With a flick of my crop, I force Silvermist to a gallop, steering him towards the palace. There’s not a second to lose. The Flarestone must be shrouded, Leilani’s reckless scheme brought to a stop. She would bring enemies to our borders.
I dismount, pound on the palace door.
‘Fetch the King,’ I say to the guard. His hair is mussed, and I make a mental note to report him for sleeping on the job, as he hurries to obey my order.
I don’t wait long. Hyperion soon descends the central staircase, crosses towards me. Confusion creasing his brow.
‘The Flarestone. She’s ignited the Sister-blooded Flarestone.’
Hyperion’s expression is blank as untrod snow. I wait for anger, for indignation to etch itself upon his face. But, aside from a slight feathering of his jaw, nothing. Surely, he didn’t know? Didn’t order this himself?
‘Where?’ The word rips bitter and urgent from his lips, as he turns to the guard. ‘Where is she?’
*
THEBINDERY.
Hardly a surprise. The King’s always kept Leilani on a tight rein, and never more so than since her failed escape bid. The Bindery is one of the few places she’s permitted to go.
‘Leave her to me,’ Hyperion says grimly as he forces open the doors to the great library. I nod, trailing behind his ground-gobbling strides, keeping to the shadows. A stab of guilt snakes cold in my gut. I wouldn’t want to be on the receiving end of his wrath. I strangle the feeling.
Leilani brought this on herself.
It takes a moment for my eyes to adjust to the dimness. Bruised fingers of dawnlight probe the windows, reflecting rainbows off the starcrystal bookcases, casting long shadows over the scrolling balustrades, illuminating the never-ending shelves of leatherbound volumes. The must of old parchments weights the air. Heady, oppressive. I want to fling open the jewelled-glass windows. It was the same at the Asteum. I respect books, the knowledge they contain, but they make me uncomfortable. Perhaps it’s the seed of doubt, the splinter of unease, places like this instil in me. The whispers I can’t quiet that say I don’t belong here.
The light trip of footsteps echoes somewhere above us. I lift my gaze to the spiral staircase that connects all three floors of the Bindery.
Leilani is descending the stairs.
‘Father,’ she says, facing us from the opposite end of the booklined corridor. She doesn’t acknowledge me. She’s pale but her voice is surprisingly steady. Impressively so.
‘What have you done?’ Hyperion snarls.
She lifts her chin. ‘What I had to.’
‘I forbade it.’
Leilani clenches her fist. ‘You may have given up on Mother, accepted what the healers say, but I never will. I’m going to save her.’ Her eyes are glittering, she’s drawn herself tall. She looks… queenly. ‘The Outrealmers should arrive with the next full moons. If I can persuade them to—’
Hyperion strikes fast as a viper, grips Leilani hard by the shoulders. Shakes her. Without thinking, I step from the shadows to intervene. Hyperion turns, a challenge burning in his eyes. I look between them. Torn. Leilani’s arms hang rigid at her sides. But there’s no shock on her face. Only the tight-pressed lips of resignation. This is not the first time her father has laid hands on her.
The knowledge weighs heavy as an anvil inside me. I’ve not seen this side of Hyperion before; it makes for an ugly picture, like glimpsing the wasted face of a fever corpse when their serene death-mask slips. I understood Leilani was disobedient, that discipline had been a necessary constant in her life. But I never thought that discipline might extend to this… My father had little time to teach me anything before he died, but one of his earliest lessons was never to lay hands on a woman in anger. I remember Leilani’s childhood screams. Had it started even then? Is this what plagued her girlish dreams? But then I remember too, the limp hang of the Queen’s birdlike body in my arms, the gaping wound an absent father has left in my life. All the stinking pyres. All the other fathers torn away too soon.
Leilani is not like other women. She holds dread power, the threat of Shadow within her. She could destroy us all… And she’s a traitor. She’s summoned enemies to our borders. Placed Estelia at the mercy of the Outrealmers. Perhaps Hyperion’s show of force is necessary.
I step back. It’s not my place to question the King.
Hyperion releases his grip on Leilani’s shoulders. Folds his arms. ‘I’ve sent guards to shroud the Flarestone. If any Outrealmers are foolish enough to come to the Barrier, they’ll be denied entry. I meant what I said. Cross me again and, heir or no, I’ll send you to the Veiled Sisters.’
Leilani’s breath hitches but she squares her shoulders. Defiant even now.
‘Think carefully before you do that, Father,’ she says, advancing towards him.
I step closer to Hyperion. This is instinctual too, the desire to lend support to his elbow. She pauses, eyes raking over me, making no effort to hide her disgust. She still has the ability to make me feel small in her presence.
‘Think carefully unless you want the entire court to know how tenuous a grip you keep on the Throne.’ She raises herself on tiptoe, whispers something I can’t catch in her father’s ear.
He pales. ‘How can you possibly know—’ His eyes flit to her brand. ‘Sorceress,’ he whispers.
