The Destiny Detour

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Rosaliy

Without any love-struck allies remaining, Rosaliy was locked away until the trio in charge was ready to leave. Since nobody wanted to haul her to the prison just to bring her back in the evening to track Daniella, there was no hope to find out who else had been taken prisoner or to try to speak to Arlana. All the frantic work of the evening stopped during the heat of the day, and Rosaliy quickly understood why as the heat in her bare stone room climbed.

She begged for water, but her pleading fell on deaf ears. Even Iketa seemed meaner than before, which hardly seemed possible. So Rosaliy slid down in a corner and tried not to fall asleep from the sweltering heat and humidity of Flifary Island during the day. All she wanted to do was curl up and hope her problems disappeared around her.

In her heat-induced despair, Rosaliy was certain anyone else trapped here would have known what to do. The Flifary never could have held Katyrinna prisoner in a locked room; she had the power to bring the temple down to the ground with a swipe of her hand. Issabeth would have single-handedly retaken the temple by now, with or without magic. Even Drake could have done something worthwhile with his time as a prisoner. She hoped he was safe. Nobody had mentioned him, so she hoped he had been forgotten in all the chaos. She never should have dragged him along in the first place. At least he would be free of the terrible love spell, assuming she ever saw him again.

From the chatter Rosaliy understood, it sounded like these rogue Flifary were disappointed by Kat's absence. They had a whole plan for her that had come to naught. And with the destruction of the divination room and the loss of the divination stone, the Flifary were running blind. Daniella and Arlana had created a window of opportunity. If only Rosaliy was doing something with that window other than feeling sorry for herself.

Her door opened and a bowl full of water was shoved into her room by a dark, bare foot. Water sloshed onto the floor as the stone bowl scraped forward. The door slammed closed. Rosaliy scrambled over. First, she shoveled the lukewarm liquid into her dry mouth with her hands. Next, she drenched the corner of her skirt and scrubbed at the foul slime drying in crusty scales all over her body. To truly rid herself of the smell of death would take an overflowing bathtub filled with salts and a complete change of clothes, but she had made a few fingerlengths of progress by the next time the door opened.

Dalor marched in. "Your lifeline is about to be clipped, so you might want to take advantage of this second chance," he announced. "What do you need to track Daniella?"

Within the throes of self-pity, Rosaliy had managed to pull together the shards of a plan. She would stall as long as she could. She rattled off a list for Dalor, throwing in a few flowers and a plant she knew would be hard to find, but she was not feeling brave enough to push her luck too far.

Her stalling techniques were to little avail. Other than fierce crankiness, Iketa's one power seemed to be an ability to whirl anyone away to any place with the swish of her hand and a blast of fog. If anything, Rosaliy's attempt to stall gave Iketa more practice using this handy talent. By sunset, Dalor had what Rosaliy needed to work her enchantment on the blood-stained handkerchief.

"How will this locate Daniella?" asked Dalor suspiciously, turning over the chunk of cloth in his hands.

If the enchantment was working properly, the handkerchief would fly to its owner like a bird, drawn by the blood connection. Right now, it fluttered feebly in Dalor's hands.

"It won't, directly," answered Rosaliy honestly, taking back the cloth bird. "That's why I have to get close."

The Flifary took Rosaliy and her little tracker to half a dozen Taragonian locations, including a farming community in the foothills and the outskirts of Taragon Castle, set into the Ascleon mountains as a grand gateway to the rocky country. Each time, the handkerchief lifted from Rosaliy's hands with a jerky swish and flapped its way straight south, sensing its closest blood match—Corin. Her little enchantment was not powerful enough to draw the fluttering bit of cloth all the way to Kianne, so after a valiant attempt, the handkerchief tumbled to a pitiful end, merely flopping sadly on the rocky ground.