Lord Gowan rose, his hands tight balls at his sides. “Beaten by a barbarian nation? Morrighan is a strong kingdom. We’ve stood for centuries—the oldest and most lasting realm on the continent. We are too great to fall!” Several lords rumbled agreement, rolling their eyes at the naïve princess. The crowd shifted on their feet.
“Are we greater than the Ancients, Lord Gowan?” I asked. “Did they not fall? Is the evidence not all around us? Look at the fallen temples that form our foundations, the magnificent tumbled bridges, the wondrous cities. The Ancients flew among the stars! They whispered, and their voices boomed over mountaintops! They were angry, and the ground shook with fear! Their greatness was unmatched.” I eyed the other lords. “And yet they and their world is gone. No one is too great to fall.”
Lord Gowan stood firm. “You forget that we are the chosen Remnant.”
Another lord called out. “Yes! The children of Morrighan! The Holy Text says we have special favor.”
I stared, uncertain if I should tell them, remembering Pauline’s disbelief, afraid I would push them too far. The air stirred warm, circling. They waited, breaths held, heads turning, as if they felt it too.
Dihara whispered in my ear. The truths of the world wish to be known.
I looked at Pauline, the struggle in her eyes, the truest daughter of Morrighan. She lifted two fingers to her lips and nodded.
The Royal Scholar added his nod to hers.
Tell them. Venda’s voice reached out to me across centuries, still stepping forward, unable to rest. She was blood kin to this kingdom as much as the kingdom named after her.
Only one thing was certain in my heart. Long, long ago, three women who loved each other had been torn apart. Three women who had once been family.
Tell them a story, Jezelia.
And I did.
* * *
“Gather close, sisters of my heart,
Brothers of my soul,
Family of my flesh,
And I will tell you the story of sisters, a family, and a tribe, blood kin of another kind, sewn together by devastation, and loyalty.”
I told them of Gaudrel, one of the original Ancients, a woman who led a small band of survivors through a desolate world, trusting a knowing within her. She fed her grandchild stories when there was nothing else to offer, stories to help a child understand a harsh world, and to keep her silent when predators drew too close.
I told them of Gaudrel’s siser, Venda, another survivor who kept her people alive with her wits, her words, and her trust. After being lured away from her family, she would not be silenced, not even by death, reaching through the centuries for hope for an oppressed people.
And I told them about Morrighan, Gaudrel’s grandchild, a girl stolen by a thief named Harik, who sold her to a scavenger for a sack of grain. Morrighan was a girl brave and true, who led the scavengers to a place of safety. She trusted the strength within her that was passed down by Gaudrel and the surviving Ancients, a knowing they turned to when they had nothing else, a seeing without eyes, a hearing without ears. Morrighan was not chosen by the gods. She was one of many who were spared, a girl like any among us, which made her bravery all the greater.
“Morrighan called on an ancient strength within her to survive—and helped others do the same. That is what we must do now.”
My gaze skimmed the plaza, the lords, and those standing on the balcony with me. My eyes paused on Rafe and my throat tightened. “Nothing lasts forever,” I continued, “and I see our end in sight.”
I leaned forward, focusing on the row of lords. “That’s right, Lord Gowan. Sight. I have seen the destruction and ruin. I have seen the Dragon bearing down on us. I have heard the crunch of bone between his jaws. I have felt his breath on my neck. He is coming, this I promise you.
“If we do not prepare now, hope is gone, and you will feel the bite of his teeth as I have. Shall we cower and wait for the Komizar to destroy us, or do we prepare and survive as our kingdom’s namesake did?”
A small voice.
Prepare.
Another, prepare.
A fist in the air, Gwyneth’s. Prepare.
The plaza ignited in shared determination to survive.
I kissed two fingers, lifting them to the heavens, one for the lost, and one for those yet to come, and called back to them, “We prepare!”
CHAPTER SEVENTY-THREE
“Your Highness.”
