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  “There is nothing to say it did not. And you, my child, with your direct connection to the Gods… they who have gifted you so… they would not leave your lover. They will look after his soul.”

  I can only hope that she is right. Her words take me back to my dream, to Avery and the blinding desert, and the way she laid her hand on my belly. I take another sip of tea.

  “There is something on your mind,” Esther says, cocking her head to an angle. “Something different. You hold back a secret. Do you care to talk about it?”

  I avoid her searching eyes, so sharp they could belong to a hunter. My forefinger taps the side of the cup.

  “I am with child,” I say eventually.

  Esther leans back and folds her arms. “I didn’t expect…” And then in a rare display of emotion she lets out a sob, before leaning forward to grasp my forearm. “This is joyous, but my heart aches for you, too. How can one so young be a widow and a mother? The world is cruel, my dear, dear, Hada-Ya.”

  I put down my cup and fold into her arms. “I’m not ready to be a mother,” I say as we weep together.

  *

  Sasha is the first to leap on me the second I leave Esther’s home. Her warm embrace almost starts another flood of tears, but a chin wobble, and a clear of the throat seems to do the trick.

  “I… we’ve missed you,” she says.

  “I’ve missed you too. I’m sorry I haven’t seen you. I…” I trail off and find myself staring down at my boots.

  “No explanation necessary,” she replies with a warm smile. In that smile I see that there is never an explanation needed between two good friends. She spots my second chin-wobble and punches me lightly on the shoulder. “Come now, craft-born. That’s quite enough of that.” But at the same time she wipes away a single tear.

  “Hada-Ya.” The sound of Mushtan’s deep voice is a welcome one. Finally now, after ridding the fog of Cas’s death from my eyes, I can rejoice that he never betrayed me. I can be proud to count him among my friends. He clasps my forearm with his hand. “It is good to have you back. There is much to say, and much to do.”

  Behind him, I can’t help but notice some of the men who had been fighting in that awful chaotic scene at the temple. My hand automatically reaches up to my chest, where the Ember Stone stays tucked under my shirt. Its weight—and its power—is a constant reminder of my burdens. I have to ignore the pull of its power, something I both enjoy and resent. A part of me is glad for the conflict in my mind. It stops even more painful memories creeping in.

  “Yer Majesty.” Treowe bows respectfully.

  “You can cut that out right now,” I snap. “I am not a ‘Majesty’.”

  Treowe’s face reddens. “But, you’re the rightful queen now. Well, yer will be once the king has been defeated.”

  I turn from Treowe to Mushtan, and then to Sasha. The latter lets out a sigh. “There’s a lot of politics to talk about, Mae. Cas’s death, and Lyndon’s death, means that the throne in Cyne is at a precarious moment. You’re going to have to claim the throne alone, I’m afraid.”

  “The people will never accept me,” I blurt out. “They did not witness the wedding, and we were only married a matter of days—”

  “But yer not just a princess,” Treowe says. “You’re also the craft-born. That carries a lot of weight in the north. If you then defeat the king, the throne is yours for the taking. You’ll have to be careful about the General and the Duke. With Casimir gone, they may either change allegiance or fight against you.”

  My head swims with all this new information. I’ve only just managed to interact with people, let alone take in all these political plots. I stare down at my disabled arm, at the metal replacement of my hand.

  “The people will never accept me,” I mumble.

  The gifts the Gods have given you.

  I am carrying Casimir’s child. His blood flows through me. Perhaps they are right. Perhaps there is a chance that I can take the throne. The thought fills me with dread, but what is the alternative? Without Casimir there are only power hungry generals and immoral sultans with a chance of taking the throne from the king.

  Sasha meets my eyes with an unspoken question on her lips.

  I simply nod and say, “Fine, tell me what I need to do to take Cyne.”

  Chapter Thirty – The Memories in Flame

  After seemingly hours of sitting and talking, and talking and arguing, and sighing, and talking again, we still don’t have a plan. According to Esther’s contacts, the king has disappeared. He had been seen riding down to Jakani with his army. But once Lyndon split off to follow us into the Anadi Sands, the king’s army was given over to his highest ranking official, leaving the king to disappear without a trace.

