‘But you knew of the Northern uprising?’
I shake my head. ‘I knew Hyperion feared fresh attacks. I’d no idea rebellion had already been attempted. No idea of my father’s involvement. Why? Did you?’
Surprise adds a bite I didn’t intend to my question. Leilani flinches. ‘Not about your father, no. But the rebellion, yes. Though only recently. I-I had a vision.’ She looks away, down at the floor. ‘It’s how I got my father to agree to the Council of Four. I threatened to tell the court, to expose how weak a grip he keeps on the Throne.’
My lips part. So that’s how she compelled him in the Bindery.
‘I’ve learnt the hard way your father’s wrong about a lot of things,’ I mutter. ‘He betrayed me.’
A pause. ‘Betrayed. So that’s…’ She takes a sharp breath. ‘Never mind. Go on.’
I take her hand, press it to my chest. I need her to see me now. The truth of me. And how sorry I am.
‘Your father’s wrong about you too, Leilani. His schemes around the succession – that handfasting. I shouldn’t have done it. I know that now.’
Something drags me forwards. I press my forehead to hers. She doesn’t pull back.
‘Can you forgive me for all of it? Can we start again?’
She’s looking deep into my eyes, the scent of crushed violets thickening the air. Only an inch separates us; I could close that gap, show her what I can’t find the words to say. My hopes that we might start afresh, rule Estelia together, make a better job of it than her father has done. But I don’t want to push this – her – too fast.
‘You should go back to bed,’ I say instead, taking a step back. ‘You need rest. We both do.’
Her eyes dart to the cave entrance. ‘I tried. Sleep doesn’t come easily to me. It never has…’
In that moment, she looks so lost. I want to hold her, to tell her how I used to hear her screams as a child, that I want to make it so she never has to suffer another nightmare again.
But before I can say anything, she speaks. Stifling all declarations I might have made myself.
‘It’ll take more than pretty words to earn my forgiveness, Silver-Tongue.’
WHITE WAVE
LEILANI
ASTROPHEL’SGAZESWEEPSthe mountainside again. ‘Surely we’ve lost them, by now?’
I tighten my grip on his waist, try to ignore my brandsong’s dark whispers. We’ve been running from the guards for seven moonsrisings. Seven moonsrisings spent trying to rebuild our strength and trust in each other as we travel the Desolate Peaks.
A sense of homecoming stirs in my chest as the cragstalker picks its way along the narrow path. My people have been displaced, dispossessed – but we belong to these mountains. They call to me, claiming me for their own, as I inhale the pinesap in the too-thin air, and watch the rising sun daub the sky above the glistening snow-capped peaks with streaks of pink, orange and lavender.
‘They might be Highlanders,’ Astrophel mutters to himself, ‘but they haven’t the tincture to help them as we have. They must have turned back.’
Even with the tincture now inside me, I have to gulp great lungfuls of air to breathe comfortably, and behind the crisp menthol of the sap, there’s a bitterness that burns my throat and stings my eyes. Temperatures have dropped further overnight too, resulting in a heavier snowdrift.
I’m glad I doled it out when I did, that first night in the cave. I’m glad I didn’t wait. It took a few hours to fully work its way into our systems, but it’s served its purpose, bringing the Outrealmers back from the brink. Orthriel too. We’re surviving the peaks. But it’s hard to imagine the guards withstanding these conditions. Not for this long. The Arx Magnum may have bred horses to endure exposure to the lower passes of these mountains, but there are limits – even for the guards force-fed Briar’s blood as part of his vile experiments. There’s a reason the mountain cities had to be abandoned.
We’ve passed many of these ghost cities since fleeing Galtair – reminders of all the Sickening has stolen from my people. We’re less than a night’s ride from the largest of them. Talini – Estelia’s old capital and seat of the Starshrine. We passed one of its deserted watchtowers last night, and another stands a short distance ahead of us.
I want so desperately to believe Astrophel, to accept we’ve shaken off the guards, so I can stop checking over my shoulder. But something holds me back: a needling at the nape of my neck. Those doom-laden whispers that won’t let me alone. The nightly visitations from the Faceless Woman.
The dream is always the same. Her trying to talk, to tell me something. Something important. Something that will change the course of our quest. But though she struggles, though she claws at me with beseeching fingers, I can’t understand her lipless grunts, her tongueless moans. And then the flames start to burn, the smoke to thicken. And I wake up gasping, chest tight as if I’d been truly smothered, no clearer as to why she comes, what she means to impart. Left only with a lingering conviction, deep and sure, something’s hunting us. Something besides the Arx Magnum’s cavalry.
I’m reaching for the starstone, determined to access my second-sight, to search its tapestry of silver threads for answers, something clear-cut this time, when an arrow whistles through the air.
I flatten myself against Astrophel’s back and stare up at the rocky mountain ledges. The bowmen aren’t visible, but arrows are raining down. They must be hidden up there. Surrounding us. My blood runs cold. Those transfusions from Briar must have been as potent as the Arx Magnum hoped.
Astrophel shouts for the others to steer the cragstalkers towards a tangle of pine trees. The scraggly branches provide poor cover, but it’s better than remaining in the open.
