Lysander raises a paw, eliciting a shrill noise from Lyda, but all he does is press her against the wall so I can search for something to bind her hands.
“Too bad I don’t have those shackles you used on me,” I mutteras I tie her wrists together with strips of cloth from my already-ruined tunic. It’ll have to do, at least for the few minutes it takes to reach our destination.
I steer her down the hall by her shoulders, giving Lysander a nod of thanks. His eyes are still brown, and my heart beats faster with the need to get to Meredy.
“Where are you taking me?” Lyda asks quietly.
I don’t answer. She’ll figure it out soon enough on her own, when we descend the dark steps to the dungeon.
XXXI
It’s not hard to find the crowd this time. Judging by the sight and sound of things, one of the Shades has found them before me. A column of smoke rises over the buildings facing the harbor, dark against the pale gray sky, and Lysander and I run through the empty streets toward the beacon of ash.
I search for Meredy each time we pass a body in the road. My stomach sinks further when Lysander stops to sniff the air and whines near the alley where we saw her last.
I’ve lost enough,morethan enough for any lifetime, in just a few months. And somehow, cold and wet and tired as I am, I have to be ready to fight whatever awaits me deeper in the city. I have to protect whatever life Grenwyr has left. And I can’t lose hope.
As we approach a dense cluster of buildings where fishermen live and sell their wares, the voices and shouts that began as faint murmurs on the palace hill grow louder. I stride through the alleybetween two pale stone buildings and find myself at the back of a crowd. A hundred people or more have formed a circle around the fire that guided me here. Hadrien’s weather mage must have fled or been killed, or he’d have doused these flames by now.
Tears flow freely down some of the gathered faces. But their shouts, I realize, are calls of triumph. There are even a few smiles reflected in the dwindling blaze.
“Was that a Shade?” I ask a grim-faced woman in the uniform of a palace chambermaid, pointing to the pile of rubble slowly burning down to nothing.
“Two of them,” the woman answers, nodding.
“Did Prince Hadrien’s guards kill—?”
The woman cuts me off with a wave and a glare. “Them? They ran away after one of the monsters ate their captain.We”—she nods to a ragged-looking assortment of Grenwyr’s fishermen, merchants, and farmers—“were the only ones who didn’t flee or hide. We trapped the last two monsters here and threw torches at them. They were outnumbered. Didn’t know who to grab or which way to turn.”
I take a deep breath and slowly exhale, gazing around. Some people are dispersing from the crowd, calling loved ones’ names. A few boys start moving the bodies of the fallen into neat rows where their families can identify them. And a tall willowy girl raises her arms to the sky in a sort of elegant dance, squeezing rain from the heavy clouds to put out the remaining flickers of fire around us with magic worthy of a master weather mage’s robes.
Maybe I shouldn’t worry so much about this city and its people. It turns out Karthia can take care of itself, just like Hadrien thought.
Someone taps me on the shoulder. Before I can turn around, a familiar voice says, “Thank Vaia you’re all right! Meredy said you were headed to the palace alone to confront Hadrien. I was so worried for you, I nearly threw up. Also—hello.”
“Valoria!”
As I turn to face the princess, time seems to slow. Everything around us fades into the distance. Studying her soot-blackened face, her matted blond hair and crooked glasses, I wonder if she’s ready to hear that she’s now queen. To hear what I had to do. But there are other pressing matters. Too many of them.
“Have you seen Meredy and Danial?” I blurt. “Are you hurt? Are they?”
I can’t bring myself to ask about Jax and Simeon.
“I’m fine, thanks to the quick thinking of the good people of Grenwyr.” Valoria tries to rub some of the ash off her face, but she just smears it around. “But... your trip to the palace...” She frowns, searching my eyes. “What happened up there? Where’s Hadrien?”
A heavy weight fills my stomach as I hear the ache in her voice. “I’m sorry, Valoria. But he gave me a terrible choice,” I explain slowly, hoping she can sense my regret. “He had his hand around my neck, and he said one of us had to die. To think of what was best for Karthia. So... I chose.”
She stops me with a look. “After everything he did... I’m just glad I didn’t have to do it myself.” She bows her head, then takes my hands.
For a moment, we’re joined in silence.
Necromancer and queen.
Friends, after everything.
“But... I can’t bequeen,” she says at last. “I never thought I’d—I don’t know the first thing about leading. I hardly left my tower until I met you.” Her cheeks redden as she continues, “And the Dead—those who are left—they’re terrified of what Hadrien’s brought out in people. I don’t think they’d welcome a living ruler. I want to cure the sick and study our magic, but... I don’t want the crown if it’s going to make me set in my ways and completely unaware of the plight of everyone who needs me. Or one who frightens and bullies people into giving me more power.”
I gently poke Valoria in the shoulder. “Enough. You’re nothim. And you’re not King Wylding, either.” I squeeze her hand, earning a reluctant smile. “You’re exactly what Karthia needs. Even if no one realizes it yet. You have to believe it first, and others will follow. You’ll see, my queen.”
