Grijio dismounted his horse and shuffled through his pack. When he found what he was looking for, he held out a letter to her.
Phaedra recognised the writing and she refused to take it. She refused to be controlled by another’s cruel plan, or by a pledge made before she was born. But Grijio continued to hold out his hand.
‘Quintana gave me four absolute instructions,’ he said firmly. ‘And I’m not to return until my work is done.’
Phaedra walked away and sat on the rock face that gave her a view of the caves. On a clear day, she’d be able to see Alonso to the west, and she wondered if she would be better off there. Grijio came to sit beside her, taking her hand and placing the letter there.
‘She’s playing with you, Grijio,’ Phaedra warned. ‘It’s what she’ll do now with the little power she has.’
‘If you say another word, Phaedra, I think you’ll have much regret,’ he said sadly.
Phaedra refused to open the letter. In the distance she could see Lucian’s mountain and she kept her gaze fixed ahead. The sun was setting early and her body was beginning to feel the cold and all she could think of was Lucian’s fleece that made him resemble a bear.
‘Did I tell you that once I sat out on a rooftop in early winter and got a chill and almost died?’ Grijio said with an exaggerated sniff. ‘We’re very fragile, us lastborns.’
She glanced at him and could see that, despite the soft, fair curls and gentle face, this lad was steadfast in his decisions and she knew he would not move until she read the letter. So she opened it.
Dearest Phaedra,
I asked Grij not to give this to you until you reached the ridge before the valley, so you wouldn’t turn back. Because I know you well, and I couldn’t bear you not taking the journey back to the valley where I know you belong.
I remember on the day I was separated from Froi outside Paladozza, I learnt that I could be loved. That was his greatest gift to me. From you, I learnt that I could love my people. Don’t ever underestimate the power of that. I needed to learn. How can I guide the little King without that lesson?
We speak the words gods’ blessed again and again in this kingdom. I’m not sure what they mean. But know this. That what you have in spirit is a gift indeed, Phaedra of Alonso. It’s a true blessing from the gods. It’s one I will be grateful for each day of my life. My king will be raised with the privilege of his mother having known you.
When I saw the list of consorts I knew I would never have true happiness in my spousal bed. But you love your Mont, Phaedra. So it’s only fair that one of us finds deep happiness. You said repeatedly that you’d never leave me and I knew you’d keep that pledge. But what I feared most is that you’d come to hate me for trapping you in the Citavita.
As I write this I feel as if I’m broken in all these pieces that only you and Froi and little Tariq can put together. I will miss your presence every day of my life.
Quintana of Charyn
Phaedra stared at the words. Read them again and again. She scrambled to her feet, hurried to her horse and mounted it.
‘Take me back, Grijio. I’m begging you.’
Grijio shook his head and got to his feet.
‘She said that if I returned you to her, she’d never speak to me again.’
‘Take me back,’ she cried. ‘Please. You don’t know her, Grij. You don’t know how lonely she can get.’
‘I’ve lost too many friends, Phaedra,’ he said. ‘Through betrayal or distance or circumstance. I couldn’t bear to lose her.’
Grijio was resolute as he mounted his horse. ‘My pledge to Quintana was that I’d get you to your valley.’
They arrived later that afternoon and her heart leapt to see the busyness of the camp dwellers’ day from where they were standing on the path behind the caves. Their lives seemed full of talk. It’s what she had noticed these past months. That Charynites had found their voices. But she wondered how long the valley dwellers would stay here. Perhaps a new Charyn meant there was a place for them across the kingdom. Gargarin’s focus was to bring the dry lands back to life for farming. It would take the pressure off the overcrowded provinces. In the months to come when children were born to this valley, the people would have to leave and find a home, not a temporary camp. Phaedra wondered what would become of them all.
She led Grijio between the caves and saw Cora and Jorja in a vegetable patch crowded with produce and colour. Close by, a few of the men were roasting a boar on a spit, and women were scrubbing clothes by the stream. Phaedra’s heart leapt to see one or two of the camp dwellers with swollen bellies. She gave a sob of laughter, and then someone pointed up to where she sat astride the horse, and as Phaedra dismounted, the valley dwellers rushed to greet her from caves above and below. Cora and Jorja heard the commotion and turned and suddenly she was running towards them and she was clasped in their arms weeping.
