My breath becomes deeper and less laboured as I fall into a rhythm, muscles no longer screaming though still protesting against the hauling weight. I pause, wiping the sweat from my brow. I can hear my heartbeat and the blood pumping in my veins, but everything else is silent. There is absolutely nothing here. Barely any life in the waters; or if there is, it is so small that it is undetectable. No sky, no vegetation. Only the distant life on the isles either side of the tunnel walls.
When I arrive at the Bastion, the dock is an unassuming stone platform and a door in the recess of the wall. Sconces light my way and cast the Seaguardians’ shadows as large and misshapen. I’m secretly relieved to find anything here at all after countless hours rowing through the gloaming. At first, I revelled in the quiet. The absence of the voices of the dead, and the peace of being alone. Eventually, the silence became suffocating. I never thought I’d need that familiar soundscape. I kept looking for it, like a part of myself I’d misplaced.
I’m drenched with sweat and queasy from the motion of the sea. The guards help me dock and we make our way through darkened passages, our footsteps ricocheting around the tunnels. It’s a labyrinth down here, with barely lit passages and winding switchbacks. Eventually the guards stop, and I nearly bash into the tall, imposing woman leading our procession.
She indicates a small, wooden door, concealed behind a tapestry. It’s the softest thing my fingers have ever felt. The walls here are thick stone and warm from the sunshine that filters through the large, clear windows. Now that we’re inside the fortress, light hits the tapestry, which depicts the wedding day of the queen and our late king. I gasp and the sound echoes around the room.
‘This way.’
The dazzling white of the Seaguardians’ uniforms are clearer in the light. The tall, imposing woman continues to lead the way. As we make our way into the inner parts of the building, the air becomes warmer and the furnishings more luxurious. This must be the inner sanctum where the royals reside. It’s difficult to tear my eyes away from the finery. I didn’t know such colours existed in the world, and my fingers twitch to caress every material I see. I surreptitiously trace the edge of a lacquered wooden end table, and the imposing Seaguardian catches my eye. I snatch my hand back, but I think I catch the trace of a smile as she turns away.
As we pass by open doors into rooms, I see nobles dressed in finery. They eat and chat and drink with abandon. It feels as though everyone is shouting to be heard, and I don’t understand how they can think and talk and listen all at the same time. Living at the Temple of Aistra has taught me that the walls hear everything. Our voices were barely raised above a low murmur at the temple.
The queen sits on her throne in the great hall. I cast my eyes down; flicking looks at my surroundings when I dare. The stained glass of the round window throws dappled light on a man knelt before her in supplication.
‘The problems continue, Your Highness. The harvest—’
‘Have you discovered the cause?’ the queen asks.
Her voice is rich honey. I steal a glance at her. She’s younger than I expected, with dark waves of hair pinned back from her face and adorned with flowers, jewels, perhaps even feathers. I can’t quite tell from here, but they glint in the light. She looks like something holy. She is the sun. She is more than anything I’ve seen before.
The farmer wrings the cap in his hands. ‘Not yet, Your Highness. No one understands why—’
She sighs, her mouth turning down a fraction. ‘Collect rainwater. Send your boats to the other isles for resources. Protect what’s left of the harvest.’
‘With respect, Your Highness, there is not enough to continue our... contributions... and feed ourselves.’
The queen lets his words hang in the air, letting him stew in the silence. I venture a look. She places an elegant hand under her chin and stares off in the distance, her gaze detached from the scene in front of her. ‘Then you must make do.’
The farmer opens his mouth to speak again but closes it after a fleeting glance at the queen. He bows his head, and I follow his lead.
The imposing Seaguardian steps forward and grabs the farmer’s arm. ‘Your concerns have been heard, and your contribution is appreciated.’
The farmer’s shoulders sag and he allows the Seaguardian to lead him out of the throne room. The leader kneels and forces me to do the same. I drop my gaze to the floor, trying to sink into it.
‘What have you brought me, Salvacion?’
‘The new offering for priestess from the temple, Your Grace,’ Salvacion says.
‘Come here.’
Salvacion hauls me to my feet. The queen makes her way out to the balcony, and I follow. She places a hand to her belly, which I now see is swollen with child. The fabric is pulled taut against her skin to accentuate it, and she looks almost ready to deliver. The queen peers over the balcony down the steep hill. My eyes follow hers to a magnificent sun mosaic in the courtyard below us. It spirals out from a jewel in the centre, moving in a meticulous arrangement through shades of yellow, orange, and red. Further down the hill is the sprawl of Umasa port and beyond I make out the four isles, set under variousshades of relentless blue sky. Everywhere save the Winter Isle, where dark clouds and fog hang over the Temple of Aistra.
‘Everyone is waiting for the birth of this child,’ the queen says after some time.
‘Blessed be the day,’ I murmur, unsure what else to say.
‘This is the future,’ the queen says, cradling her stomach. ‘You must protect it at all costs, do you understand?’
‘Of course, Your Grace. I am at your disposal.’
‘Indeed,’ she says, examining me liberally. Her eyes rover over my entire body from temple to toe and I feel naked despite the layers of robes between my skin and her gaze. ‘The Temple Mothers trust in your healing hands. We’d hate to disappoint them.’
I nod. I realise I’m holding my breath, not daring to make a sound in front of the queen.
‘You will be my sword and the heir’s shield,’ she says, and I see her turn away in my periphery. ‘A shadow waiting to destroy our enemies.’
‘I will serve the Bastion with my life,’ I say, bowing.
