Blayze smirks, the muscles in his neck jutting proud as tree roots. ‘I change my mind, Sparkles. Listen to your betrothed. Run along and let the big boys settle this. Shouldn’t take more than a minute to have this preening peacock flat on his back, pissing himself like a baby.’
I square my shoulders and speak in the loudest voice I can muster. ‘I will not. We have important business to discuss here.’ I turn to Astrophel again. ‘You think yourself better than him? Act like it, then. Remember why we’re here – who’s depending on us.’
Astrophel’s shoulders slump, but his gaze remains whetted. After a long pause, he sheathes his sword.
I hear the low rumble of Blayze’s laugh. He elbows his brother in the ribs. ‘Clearly not a love match, eh?’
Kyden mimes a whipping motion.
‘For the Queen,’ Astrophel says, ignoring them, but fixing me with a cold, hard stare. ‘But I’ve a long memory, Leilani, and I shan’t forget this. I’ll make sure your father doesn’t, either.’
I don’t doubt for a second he means to keep that oath, but I’m willing to risk his future vengeance if it means the council meeting can proceed.
One down. One to go.
I turn to Blayze. ‘I’m not the King, but I am the one who ignited the Flarestone. Will you do me the courtesy of listening to what I have to say?’
His mouth twitches.
‘All right, Sparkles. Consider me suitably intrigued. Lead the way.’ He holsters his axe. ‘Any chance of wine – perhaps something stronger? It’s damned cold.’
You might try wearing a shirt, you insufferable brute.‘I’m sure that can be arranged.’ I smile.
Blayze pushes past me, the swirl of his blood-red cloak leading the way into the Rotunda. The icy breeze stirred in his wake is spiced with a smoke-sharp scent.
I try to read his aura. My vision blurs, but no colours bleed into the air. I try again with his brother. My mind unhinges, expands, begins to slip away in the usual way, but my second-sight can’t anchor itself.
It’s just as Orthriel said, the Arcuri brothers are impossible to read. Their minds a wall. A star-damned irritating wall I’d like to take a hammer to, if only I didn’t need them. If only my mother’s life, and the lives of every one of my people, didn’t rely on their goodwill.
Not being able to read them is a blow, one more hurdle I’ll have to jump. But I’ve already cleared the highest one.
They came. They answered my call.
JUDGEMENT OF THE BELLS
LEILANI
SILENCEWEIGHTSTHERotunda again, magnifying the rustle of parchment as I fold Noelani’s letter and carefully store the pages away. All eyes rest on me. Whatever the other delegates were expecting to hear, it wasn’t this.
My gaze drifts to the silver bells mounted above the Outrealmers’ heads. My fate – the fate of every Estelian – lies with those little bells.
Blayze finally speaks, his glower sharp like the tip of a knife, piercing my body. ‘Where’s your proof?’
He and his brother affect disinterest: sprawled across their bench, legs splayed, heads pillowed in their arms. But I saw their eyes flare while I read the letter, saw Blayze slip a piece of something resembling tree bark into his mouth. He’s been champing on it ever since.
‘How do we know that letter’s genuine?’ he thunders again, large hands clenching into fists. ‘Are we to believe you’re the one fated to retrieve the lost sceptre, when so many warriors have tried and failed?’
He looks me up and down, appraising me like chattel, finding me wanting.
The feeling is mutual.
‘What’s to say this isn’t a ruse? That you don’t plan to use us to help find the sceptre, then wield its power over our heads? Reignite the Plunderings – rob us of what little we have left. We’ve no reason to trust the Star-Led.’
Astrophel and I exchange a brief look, acknowledging the splinter of truth behind these words. We are deceiving them… being less than honest, anyway. I withheld the lore of the Sister-Stones at my father’s insistence, neglected to mention the true difficulties involved in scaling the Astral Mountain. In fact, I didn’t disclose the Starlight Staff’s location at all. Only said we’d travel north with the tincture to aid us. A pang of guilt slices my gut, but Blayze’s words only reinforce the need for secrecy. The Outrealmers can’t know I plan to use the lost sceptre for my own ends, lead them up a mountain where temperatures are unendurable, the air unbreathable. They’d never agree to come.
But guilt’s not the only reason my gut twists. Blayze’s words harp at a fear I’ve kept hidden since Orthriel gave me Noelani’s letter. How much do I really know about my ancestor? Am I willing to risk my life, the lives of others, on the say-so of a stranger – and a tainted one at that?
I push my doubts aside and stride from the podium towards the Arcuri brothers. I stand tall, refusing to let their flashing eyes intimidate me. Serafine settles on Blayze’s shoulder, and Astrophel and Orthriel edge closer – bracketing me like bookends. At this close distance, I can see the pearly trails of old scars creeping up Blayze’s neck and shoulders, where bare skin meets cloak.