‘Look at you,’ Jorja said.
‘You’ve a bit more weight,’ Cora joined in.
‘Well, there’s a bit more food to be had in the palace,’ Phaedra laughed, looking back to search for Grijio.
‘How is she?’ Jorja asked. ‘How are they both? Is he as beautiful as they say?’
Phaedra held a hand to her chest. More tears because there would never be words to describe the little King.
‘Enough of the crying,’ Cora snapped, but she hugged Phaedra all the same.
Grijio reached them as Harker and Kasabian approached and Phaedra completed the introductions.
‘We’ve met, sir,’ Grijio said to Harker, shaking his hand. ‘On the day you took this valley.’
‘How are things in the Citavita?’ Harker asked.
‘Hopeful, sir.’
Grijio searched through his pack and handed Harker the mail. ‘These are for the Lumaterans. Is there a chance they can reach the palace soon? Gargarin of Abroi was very insistent.’
Harker shook his head. ‘When it comes to messages and mail, we have to wait for the Monts to visit and then it’s up to chance when they next visit their palace. Sometimes a week passes. But we’ll do our best.’
‘I’m presuming that I’d be expecting too much if Froi of Lumatere was here in the valley?’ Grij said.
Harker shook his head again with a grimace. ‘He’s on his way to Charyn, the way we’ve heard it.’
Phaedra turned to Grijio, understanding his disappointment.
‘Rest first and then go,’ she urged, knowing he’d want to see his friend. ‘You may catch him in the Citavita if you’re lucky.’
‘And which of you is Cora?’ Grijio asked.
‘Me,’ Cora snapped. ‘Why?’
He retrieved a tiny purse from his pocket and held it out to her. Everyone crowded around Cora, curious to see what it was.
‘She’s rewarded you with gold,’ someone murmured.
‘Perhaps a trinket.’
They waited as Cora emptied the contents into the palm of her hand and soon there were sighs of disappointment. But Cora looked up and caught her brother’s eye and Phaedra saw a smile on both their faces as they studied the seeds.
‘Where would she have found herself a pair of Klin tree seeds?’ Kasabian asked, as Cora placed them in his hand. He clenched a fist and pressed a kiss to it. ‘These seeds grow hope,’ he said.
‘I have one more letter,’ Grijio said. ‘Quintana said I had to deliver it by hand. To Florenza of Nebia.’
‘My daughter?’ Harker asked, perplexed.
‘By hand, you say. Why?’ Jorja asked.
Grijio shrugged. ‘Quintana said I could not leave until the letter was read out loud, and then I had to wait for Florenza of Nebia’s response. So then Her Highness would be sure it was delivered.’
‘I’ll go find her,’ Harker said
More of the valley dwellers came to greet Phaedra and she introduced them to Grijio, who seemed fascinated by the way they lived.
‘For now, every family is assigned to their own cave with ample privacy,’ Jorja sa
id. ‘It was difficult for us during the time of Donashe and his friends. Families were separated.’
‘But still a blessing that our Quintana found herself in a cave with you women,’ Grijio said.
‘Phaedra!’ they heard Florenza cry, and next moment they were in each other’s arms, laughing and crying.
‘I was with the Mont girls when we heard the news,’ Florenza said. ‘Are you back for good?’
‘I am indeed.’
‘And how is she?’ Florenza asked solemnly. ‘I dream of them both. All the time, I do. Is she happy?’
Phaedra didn’t know how to answer that truthfully.
‘The little King is the most beautiful creature I’ve ever seen in my life,’ she said. ‘Is that not true, Grij?’
Grij was staring at Florenza, who was now staring at Grij with a hand held to her face to hide her nose, which had survived its ordeal in the caves with quite a large bump.
‘Yes … yes, of course,’ he said, flustered, clearing his throat.