  “Destroy the army and you destroy him,” Mushtan says. “The army camp is east of Jakani.” He spits on the floor and fixes Esther with a wide-eyed stare. “They lie in wait for us. When we go back to Jakani, they will attack. We should sneak into their camp and save them the trouble.”

  “We should go to Cyne,” I argue. “Claim the throne while the king is absent. It might stop the bloodshed.”

  “It prolongs the war, Hada-Ya. The king and his army will march right back up to Cyne, where you will then have to fight him in his own land where he is stronger. Besides, once we begin our journey to Cyne, his spies will inform him, and then it will be a race to the throne. One you might not win.”

  “We have to find the king and fight him,” Esther says. “It’s the only way.”

  “We have no way to know where he has gone,” Sasha points out. “We know nothing about him, or where he would even think to go.”

  “That’s not true.” I shake my head. “We do know things about the king. We know he’s a murderer, that he’s ruthless, and that he doesn’t love anyone. But most of all, we know he is afraid, and that he leans on other people to do the work for him. He relied on Beardsley for many years. He tried to use my magic to create black diamonds. He can’t do things for himself, and now he is alone. Both his sons are dead.” My voice cracks, but I clear my throat and stay strong. “His engineer is dead. Even his wife is dead. Who else can he lean on? Who is left?”

  There’s a silence around the table. Mushtan taps a fingernail on the wood and stares into the distance. Esther folds her arms across her chest and tilts her head to the side. Sasha opens her mouth as though to speak, but then shakes her head and closes it again.

  “The sultan.”

  I twist in my seat at the sound of the voice by the door of Esther’s house. I hadn’t even heard the door; we’d been concentrating so intently. Treowe stands there with his hands pushed into his pockets.

  “Who are you?” Esther speaks in a low, powerful voice. “This is a private meeting.”

  Treowe’s eyes trail down to his feet in shame.

  “No, it’s all right,” I say. “He should be part of the meeting. Treowe was close to Cas. The two of them fought side by side. He was the first to come to our side from Cyne, and he worked as hard as anyone back in the Borgan camp. Come and take a seat, Treowe.” I smile at him, trying to coax him into the room.”

  The blacksmith’s apprentice hurries into the room and closes the door. He takes a seat between Sasha and Esther, meeting no one else’s eyes except mine. His face flushes red and he rubs the back of his head awkwardly.

  “Go on,” I say. “Tell us your thoughts.”

  “Well, I ain’t much more than a stable lad and a blacksmith,” he begins. “But what Mae here said is right. I’ve worked in the Royal stables for more than a year and the king never did anything for himself. He had a lad for everything, for cleaning his boots and fetching his horse—”

  “Most kings do,” Esther says with a scoff.

  “But it’s more than that. It’s like Mae says, he doesn’t know his arse from his elbow.” Treowe’s cheeks flush even brighter, and there are a few chuckles at the colourful language. “The man is an idiot. All
he does is drink, eat, and bully people. When it comes to politics and anything like that, well, I think it was Lyndon mostly. Being around the stables meant I sometimes went with ‘em on hunts, and that’s when the king talked about the court with Lyndon. Casimir never went. The king didn’t trust Casimir. Lyndon used to talk about ways to bring people down. Nasty one, he was. It was all torture and death with him, but it was also him who said to come south to the mines. And it was him who used to try and talk the king out of war with Jakani. He reckoned the king should keep the sultan onside in case he needed to borrow more money.”

  It made sense. Cyne is the poorest it has been in decades since the last craft-born died. The king used all his money to develop engines to power the machines in his palace, which polluted the crops. A poor country with a poor king means that the king has to go elsewhere to fund his mission for everlasting tyranny.

  “So with everyone else gone, the king might turn to the sultan,” I say, thinking through Treowe’s word.

  “That’s what I believe,” Treowe replies.

  “When we met with the sultan at your house, Mushtan, I believed then that he would ask you and your men to betray me over the Ember Stone. Was I correct?” I turn to the old man, my heart pinched with worry. My fondness for Mushtan wants desperately for him to be loyal to me.

