“Yes. It seems that version diverged from the widely accepted legend just before the Conquest. I’m not sure why. But this book contains a version of it.”
He flipped toward the middle. The full-page illustration featured a magnificent sunburst, extravagantly gilded and painted with kembric leaf so it shone like hope. A glittering Meridian floated in an azure sky beneath it, nearly as bright. And on the ground below him were four smaller figures, each holding an object.
“In this story, Meridian doesn’t disappear into Dominion,” explained Dowser. “He rules as the Sun Heir for many tides before finally growing disillusioned with power. He abdicates his throne, but is unable to choose a new heir from among his four children. Instead, he bestows upon each of them an object: the dristic blade, forged in the heart of the Sun, he gives to his strong-armed daughter Aliette; the crown of kembric, woven from the net he used to capture the Moon, he gives to his crafty son Bastien; the locket of ambric, stained with the Moon’s heartblood, he gives to his compassionate son Raphaël; and—” Dowser shook his head. “It’s written in an archaic dialect and I’m afraid I’m not translating this bit correctly. It says he gives hissoulto his ambitious daughter Liliane, who dreamed always of the stars.”
“His soul?” My heart thrummed against my pendant—locket?“What happened then? Did they all kill each other for the Relics the moment Meridian left them alone?”
My question seemed to trouble Dowser, and I had to confess it took me aback as well. But I almost felt like some midnight scrap of me already knew this story
“In a way. It’s a children’s book, so there’s no killing—as offspring of the Scion they were supposedly immortal. But they competed against each other in something called theOrdeals of the Sun Heir. In the end, the heir who won the most Relics won them all, and went on to rule the kingdom.”
“Who was it?”
“Your ancestor a thousand generations over—Sébastien Sabourin, progenitor of your royal line and fabled son of Meridian himself.”
I wrapped a hand around my pendant and closed my eyes. The Sisters of the Scion stuck closely to the teachings of their scripture and denounced all fairy tales as dangerous nonsense—so why this eerie familiarity?
“So we have an idea ofwhatwe’re looking for, at least,” I said. “That’s good. Now we just need to know where these four Relics are hidden.”
“I wonder whether—”
Sunder burst into the antechamber, interrupting Dowser mid-sentence. He stalked close, eyes glittering with triumph.
“The Loup-Garou raided a Red Mask cabal in the Paper City. None of the dissidents were captured, but my wolves confiscated stacks of a pamphlet they meant to distribute.”
Fear and anticipation tangled in my chest. “May I see?”
Sunder handed me a slim volume, printed in livid ink on cheap paper. “It’s something of a manifesto.”
I flipped through it, my throat tightening as my eyes skimmed crude etchings of bloody swords and beaming suns; Meridian’s flaming chariot plummeting through a black night. Words jumped out at me, half-familiar and smudged with tallow and dusk:the light of the Scion … with glory thy glave … crowns the Sun Heir.
I dropped the pamphlet like it burned my fingers.
“Tell me the gist.” I gritted my teeth.
“The Red Mask leader preaches a new era of peace, light, and piety in the Amber Empire.”
Dowser took off his spectacles and polished them on the front of his robe. “What’s the catch?”
“This utopia must be ushered in by a true Sun Heir, who will rid the empire of the darkness in its heart with the flaming light of the Scion’s molten sword.”
“Let me guess,” I spat. “I’m the darkness in the empire’s heart—the Duskland Dauphine.”
“I imagine that’s one interpretation.”
This couldn’t be happening. From the moment I’d known enough about the world to see my place in it, I’d fought against the teachings of the zealots who’d raised me. They had believed in the Scion with an unflinching devotion that had always felt like an affront to me—the child standing before them begging to be loved. And so I’d derided their teachings, seeking out every flaw in their ideology, every chink in their beliefs, every hole in their philosophy. Because if they couldn’t be bothered to love me, then maybe I could at least earn their hate.
I’d traveled half the daylight world to escape that doctrine. I’d run away from the dusk toward the light at the heart of an empire. And yet I’d found more fanaticism. And the hate I’d always thought I wanted.
“And this Red Mask leader? Who is he?”
“No one knows. Those who have heard him preach say he wears a red mask—the inspiration for all the others. His followers might know what he looks like, but they have proven incredibly tight-lipped.”
“Why don’t we destroy all the pamphlets?” I asked. “Send the Loup-Garou through the Paper City, gather the books, publicly denounce his hateful ideas—”
“You can burn paper, but you can’t destroy ideas,” Dowser said. “You’d just make a martyr of his philosophy.”
“He’s right,” Sunder said. I already knew it was true. “His ideas, though radical, are finding purchase among Ambers whose lives have been upturned these past spans. His philosophy offers a scapegoat for their uncertainty and a bright promise of hope to chase away their despair.”
