In the past months, I had traveled to every province in Venda, meeting with the people and appointing new governors. At least half were women and elders of the clans. From this point forward, they would lose their positions by the will of the people, not by a sword in their back, and that was how I would maintain my position as well.
The work and the decisions never ended. With Dalbreck and Morrighan leading by example, the Lesser Kingdoms agreed to new treaties and contributed to the settlements in the Cam Lanteux. It didn’t come without some resistance, but Morrighan and Dalbreck provided escorts to contingents of Vendan settlers. The first crops had been planted, and hope was blooming. The fruit of the work kept me going.
I couldn’t have done any of it without Kaden. He worked tirelessly. All the compassion and tenderness he had gotten from his mother was finally able to shine, but the scars inside him were still there, just like the ones on his back. I saw it when he held Rhys, protective, his reflexes quick, as if no hand would ever scar the skin or soul of this child. I hoped he was right.
I knocked on the door of his meeting chamber, and when there was no answer, I went inside. All traces of the Komizar were gone—except for the table with the gash in it that had marked the Komizar’s rise to power. Kaden’s desk was piled as high with papers as mine was. I added more to his pile—a proposed trade agreement with Eislandia.
To help the settlements, we had refitted the Komizar’s army city for other purposes. The smelteries, the forges, and the cooperages were now busy supplying tools for farming and trade. The testing fields—those we had left to the seasons to erase—the scars and rubble of destruction slowly being swallowed up by wind, rain, grass, and time.
The giant golden brezalots that had survived were freed. Now they grazed in herds on distant hilltops, and I saw them in a new way, as the beautiful and majestic creatures they were meant to be. If I ventured too close, if I saw the steam of their hot breaths or heard the pounding of their great hooves, terror would still flash through me, along with the memory of mangled bodies and the smell of burning flesh. Some scars took longer to heal than others, and some scars, I knew, were necessary. Some things you should never forget.
“Looking for me?”
I turned. Kaden stood in the doorway with Rhys on his hip.
“That baby’s almost a year old,” I said. “He’s never going to learn to walk if his feet never touch the ground.”
Kaden smiled. “He’ll learn soon enough.”
I told him about the additional paperwork I had left for him, and he took it in stride. He was everything I could ask for in a Keep—calm and steady, devoted. Loyal.
“Where’s Pauline?” I asked.
His eyes lit up. “Hunting down Eben and Natiya.”
I knew Pauline would prevail and find them. She was determined that everyone would learn how to read and write the language, which she herself was studying. She had begun morning lessons for them and anyone else she could wrangle. I didn’t tell Kaden I had seen them in the work yard, battling with practice swords. The competition between them was fierce, but there was a playfulness too, and when I heard them chide and laugh at each other, my heart lifted, seeing that small glimpse of the children in them return. I prayed more would come with time.
“I was just saying good-bye to Griz,” he said.
“I said my good-byes last night.”
Griz was leading another group of settlers into the Cam Lanteux. Gwyneth would ride with the caravan too, and then she would continue on to Terravin. She had been helping me here in Venda but finally had to return home—and to Simone. It didn’t matter if she had to love her daughter from a distance. That was where her heart was. She’d promised Berdi she would send news of how the tavern was faring. But with all the caravans that had departed, it wasn’t lost on me that she left with the one led by the big ugly brute, as she still called him. Her wicked banter had frustrated Griz these past months, but he always seemed to come back for more, and I knew Gwyneth loved watching him struggle to maintain a scowl when a smile lurked in his eyes. They were a strange pair, but I wouldn’t be surprised if Griz took a side trip to Terravin.
“Jia!” Rhys squealed and reached out. His swift little fingers yanked a strand of hair from my cap, and he beamed, delighted with his prize. Kaden gently pried his fingers free.
A dawning rushed over me, and I smiled. “Look at us, Kaden. You, me, here in Venda, and you with a baby on your hip.”
He grinned. “Yes, I know. It occurred to me.”
“Strange how we can glimpse our future, but can never know all of it,” I said. “I suppose greater stories will have their way.”
His grin faded. “Are you all right?”
He caught me now and then. Looking into the distance, wondering, my thoughts thousands of miles from here. Remembering.
“I’m fine,” I answered. “Just headed to Sanctum Hall. I haven’t eaten yet.”
“I’ll be down in a bit,” he said.
I passed the Royal Scholar in the hall. He’d just come from the caverns. Argyris and the other scholars had been returned to Morrighan to face trial—and a rope. No books were burned in the kitchen ovens anymore, no matter how great or small their importance seemed to be.
“I’m working on that translation you wanted,” he said. “It appears to be a book of poetry.” I had given him the small ancient book that Aster had proudly stolen for me from the piles in the cavern. “The first poem is something about hope and feathers. I’ll bring it to you later.”
I smiled. A poem with wings?