  “That is what he asked,” Mushtan agrees with a sigh. Esther lets out a little laugh, which Mushtan ignores. “I am a friend to the Borgans, and a friend to Allerton. The sultan is my sultan, but not so much a friend. I made the decision early on that the sultan is not my sultan any more. I do not recognise him as my leader. That is you, Hada-Ya. You have proved yourself a worthy, powerful young woman, and I will work with you to defeat the evil in this world. But, yes, it is true that the sultan cares more about power than loyalty. He grants you soldiers for this war, but you have only his word. Now, the circumstances have changed. Your prince will not be king. Casimir’s General is someone you have few connections with, and it is the same with the Duke of Benoth. The sultan will go to the most powerful ally.”

  “The king,” Sasha whispers. I see that the blood has drained from her face. She is pale, and suddenly seems very small.

  I share Sasha’s dismay. We needed the strength of the sultan’s men. Cas’s contacts have not been reached for weeks. There’s no guarantee we even have an army to fight with.

  “We have to return to Jakani,” I say. “But we must do it quietly. The time for an honourable fight is over. We have no resources left. We should not rely on anyone outside this room. No, the responsibility falls squarely on our shoulders now. There’s one more thing we can do. That I can do. Assassination. I kill the king. Then I talk to the sultan and arrange an alliance. His backing, plus my marriage to Cas, and the fact I am the craft-born, should go some way to winning over the people of Aegunlund. Then I destroy the Ember Stone and form my court.”

  I speak loud and fast to quell the fear in my voice. There is much left unsaid. Who will be in my court? I’m lacking connections to high-ranking officials. Most of my acquaintances are young. I have no idea what it is like to be queen. I had never imagined doing all of this alone without Cas.

  “I can help yer, Mae,” Treowe says, as though he can hear my thoughts. That means I am not half as good at hiding my true emotions as I thought. “I understand the Red Palace. I know who works with the king and who will help yer. Plus, you have Allerton and Mushtan to help you.”

  “And me.” Sasha leans across to put her hand on mine. My protector and friend.

  “It is time,” Esther says, standing up from the table. “Tonight, we have a more pressing event to attend. Are you ready, Mae?”

  My stomach squirms as though a nest of snakes slithers through my guts. I am not ready. But I nod, and get to my feet. The mood in the room turns sombre. Cas’s loss isn’t just my loss. I keep forgetting that. And now I am going to say goodbye to him in the same place I married him a few short weeks ago. At least we had that. There are those who never have that love. My father knew my mother for only a few years, and I always thought that was tragic, but now it seems to me to be a blessing. He knew her and then he got to know a piece of her when I was born. One day I will have that, too.

  “Mae?”

  I move my gaze to see Sasha. A gentle smile plays on her lips, and she gestures me towards the door. I hadn’t realised that everyone had left the room. I cross the gap between us with a few shaky steps.

  Sasha puts her hand on my shoulder. “You think you’re not strong enough, but you are.”

  As we walk out into the night together, it’s Sasha who seems the strong one. Then, as Esther hands me a torch, the sight of the fire ignites something within me. I wrap the fingers of my remaining hand around the rough wood, and walk on towards the line of people dressed in red robes with their faces painted. Flashes of memories come back to me: meeting Cas in the Waerg Woods, dancing with him through the Nix’s visions, and, of course, walking these very steps as a young woman walking towards her future husband. But I am not that same girl now. I am a mother to be and a queen. I am a human being with great responsibility on her shoulders. I continue on to the small bonfire that the Ashers have built whilst we were discussing politics and plans, and it is with each step that I let go of a little piece of pain. I let go of grief. I accept what has been, and what I am, and what I will become.

  Pain is not something to be coveted or longed for. Suffering is not romantic or interesting. It is an open wound, raw and pulsing. Leave it, and it will become infected. Claw it open, and it will hurt. Help it heal, and you will scar, but that scar is a new part of who you are. I have many scars now. They are there, they exist, and they always will.