Rafe, Kaden, and I were just passing the plaza fountain when the general intercepted me. A dozen soldiers, including Gwyneth, Pauline, Berdi, and Jeb, came to a grinding halt behind us. The general reached out and took my hand, patting it. “Forgive me for my boldness, Princess Arabella, but I am relieved that the misunderstanding of your treason has been cleared up.”
I looked at him uncertainly, already sensing this wasn’t going to end well. I remembered him only vaguely, as one of the generals in longest service to the crown. “It wasn’t a misunderstanding, General Howland. It was a well-orchestrated lie and plot.”
He nodded, his lower lip curling in a pout. “Yes, of course it was, a plot by traitors of the worst kind, and we’re all indebted to you for exposing them. Thank you.”
“No thanks are necessary, General. Exposing treachery is the duty of every—”
“Yes,” he said quickly, “duty! And that is what we wish to talk to you about.” Generals Perry, Marques, and three other officers stood behind him. “With your father ill and your brothers away, so much has fallen on your tender shoulders. I want you to know there’s no need for you to worry yourself about military matters. I can see you’ve already gotten yourself worked up over this barbarian army, which is understandable considering what you’ve been through at their hands.”
I swallowed. No, not going well at all. Rafe and Kaden shifted dangerously on their feet beside me, but I put my hands out on either side. Wait. They got the message.
“Worked up, General?” I asked. “Have you ever met the Komizar?”
He laughed. “Barbarians! They change their rulers more often than their underclothes. Today’s Komizar is tomorrow’s forgotten gutter brat.”
He glanced over his shoulder at the other officers, sharing a small chuckle with them, then turned back to me. He tucked his chin close to his chest and angled his head, and I suspected he was ready to confide a great truth that I had overlooked. “What I am telling you is this is not something for you to fret about. You are not trained in military tactics or even in assessing threats, nor are you a soldier. No one expects you to be. You’re free to return to your other duties. We will handle this.”
I smiled and in my sweetest voice said, “Well, that is a relief, General, because I did so want to get back to my needlework. Would you care to pat me on the head now and send me on my way?”
His smile faded.
I stepped closer, narrowing my eyes. “But before you do, would you please tell me how you’d address the fact that both of these soldiers at my side agree with me about the threat that you think I got worked up over?”
He gave Rafe and Kaden a cursory glance, then sighed. “They’re both healthy young men, and how shall I say this delicately … easily influenced by a pretty face.” His smile returned as if he had just educated me on the ways of the world.
I was so astonished at his shallow opinion of all of us that for a moment I couldn’t speak. I eyed the fountain behind him, but Rafe and Kaden beat me to it, their rage bubbling ahead of mine. They stepped forward in unison, each scooping him under an arm, and dragged him backward. The other officers leapt out of their way as they hurled him into the fountain.
Rafe and Kaden turned, eyeing the other officers, daring them to step forward to help the general. I watched their rage turn to satisfaction when they heard the general coughing and sputtering behind them. My rage wasn’t so easily cooled, and I marched to the fountain edge.
“And now, General, I hope I can say this delicately enough for your tender ears. In spite of my utter disgu
st, instead of calling you an ignorant, delusional, pompous, self-absorbed buffoon, I am going to extend my hand and strongly suggest that you take it, because I will not let your patronizing insults nor my pride get in the way of saving Morrighan. As much as I may loathe the idea, I need whatever miserable expertise you will bring to the table, and so when we convene to plan our strategies at a time and place I shall designate, you will be there ready to serve your kingdom. Because, make no mistake about it, I am ruling Morrighan now as my father’s regent, and I will get worked up over silly little things like traitors and armies that seek to destroy us. Do you understand?”
His chest was a barrel heaving with anger and water dripped from his nose. I extended my hand, and he stared at it, looking at the other officers, who dared not rush to his aid. He reached out and took my hand and stepped from the fountain. He nodded as if complying with the order and walked away, the sucking sound of water sloshing in his boots. I didn’t think the word pretty was swimming in his thoughts anymore.
