Gregory left Eleanor at the window ledge. Chou returned from the library and crouched on the cushion beside her.
“Rosemary delivered the necklace herself,” he said. “Gregory wouldn’t let her visit, but I heard her telling him about Hazelbeth’s recovery. Apparently she’s just as powerful and full of mystical brouhaha as ever. They both look forward to seeing you soon.”
Eleanor toyed with the choker. “The king sends missionaries to find friends for Cartheigh, but we must fight our own enemies.”
“Casper will support your part in the effort, but will Gregory? Perhaps…now that you have the people’s love again.”
She looked Chou in his bright yellow eyes. Something swelled inside her, and for the first time in months, it wasn’t grief or fear. “I’m grateful for it, Chou. HighGod knows I am, but I’m going to carry on, whether Gregory or the people of Cartheigh like it or not.”
“I’m here, of course, if you need extra brains.”
“My daughter needs me.” She squeezed the spectite. “Ezra Oliver must be stopped. I’m alive. Dorian is alive. He said the truth has come home. Let us see what we shall make of it.”
She stood, and warmth coursed through her hand. She looked down. The dragon choker blazed crimson against her neck.
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