Chapter Twenty-Two: A Desperate Plea | Part 3
Benn took a gulp from a potion vial before handing it to Thirtyx to give to Rhea. Thirtyx had to fight every defensive instinct in his body to touch the uncharacteristically cool glass. Fortunately, Rhea quickly moved her fingers from Thirtyx’s hand to the vial and tipped the remaining contents into her mouth.
She dropped the empty vial with a look of consternation. “You took way more than half!”
“Slightly more,” Benn corrected. “I was out of my body for longer.”
“Well, I have—” Rhea looked at the clock more quickly than was wise and put a hand on her head with a wince. “—nine bars to craft the most persuasive talking points of my life.” She sat up, now holding her head with both hands. “Guess I’d better get to work.”
“Persuasive talking points?” Thirtyx repeated. “Another letter?”
Benn and Rhea exchanged a pointed look that gave Thirtyx the breakfast they were currently missing downstairs. “You’re the strategist,” Rhea said. “Grimm said the ‘what’ was up to me and the ‘how’ was up to you.”
Benn nodded and raked a hand across his face, his fingers ending pinched around the bridge of his nose. “We just had a few… interesting bombshells dropped on us. This may put you in an awkward position, Thirtyx, but we need your help.”
Thirtyx thought back to dodging trances in Azirenne’s office, then to returning to said office to feed the headmistress a series of lies so precarious that his chest tightened at the memory. Nevertheless, he didn’t think it prudent to remind Benn that he was no stranger to them putting him in awkward positions.
“Grimm needs us for something this afternoon,” Benn continued. “In person. We need to teleport home for a few bars.”
Thirtyx inhaled deeply through his nose and exhaled through his mouth. “And I have to keep everyone from realizing you’re gone.”
“It should be easier on the weekend,” Rhea said. “But given that word is spreading about what really happened last night, you should probably have something prepared in case someone comes to check on Benn. Seerla won’t,” she added quickly. “I filled her in last night, so I doubt she’d risk being seen here when she knows we’re safe.”
Thirtyx answered with a hollow nod. “Are… you allowed to tell me what you’re doing at the palace? It might help me come up with some convincing half-truths.”
Rhea, again, looked to Benn, who let his hand fall from his face with a heavy sigh. “If it helps, we won’t technically be at the palace for long. Grimm is…” He trailed off, looking almost queasy with discomfort. “He’s asking for help from Iwabo Pfah.”
Thirtyx was impressed he managed to keep his reaction confined to raised eyebrows. He knew better than to pile his own emotions on top of his friends’, no matter how much the idea of seeking assistance from their distant, horrific counterparts made his stomach churn. He gnawed on his lip while searching for an appropriate follow-up question. “And Iwabo Pfah is in a position to help Lamiakk?”
Rhea’s lip curled with disgust. “Iwabo Pfah doesn’t give two damns about Lamiakk, which will make this complicated. But even though the Legion practically branded Varmarin with a tracking beacon last night—it was Varmarin, by the way—he keeps finding ways to lose the palace guard with his stupid Verith stealth. Grimm is running out of options. And the Iwabo Pfah Grand Council does care about themselves… and about Grimm, apparently. Those are the things I’m supposed to leverage in these talking points.”
Thirtyx sensed that he was wading into even more sensitive information. Was it safe for him to keep probing? Did he have much choice? Yesterday, he’d told Rhea she could rely on him—that she could trust him with her stress, and she didn’t have to bear it alone.
He swallowed hard. “How does Iwabo Pfah caring about themselves factor into them helping us? And why do they care about Grimmary?”
“Because apparently Grimm is the reason either world is still standing,” Benn said to the wall. “Which is why the Iwabo Pfah Grand Council created him.”
Calley Jones 