How fitting that Aster had taken that one. I still imagined her every day, no longer as the forlorn angel with clipped wings, but as I had seen her when I walked that thin line between life and death. Aster, free and twirling in a meadow with long flowing hair.
Sanctum Hall, like everything in Venda, had changed too. Berdi had seen to that. It no longer stank of spilled ale, and now fresh rushes brightened the floor. The much-abused table still bore the marks of its past, but at least now it gleamed with a daily scrubbing and polish.
I crossed the room to a sideboard and fixed a plate from a buffet of hot parritch, boiled eggs, flatbreads, and fish caught from the river. At the end of the sideboard there was a plattter of bones. My fingers sifted through it, thinking of all the sacrifice.
Meunter ijotande. Never forgotten.
I slipped another bone onto my tether.
I ate alone at the table, looking at its length, the empty chairs, listening to the rare quiet, feeling full in ways I’d never thought possible. But in other ways … some things had taken hold of me that I couldn’t quite shake. Things like Terravin—a new beginning that had led to so much more.
I took my dishes to the sideboard and grabbed a rag, squeezing it out in the soapy water. A servant walked in, but I turned her away. “I’ll do it,” I told her, and she left.
I wiped the crumbs I had left on the table, but then continued to scrub, working my way to the other end.
Pauline walked in, her arms full of books, and dropped them on the table. “What are you doing?” she asked.
“Just cleaning up a bit.”
She grinned. “You look more like a kitchen helper than a busy ruler.”
“There’s little difference,” I said, and dropped the rag back in the soap pan. I surveyed the floor and reached for the broom propped against the wall.
“The floor doesn’t need sweeping,” she said.
“The queen says it does.”
Her lips pursed in mocking offense. “Then I guess you must sweep.”
She left, I assumed to get another load of books.
The sweet scent of Berdi’s stew hung in the air. There were still few luxuries in Venda, but her bottomless pots of stew were one, and as I swept, I saw a jeweled bay, heard the cry of gulls, remembered a gentle knock on my cottage door and a garland of flowers placed in my hands.
A happy squeal broke the silence, and I looked up to see Kaden and Pauline at t
he entrance to the hall quietly conferring. He handed Rhys to her, but they remained a tight knot, his lips brushing hers with ease. They grew closer every day. Yes, I thought, there are a hundred ways to fall in love.
I walked over and replaced the broom in its spot near the sideboard. I had no more time for daydreaming. Piles of paper waited for me and I—
“Lia?” Kaden called.
I turned. He and Pauline walked closer. “Yes?”
“There’s another emissary here to see you.”
I rolled my eyes. I was weary of the endless meetings with the Lesser Kingdoms. It seemed nothing was ever settled once and for all. There were always more assurances I had to offer them. “He or she can wait until—”
“It’s an emissary from the king of Dalbreck,” Pauline said.
When I didn’t budge, Kaden added a reminder. “Dalbreck has been very generous with their supplies.”
I grunted and conceded. “Show him in.”
Kaden looked over my drab attire. “Aren’t you going to change into something more … presentable?”
I looked down at my work dress, then shot him a disapproving stare, saying more firmly, “Show him in.”
Pauline began to protest too, but I stopped her.
“If this is good enough for the people of Venda, it’s good enough for an emissary.”
They both frowned.
I pulled my cap from my head and brushed my hair with my fingers. “There! That better?”
They both sighed and left. Minutes later, they returned, Pauline rushing in ahead, standing stiffly near the hearth. Kaden stood at the end of the hall, mostly cast in shadows. I could hear the shuffling of a contingent somewhere behind him. Kaden stepped forward and announced, “The emissary of Dalbreck, here to speak with the queen of Venda.”
I waved my fingers forward impatiently, and Kaden stepped aside.
The emissary stepped forward.
I blinked.
I swallowed.
He walked across the hall toward me. The only sound was his heavy boots tapping on the stone.
He stopped in front of me, his eyes looking into mine, and then slowly, he dropped to one knee. “Your Majesty.”
I couldn’t find my voice. My tongue was sand and my throat like a stiff dried bone. Somehow I made my fingertips move, and I motioned for him to stand.
He rose to his feet, and I swallowed again, finally conjuring some moisture to my tongue. I surveyed his rumpled clothes, dusty from a long journey. “You look more like a farmer than a grand emissary of Dalbreck,” I said.
His eyes gleamed. “And you look more like a tavern maid than the queen of Venda.”
He stepped closer.
“And what brings you so far?” I asked.
“I brought you something.”
This time it was he who motioned with his hand.
There was more shuffling in the dark hall behind him, then Orrin and Tavish walked in with wide grins plastered across their faces. Each of them held a crate filled with melons.
“I grew them myself,” Rafe said. “Mostly.”
My mind tumbled. Melons? “You are a man of many talents, King Jaxon.”
Creases deepened around his eyes. “And you, Queen Jezelia, are a woman of surprising strengths.”