Gwyneth heaved out a generous whuf of air. “Well! I’m glad you didn’t call him a buffoon.”
“Or pompous,” Pauline added.
“Or ignorant,” Jeb chimed in.
“Or an ass,” Kaden said.
“I didn’t call him an ass.”
Rafe grunted. “You may as well have.”
Now it was settled. I may have had the confidence of the troops, but at least a few of the officers were still entrenched in a system that had no place for me. Some things last, even after a decisive uprising, and I knew they’d be counting the days until my father recovered or my brothers returned.
CHAPTER SEVENTY-FOUR
RAFE
We stood on a long stone dais that looked out on the camp. I imagined Piers setting the first stone when it was only a fledgling kingdom. The dais was now eight stones high, with centuries of battles and victories behind it. Anyone who stood here commanded the attention of the entire camp. Lia spoke to the troops first, and then she introduced me. It was the third group we had addressed. It was necessary to keep the numbers small, especially in this last group. It held all the newest recruits according to the Field Marshal—a hundred in all. I told this group of soldiers what I had told the others. My presence and that of my soldiers did not mean an invasion, only an effort to help stabilize and prepare their kingdom. I assured them I had no other motives, because with the looming threat, what benefited Morrighan also benefited Dalbreck.
When I finished, Lia spoke again, emphasizing the joint effort of our venture and evoking the nods of the generals who stood on the dais with us, including the water-soaked ass whose tongue had dried up considerably since his dunking yesterday.
I watched Lia. Watched every movement. Watched her pace the dais as her voice rose, reaching the last row. Watched the soldiers watching her, their attention fixed on every word. Whatever goodwill she had sown before she had left I didn’t know, but the respect the lords had halfheartedly yielded was given freely here. The soldiers listened, and I saw what I had already known, what I hadn’t wanted to accept back in Venda. She was a natural leader.
This was where she needed to be. Letting her go had been the right choice, even if the decision still burned in my gut.
She spoke again, this time getting ready to introduce Kaden, and we were all prepared for what was to come. She began her speech as she had the others, but then there was a noticeable departure—at least for some of us.
“Vendan drazhones, le bravena enar kadravé, te Azione.”
Jeb, Natiya, and Sven stood behind us, whispering a translation for those of us on the dais who didn’t know the language. Vendan brothers, I give you your comrade, the Assassin. Lia lifted Kaden’s hand with her last words, the two of them standing together as a strong unified front, then she stepped back so he could speak to the troops.
It was both trap and opportunity. We knew Vendans had infiltrated the citadelle guard, but we needed assurance they weren’t also among the ranks. The Field Marshal and other officers could vouch for the majority, but newer recruits who claimed to be from the farther reaches of Morrighan were more of an uncertainty. Lia had addressed them in Morrighese at first, but then switched tongues as effortlessly as a breath. A dozen of us stood on either side of her. It appeared we were there for support, but we had been carefully watching the soldiers, their eyes, movements, and twitches, the clues that would reveal understanding or confusion.
Kaden continued the address, not just to root out, but to appeal to Vendans like himself, who might be swayed. He and Lia had arrived at this strategy together, because Vendans working with us could be useful.
“Trust the Siarrah, my brothers,” Jeb interpreted quietly. “The Meurasi have welcomed her, as have the clans of the plains and valleys. They trust her. The Komizar is the one the Siarrah fights, not our brothers and sisters who are still in Venda. Now is your chance to step forward and fight with us. Remain silent, and you will die.”
Most of the soldiers turned to each other in confusion, not understanding the sudden change of tongue. But a few remained focused, their attention locked on Kaden.
Second row, a frozen gaze. The soldier’s pupils were pinpoints. Worried. Understanding. But he didn’t come forward.
Another on the far right.
“Third row, second from end,” Pauline whispered.
And then in the first row, a hesitant step forward.
This prompted another in the middle.
Only four.