‘Father said you have something,’ Florenza said, and Phaedra watched as Jorja’s hand brushed a leaf from Florenza’s hair surreptitiously. Cora exchanged a look with Phaedra.
Grijio removed a letter from his pack and handed it to Florenza.
‘She requested that you read it aloud before me,’ he said. ‘So then she’d be sure that it was read.’
‘Why?’ Cora asked bluntly.
‘Hurry up and read it, Florenza,’ Jorja said.
Florenza broke the seal of the letter.
‘Dear Florenza,
‘I hope all is fine with you. Phaedra will tell you more about life here. The weather is quite unspectacular and so are most of those who live in the palace …’
‘They are,’ Phaedra agreed.
‘Of course, I’m yet to meet a girl such as you, Florenza, who crawled through the sewers of Nebia to save the life of those Serkers and whose nose was broken as she fearlessly fought a man who was a threat to myself and the future King of Charyn …’
Florenza touched her nose again, self-consciously.
‘You crawled through the sewers?’ Grij asked in awe. ‘To save the Serkers?’
‘And broke her nose as she fearlessly fought a man who was a threat to Quintana and the future King of Charyn,’ Jorja reminded him.
Florenza removed her hand from her nose and continued reading.
‘Anyway, enough of all that. I was wondering if you’d like to come and visit some time. You can give your response to Grijio, the brilliant scholarly son of the Provincaro of Paladozza and one of the heroic masterminds of my rescue in the Citavita.’
Phaedra burst out a laugh and stared at Cora. This time it was Florenza who looked up in awe.
‘You were the mastermind?’ Florenza asked Grijio.
He waved a hand in embarrassment. ‘One of them, anyway,’ he murmured.
‘Our little savage has turned matchmaker,’ Cora muttered. ‘What have they done to her?’
Lucian finished helping Orly with the fence post and they both stood back to assess the work. Lotte joined them soon after and handed Lucian a hot brew. There wasn’t much talk between them, although he could sense that Lotte was dying to say something and Lucian knew exactly what that was.
‘Lady Zarah,’ Lotte said politely. ‘She seems a fine girl.’
‘Yes, indeed,’ Lucian said curtly. He was sick and tired of being asked at every turn if it was true that he was betrothed. No, he wanted to shout. Fabrications from an overzealous lord who wants a cut in our fleece market!
But he held his tongue.
‘Some are saying she’ll be your new wife, Lucian.’
Orly muttered something rude and Lucian had to agree.
Lotte peered beyond him towards the path that ran through the mountain.
‘Is that one of your aunts?’ she asked, somewhat alarmed. ‘Is she running? Sweet Goddess, Lucian. Something’s happened.’
Lucian leapt over Orly’s post to reach his aunt.
‘Lucian, Lucian,’ she called out, her face lit with excitement. ‘Phaedra’s returned to the valley!’
His mouth was suddenly dry. His heart was pounding too fast, his face felt aflame. Lotte and Orly caught up with them, Lotte trilling with excitement. He had to get away from them all to think clearly. He had to work out what to do and how not to ruin things. But he couldn’t do it here, and it was clear to Lucian that there’d be no more work done with Lotte and Orly, so he gently steered his aunt back home.
‘Too much work to be done around here to be wasting time,’ he said to her calmly. They passed Jory and the lads, who were rounding up the sheep on Yael’s spread.
‘See,’ he said, pointing. ‘The lads have got the right idea. Work and no talk.’
‘Lucian,’ Jory hollered, jumping from his mount and running towards them. ‘Phaedra’s back.’
‘Be quick! You’ll lose her again!’ another cousin shouted.
In the Mont market square, Lucian was surrounded instantly. By everyone. He hadn’t seen such a gathering since Isaboe had returned for the first time since the death of her child. The mountain had celebrated that day. Finnikin had begged Lucian, ‘Tell them that their sorrow will break her. She’s come for their joy.’ And the Monts had tried.
Today, he saw a truer version of that joy.
‘I’m going down to Lumatere,’ he muttered and there was a collective sigh of annoyance.
