Very few men, he noticed, came with them. What men there were had either seen too many winters, or too few to even call them men.
A sudden break in the crowd drew his gaze. A young woman had stopped at the base of the hill, helping an older woman to her feet. She straightened slowly, brushing dust from the skirt of her dress. The morning light spilled over her dark hair and sun-kissed skin, catching in the folds of her shawl, turning the edges to silver.
For one breathless instant, from where Val-Theris stood, she aligned perfectly with the broken pedestal in the center of the plaza.
It was as though she were standingon it.
The sun struck her profile. Around her, the golden walls gleamed like the remnants of his vision. He felt that strange tightening in his chest. Rohannes said something, but Val-Theris didn’t hear it. His eyes were fixed on the woman below.
His voice faltered, speaking quietly into the wind.“Is this why you weep?”
The woman lifted her head just then, as if she had heard him, or some invisible string lifted her soft green gaze for her. Their eyes met across the distance, too brief to mean anything at all, but something passed between them all the same:
The soft shock of inevitability.
The girl blinked, her hand rising instinctively to her chest. Val-Theris felt his own do the same, and then exhaled a shaky breath. The ache of her gaze lodged itself into his ribs like a shard of glass. Then the crowd shifted, swallowing her from view.
When he finally spoke, his voice was thin. “I want their leaders brought before me as soon as they settle.”
Rohannes inclined his head, still oblivious to the tremor in his king’s tone.
Val-Theris turned from the pedestal, but as he returned to his golden throne, his skull throbbed with the effort of trying to remember if the features in the marble were that of the Lunarethian girl.
ONE
The river didn’t just carryfreshwater, it carried the music of Lunareth.
From the winding terraces carved into the sandstone cliffs, the soft hum of woven drums mingled with the bright trill of reed flutes carried on the warm breeze down into the valley below. The lanterns had been strung early for the Festival of First Light, their pale silks and paper suns swaying gently in the twilight, painting the narrow streets in rippling shades of gold, indigo, and silver.
Jesenia stood barefoot on the smooth clay steps outside her family’s stone home, her shawl loose about her shoulders, its silver-threaded hem glinting faintly beneath the soft glow of hanging lamps. It had belonged to her beloved grandmother, who raised her and her brother.
In her country, family heirlooms were more valuable than gold, and so she was never seen without it. If it wasn’t hanging on her shoulders, it was draped over her hair and tied under her chin on a hot day.
Children raced past her, their laughter ringing sharp and bright as they scattered into the growing crowd gathered near the marketplace. Merchants called over one another fromtheir stalls, voices lilting and rich, offering dyed silks, bowls of saffroned rice, carved ivory beads, and cups of chilled persimmon wine.
Lunareth was more alive under the moon, and Jesenia lifted her chin to breathe in a deep inhale of the cool night air.
She felt a poke at her back and lightly squealed, turning to find the smiling face of her older brother, Danyel, behind her with his arms crossed loosely over his chest, painted in intricate patterns for the festival.
“You’re being strangely quiet,” he jested, softly nudging her shoulder, but they both knew Jesenia had never been a girl with many words, even before their grandmother had died. “Come to the square. Dance. Eat. Live.”
“Danyel–” Jesenia started, but he cut her off.
“No. No talk of the whispers you hear of war. Not tonight.”
“If not tonight, then when? We dance in the moonlight as Korvath marches towards our hills.”
“You don’t know that, Jesenia!” Danyel said, louder than he meant to. He took a deep breath and gave his sister a stern look. “Seraveth is a country far richer in resources than Lunareth. If war is coming, it’s heading for the Golden City.” Danyel took her arm and pulled her close before patting her dark hair with his hand. “We will be fine.”
Jesenia gave him a soft smile. “I hope you are right.”
“When have I ever been wrong?” he asked with a grin, returning to the crowd and disappearing behind a group of dancers.
Jesenia visited a stall for a warm tea before returning to the steps of her home. She took a seat there and watched as the people began to gather near the river bank.
The town elders in flowing robes knelt at the edge, whispering blessings as the children eagerly lined up in front of them to leave offerings of seeds and flower petals. Once thepaper lantern was filled with the gifts, the elders set it alight and gently pushed it into the river. The soft golden glow drifted lazily along the current until it disappeared into the night.
Jesenia, for a fleeting moment, wondered if the river would still carry the lantern next year.