  The fire burns bright and orange. I stand before it, closing my eyes, letting the flames cleanse me.

  …silver eyes glowing in orange light…

  …long nights huddling for warmth…

  …laughter over childish games…

  I remember.

  Chapter Thirty-One – The Stolen Girl

  As the fire dies down in the background, a redheaded maiden comes to sit cross-legged next to me. Her sandals scrape against the hard, sandy floor. I flash her a quick smile as I pull at the weeds growing around me. It’s good to feel the smooth texture of a leaf again after so many days and nights in the heart of the desert.

  “How are you?” Sasha asks. After all the pitying glances and awkward back slaps, it should be annoying, but it isn’t. Not when it comes from my friend.

  “I am here,” I reply. It’s all I can think to say. I still exist. I continue… despite the pain.

  Sasha crosses her legs beneath her body, and rocks forward. We sit close enough to the dying fire so that it still warms us. I try to avoid her bright blue eyes by concentrating on my dirty fingernails.

  “You are here,” she repeats. “And you will remain.”

  “I let him go, Sasha,” I whisper. Saying the words releases a vice-like pressure from my chest. I’ve finally admitted it, that I let my love die for the sake of the world.

  Sasha is quiet. She responds with a gentle hand on my shoulder. There is nothing she can say to make it better, so we stay silent. Her presence is enough to soothe the ache in my heart.

  Finally, I have said it. I have admitted it. Perhaps now I can try to forgive myself.

  My hand flutters to where the Ember Stone sits beneath my tunic. The strange, dark energy pulses from it constantly, but when my emotions rise, it almost floods me with its power.

  “What is it like?” Sasha asks. “Is it evil?”

  I shake my head. “No, I wouldn’t say that. It’s very powerful, and there is a darkness to it. I think its energy comes from pain, and when my emotions surge, so does its power. But at the same time, my grief for Cas keeps it controlled. I am determined to ensure that his death happened for a reason. He sacrificed himself for a worthy cause, but only as long as we succeed in our task. If I give into the power of the E
mber Stone, I will not complete my task.”

  Sasha frowns, and I know what she is thinking. I have battled with the same doubts.

  Before she can speak, I ensure her. “I can control it.” And then I pause. I need to tell someone, but I am afraid of speaking it out loud in case I’m wrong, in case it is all some big misunderstanding. “And there is one other thing, something that keeps me wanting to fight, to stay strong. I… I have reason to believe that I am with child.” Sasha clutches my forearm in shock. “Avery came to me in a dream and told me. She said that I still have a part of Cas with me, and that I must save the world for my daughter.” My eyes fill with tears as Sasha’s hand grips me harder.

  She whispers my name, and I know she is weeping with me.

  “Are you happy?” I ask.

  “I’m happy for you. So happy,” she replies, leaning her head against my shoulder and pulling me closer. “Are you happy?”

  “I’m afraid… of what is to come, of the dangers I will face. But none of those fears compare to the fear of being a mother. I am so young, and she will never know her father. That makes me sad, knowing that. But, Sasha, I am also happy. So happy I want to sing and dance and shout it to the world. None of it makes sense.”

  “It makes perfect sense,” Sasha says, squeezing my shoulders. “You will make a great mother, as long as you stop being so surly.”

  “I’m rarely surly anymore,” I reply, adding a disgruntled tone to my voice. “I am very un-surly these days.”

  “You’re right, you’re a ray of sunshine compared to when I first met you,” Sasha says with a grin. “Now, you realise that you must eat more, for the baby. And I will make you a tonic every morning with special herbs that will help with the sickness. You must be extra careful when riding Adil, and no more one-on-one battles…”

  As I watch the orange glow fade against Sasha’s skin, and listen to her rules about the changes I must make to my lifestyle, I am grateful—so grateful—for my protector and friend. When my first real smile since Cas’s death gradually forms on my lips, there is a pressure around my waist. If I didn’t know better, I could swear it is Cas wrapping an arm around me and nuzzling into my neck. The air smells like the forest and berries and metal, and I feel light as the cool spring breeze in Halts-Walden.