“Back row, left end,” Lia whispered to Kaden. “Keep speaking.”
Five Vendan soldiers were found among the ranks, and with the eight citadelle guards, that totaled thirteen imposters—which in itself was a feat. Learning to speak flawless Morrighese could take years. The troops were dismissed while other soldiers moved in to detain the suspected Vendans.
With Lia’s first break in three hours, her aunt Bernette swooped in with medicine. Lia took a chug from the bottle, circles still under her eyes. I watched her wipe the corner of her mouth, the tired blink of her eyes, the leveling of her shoulders as she faced her next task—interrogating the prisoners again, hoping one would slip with information or turn on the others as the court physician had. Suddenly, Terravin was selfishly fierce within me, the air, the tastes, every moment, every word between us, and I wished we could have it again, if only for a few hours, wished I really was the farmer that she had wanted me to be, a farmer who knew how to grow melons, and she was a tavern maid who had never heard of Venda.
I watched her walk away with Kaden to speak with the Vendans, and then I left in another direction. We weren’t in Terravin and never would be again. Wishes were for farmers, not kings.
CHAPTER SEVENTY-FIVE
PAULINE
The Timekeeper was beside himself. He stood off to the side of the dais, fidgeting, waiting for Lia to finish. He had been exonerated, but now he had to follow Lia instead of dictate to her. His pocket watch and ledger had become useless. Tradition and protocol had always been the wheels and grease of Morrighan. Now Lia was.
Her aunt Bernette was standing beside him, waiting too. I saw pride in her expression but also worry. No one was quite sure how to navigate this new Lia. She moved about Civica with force and purpose and no apology. No words were bit back. She didn’t have the time. As far as I could see, no one doubted her—she had saved the king’s life and exposed traitors who had been plotting right beneath their noses—but I knew they wondered what she had seen and endured these past months. She was a curiosity.
As was I.
I saw the glances and heard the whispers about Pauline, the quiet, meek attendant who had always followed the rules. What had become of that girl? I wondered myself. Some parts of her were still here, other parts gone forever, and maybe others, I was still trying to find. It wasn’t just tradition and protocol that had been shattered, but also trust.
When the last address was finished, we made our way down the steps at the end of the dais.
“Hold up,” Gwyneth called to Natiya, then sidled up to me. “When are you coming back to the citadelle? I don’t like you off by yourself at the abbey.”
“Natiya’s there too.”
Gwyneth grunted. “And that’s supposed to comfort me? She’s a kettle ready to explode.”
We both watched Natiya, who still scanned the dispersing troops, her hand resting on the hilt of the sword that dangled from her hip. Ours weren’t the only stares she drew. A young girl armed with three weapons—and happy to flaunt them—was not a common sight for anyone in Civica.
“She’s finding her way,” I said.
Gwyneth’s eyes narrowed. We both knew Natiya’s history. “I suppose she is,” she sighed, and turned back to me, saying she was taking Natiya back to the citadelle. “She needs a break from her murderous ways.” She shot one last pointed look at me. “I’ll see you there too—with all your belongings. Right?”
“We’ll see,” I answered.
A frown pulled at the corner of her mouth, but she didn’t push the matter further. She strolled over to Natiya and slung her arm over her shoulder. “Come on, you bloodthirsty imp. Gwyneth’s going to teach you a few new things about subtlety today.”
I left in the opposite direction. I was just past the statue of Piers at the gate entrance when I heard someone call my name.
“Pauline! Wait up.”
I turned to see Mikael, and I came to a dead stop, stunned that he had the nerve to approach me.
“I know what you’re thinking, Pauline,” he said, “but I was only following orders. I’m a soldier and—”
“And you’ve already spent all the reward money? Or are you afraid now because I’m part of the new cabinet and I could do all manner of things to you if I choose to?” His eyelids twitched, and I knew I had hit the mark. “Get out of my sight, you groveling parasite!”
I pushed past him, but he grabbed my arm and whirled me around. “What about our baby? Where is—”