‘Lucian, don’t be ridiculous,’ his cousin Alda snapped. ‘If you’re going to betroth yourself to that useless Tascan’s daughter, you’ll be insulting the women of this mountain and the memory of your poor mother.’
‘Don’t know what was wrong with the first wife,’ Pitts the cobbler said.
‘Yes, yes,’ most agreed.
‘I always said that if Phaedra of Alonso’s people weren’t cursed, those hips of hers were made for child-bearing,’ Ettore the blacksmith piped up.
Lucian caught his yata’s eye and he could see she was seething about something. She turned to them all, fire blazing in her eyes.
‘When Lady Zarah visited last, the little miss turned up her nose at the food on our table! I jest you not!’ she said.
There were gasps of outrage all around.
‘A good riddance to her now that Phaedra’s back!’
There was a cheer at Yata’s words.
Goddess forbid, Lucian had to get off this mountain.
Most things had changed.
At the bridge leading to the Citavita was a guard station. No one was permitted to cross without dismounting. A garrison was camped on a piece of land by the road, swarming with soldiers asking questions and allowing entry onto the bridge, one person at a time.
‘What’s your business?’ Froi was asked. He recognised no one among the guards.
‘I’m from Lumatere,’ he replied. Lies only created problems. Even so, the man looked at him suspiciously. He indicated for Froi to raise his arms.
‘Shoulder, ankle and here,’ Froi said, patting the sword in its scabbard at his side. ‘All weapons revealed. Is there a rule about being armed?’
‘No, but there’s a rule about having a smart mouth.’
And some things stayed the same.
Unlike every other person before and after him, Froi found himself escorted across the bridge. Beast was just as disgusted. Halfway across, Froi stopped, daring to look down the gravina and then ahead through the mist at the splendour of the Citavita’s stone piled high.
How could he have imagined that Gargarin’s sigh that first time they arrived here was of anything but pleasure?
He continued walking, his heart thumping with anticipation. Home, it sang. You’re home. But he argued back with that part of his heart that couldn’t let go of the Flatlands. Until he stepped onto the Citavita. Home, his heart sang.
He steered Beast off the bridge and looked around. There were no street lords demanding a coin for use of the bridge. There was no wretched line of Citavitans desperate t
o leave the carnage behind. Instead, a marketplace was set up at the base of the rock and there was haggling and shouting. And laughter. Froi had never heard laughter in the Citavita.
He saw the sentinels instantly, guarding the roof of the Crow’s Inn. He imagined Scarpo’s men would be swarming the capital now that most of its people were returning to their homes. As he was led towards the walls of the city, a dozen or so soldiers came striding towards him.
‘Now that doesn’t surprise me,’ the guard escorting him said. ‘A welcoming party.’
‘My favourite type of party in the world,’ Froi muttered.
Could he expect less, leading a Serker horse?
‘I’m actually on my way to the godshouse to see the Priestling Arjuro,’ Froi explained. He wasn’t much in the mood for being interrogated by a group of soldiers who didn’t know him and wouldn’t believe a word he said.
‘The Priestling’s a busy man.’
Before they could exchange another word, one of the approaching soldiers broke free and lifted Froi off the ground in an embrace.
Mort.
‘Where you been, Froi?’
Mort was shoved out of the way and Florik was there.
‘We’ve been taking odds to see whether you’d return,’ the Lasconian said.
Froi looked from one to the other, laughing. ‘You’re both on the same duty?’
Mort and Florik placed arms around each other’s shoulders. They looked strange in uniform, but it suited them.
‘I’m teaching him thing or two,’ Mort said. ‘Lasconian lads know nothing.’
‘Except how to speak better than Turlan lads,’ Florik said. ‘So I’m teaching him a thing or two.’
Within moments, more of the fortress lads were surrounding him and Froi embraced and shook hands with as many as he recognised.
‘We take things from here,’ Mort told Froi’s guard. Mort moved in closer. ‘I got rank,’ he whispered. ‘Turlans outrank everyone on this rock.’