperated. “Why continue with their demands?”

Gotte walked over to the map and pointed out a trail along the map. “I’ve been wondering that myself. They’ve been sending someone almost weekly now down Sumner Pass. But Bearen, how long can we keep killing the messenger without consequence? It won’t be long before Tieren tires and sends a small army.”

Markis spoke up before Bearen could answer, “You can be sure we aren’t the only ones to have noticed Sinnendor’s lack of patrols. I’ve seen others’ scouts. We never came face to face, but I believe they are from Calandry. Do you know anything about this Bearen?”

Bearen crossed his arms and stared at the map. After a moment, he stood up and made eye contact with every man in the room. Many became uncomfortable, shifting their eyes elsewhere. “Yes, it’s apparent from the last message from the Citadel that the queen firmly believes Sinnendor is behind the recent abductions of Calandrians, including my daughter.

“For generations, we’ve purposefully kept our distance from Calandry and their politics. We’ve always been vassals of Sinnendor, and lately those lines have been muddied with the current events, but we mustn’t let it cloud our judgment. I’ve known it would one day come to this, and now I must ask you. If this leads to a war between Calandry and Sinnendor, we cannot sit idly by. We must choose—a side we are willing to die for. I will not be the one to start the war, but by the stars I will be the one to finish it.”

The room erupted. Clansmen slammed their mugs on the table, yelling and pushing each other. A few even came to blows, but I wasn’t surprised. It was normal for my people to discuss matters with fists first and heads later. I was, however, surprised to see my father open up the discussion of switching allegiance to Queen Lilyana.

“Eavesdropping?” a quiet voice drifted over my shoulder.

I turned to see Syrani standing behind me. Her blonde hair was pulled to the side and tied with a leather strap. She wore a simple blue wool dress trimmed in rabbit fur. It was obviously not one of her more expensive dresses, but one more suited to my own clan’s style. Over the dress, she wore a large brown apron, covered in dirt and clay. Even her fingernails were covered in dirt. She didn’t look intimidating or haughty. She looked happy.

She caught me staring at her dirt-caked hands and began to pick at the dried clay and flick it to the ground. Her cheeks reddened and she shrugged her shoulders. “I’ve discovered that Fenri’s mother has a potter’s wheel, and I’m a natural—obviously.” She said the last word in a lighthearted manner. A piece of stray hair fell down into her face and she tucked it behind her ear with her hand. Still wet clay smeared across her cheek.