I didn’t move.
I wasn’t sure I was breathing.
He reached up and caressed my cheek.
“I know hundreds of miles separate us. I know you have your endless duties here and I have mine in Dalbreck. But we’ve done the impossible, Lia. If we can find a way to end centuries of animosity between the kingdoms … surely … we can find a way for us.”
He bent over, and his lips met mine, gentle, tender, and I trembled against their touch. I tasted the wind, sweet melons, a thousand dreams, and hope.
We parted and looked at each other, a better ending at our fingertips.
A way for us.
Impossible.
But that hadn’t stopped us before.
And I reached up and brought his mouth back to mine.
THE END
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
The journey’s end.
What began as a loose idea about the things that last bloomed into a world I never could have imagined with my first step. It became a journey as far-reaching as the Cam Lanteux, and so many have gone down this crazy road with me. Just as Lia had an army behind her, so did I, and without them, these books wouldn’t exist. I am indebted.
Let me begin with the unstoppable force that is my publisher, Macmillan/Henry Holt. You are, simply put, brilliant and infinitely creative. Thank you to Jean Feiwel, Laura Godwin, Elizabeth Fithian, Angus Killick, Jon Yaged, Brielle Benton, Morgan Dubin, Allison Verost, Caitlin Sweeney, Kallam McKay, Claire Taylor, Kathryn Little, Mariel Dawson, Emily Petrick, Lucy Del Priore, Katie Halata, Jennifer Healey, John Nora, Ana Deboo, Rachel Murray, and the army of you who work behind the scenes. Thank you for believing in this series and getting it into readers’ hands.
Let’s just say it right here and now. Rich Deas is a cover god. I may have stopped breathing when I saw this last book cover. And the inside is just as beautiful. Anna Booth did absolutely wondrous things with the design, making me want to hug every page. I am stunned with gratitude to both of them.
My editor, Kate Farrell, as always provided sharp-eyed insights, questions that made me think, unflagging support, and friendship. Over the course of these three books plus a novella, we have wrestled, brainstormed, conspired, laughed, and created together. She is one in a million. I am, and will always be, so very grateful to her.
I am incredibly thankful to the librarians, booksellers, tweeters, booktubers, bloggers, and every reader who spread the word to one or many. I loved hearing your thoughts, theories, and hopes for these characters. Your awesome enthusiasm fueled me. (Yes, Stacee, I know. More kissing.) I truly felt we were on this journey together.
Thank you to Deb Shapiro, Peter Ryan, and the Stimola Literary Studio team for your creativity and keeping all that extra “author stuff” on a straight course.
From the very first page of the Remnant Chronicles we see a world where story sustains its inhabitants, and so I salute my fellow writers. It is not true there is no new story under the sun. You prove there is every day, with the new worlds and the new perspectives you create. Thank you for taking me on your journeys too. Story, like a hungry dragon, is one of those things that lasts, and maybe all that protects us from being eaten.
Special thanks to YA writers Marlene Perez, Melissa Wyatt, Alyson Noël, Marie Rutkoski, Robin LaFevers, and Jodi Meadows for support and advice. From manuscript critiques to virtual hugs and cookies, craft chats, cheerleading, and commiserations about the trials of writing a trilogy, you gave me much needed perspective. Many thanks to Stephanie Bodeen for fantasizing about goat cheese and other foods with me and challenging me to include an unlikely food—bacon-wrapped wienies—in the midst of a medieval world. The outpost foodie, Colonel Bodeen, was happy to oblige. Thank you to Jessica Butler and Karen Beiswenger for on-the-spot brainstorming, beta reads, and your wild musings about the Remnant world. You kept my brain spinning. I also want to thank Jill Rubalcaba, who offered advice on my first book and many thereafter. Her words of long ago when I was beginning the Jenna Fox book—you can do this—became my daily mantra to chase away doubt and push me to the finish line.
My family is the best, always my foundation: Karen, Ben, Jess, Dan, Ava, Emily, and sweet baby Leah, you’re the balance, the smiles, the true joys of my life.
My husband, Dennis, was nothing short of heroic in helping me finish this last book. He was truly a warrior who shielded me, carried me, fed me, massaged my shoulders, encouraged me, and protected me from falling into an exhausted coma. I could not love him more.
Finally, I lift a glass (a fine Morrighese vintage) to Rosemary Stimola, who has been my agent and friend for fifteen years. She is my Gandalf, my Yoda, my Dihara, a woman of uncommon strengths and wisdom. Without her,
there would be no Remnant Chronicles. Thank you, Rosemary. You’re the real deal.
To all, paviamma.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Mary E. Pearson is the author of many novels for teens, including The Kiss of Deception, The Heart of Betrayal, and the acclaimed Jenna Fox Chronicles. She writes full-time from her home in Carlsbad, California.
marypearson.com
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CONTENTS
Title Page
Copyright Notice
Dedication
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35