The ringing in Phae’s ears was subsiding. She climbed over the lip of the cellar door and hurried down the ladder, surefooted. The strong smell of musty roots filled the space, reminding her of mushrooms and worms. Fabric sacks were stacked neatly along the far wall. It was a small, cozy space, smaller than Winemiller’s cabin in the mountains. She rubbed her hands together, feeling small and defenseless. She had three protectors it seemed, but she still felt vulnerable.

Tyrus came down with the lantern, revealing the supplies hanging from pegs on the frame. The floor was dirt but packed hard. Each scuff of her boot awakened a little plume. The Kishion came down last, reaching out and swinging the cellar door down behind him as he descended.

Phae walked hesitantly into the cellar, absorbing the heavy aroma in the air, feeling it sink into her bones. She saw another ladder at the far side and a trapdoor leading up to the inside of the cabin. Smart, she thought. More than one way to escape.

She looked at her father. “You are alive.”

Tyrus seated himself in the center of the floor and set the lantern down in the middle. The Prince edged toward the ladder they had descended and remained standing for a moment, searching the room with his gaze. Then he settled on the floor as well.

“I am,” he answered. “Sit. There is much we must say to each other.”

The Kishion stared at Tyrus, his face impassive. “Where are we?” he asked in a whisper-like voice.

“Alkire,” Tyrus replied. “But just for the night. It drains the rod when I bring others with me. It needs time to regain its power. We will be more difficult to track beneath the ground though. That should give us some time to rest. And to talk.”

Phae rubbed her arms, still staring at the other ladder. She glanced back at the man she knew to be her father. Her heart was jumbled with conflicting emotions. That he was even alive was a shock and a thrill. But she was also wary and concerned about his motives. He had abandoned her as a baby and now had come to make her part of some deeper purpose. If that purpose was related to the Scourgelands, she wanted nothing to do with it. What was the proper way to greet such a stranger?

“Sit, child,” Tyrus bid, motioning to the space on the other side of the lantern. “I’m sure you have many questions.”

Phae stared down at him, studying the haggard look on his face. Yet he seemed genuinely pleased to see her. His eyes were fierce yet gentle, as if he tamed great emotions churning inside of him. He did not want to frighten her. She nodded and obeyed.

“What is your name?” he asked her gently.

“Phae,” she replied.

The name seemed to startle him. “Really?”

She nodded. “That surprises you? Was I to be named something else?”

Tyrus half-sighed, half-chuckled in amusement. “Winemiller named you? How interesting. Yet there are no coincidences. I will have to ask him about it sometime.”

Phae stared at him hard. “Why does it surprise you what he named me?”

He smiled at her in a broken-hearted sort of way, as if breathing caused him pain. “It was the name I gave your mother.” He sighed, staring down at the lantern. In a moment, he had mastered his emotions again. His eyes were like flint. “What would you know of me?”

Phae folded her arms. “I am your daughter?”

He nodded.

“Why did you abandon me?”

Tyrus gazed up at the Kishion. “I am demonstrating my good intentions by speaking freely in front of you. With this knowledge, you will have power to stop me and my plans. I give it to you freely, because I believe you were meant to join in our quest. You took the blast meant to kill my daughter. For that, I thank you. You’ve earned my trust. I hope before this night is done that I have earned yours.”

“I left the ring back in Stonehollow,” the Kishion answered. “I think the magic was destroyed, but to be sure, I left it behind. That way the Arch-Rike will not hear you through my ears. I believe the connection between us is severed. The ring is what allowed it. Trust for trust. But I will hear what you have to say before making up my mind.”

Phae glanced at the Kishion, saw the claw marks on his face vivid in the lamplight. She shuddered, knowing he was still very capable of killing her.

Tyrus turned his attention back to her. “I will answer you as honestly as I can. You may not like to hear what I have to say. It may trouble you. It will frighten you.” He sighed deeply again, brow furrowing with consternation. “There is even a great possibility that my plans will result in your death. But know this, child. I will lay down my own life before I allow that to happen to you. So will Prince Aran. And so will that gentleman behind you. If we three cannot protect you from the dangers you face, then I do not know what else I can do.”