Maylie stopped short.
‘To see all the ceremonies,’ Gredie added in a rush. ‘The Maiden Sacrifice, the royal funeral and the coronation of the new King!’
A herald had arrived in Silicia yesterday, spreading the news of King Borto’s death throughout the Mountain villages, and inviting his subjects to the funeral in the capital.
‘Why would we do such a thing?’ asked Maylie, trying to ignore the quick, panicked thud of her heart.
‘’Cause loads of people in Silicia are going.’
Gredie peered at her from beneath his mop of hair. All of Maylie’s sons had the same pale brown hair and light eyes as their father.
‘Bosiccie said his family are making the trip tomorrow. Can we go too,please? I’ve never been to the capital and they said ’tis amazing. Nothing like Silicia. Or even Morccia – and that’s the biggest Mountain village I know.’
A memory of Tormale and the Pits surfaced in Maylie’s mind. She saw cramped, winding streets and oily cobblestones.
‘Your friend has never been to Tormale,’ said Maylie, trying to keep her voice steady. ‘’Tisn’t amazing, as they say. ’Tis dirty and teeming.’
Gredie groaned. ‘I knew you’d say no. Can’tIgo with them if they’ll let me?’
‘No.’
Maylie strode ahead, fighting to keep old, painful memories buried.
‘’Tis not fair!’ Gredie shouted behind her. ‘You’ve seen it. You used to live there!’
Maylie stopped again. Fear clutched at her throat. ‘Who told you that?’ she snapped, turning around.
Gredie fiddled with the stick in his hands. ‘Bosiccie’s mam mentioned it. I asked Pap if it were true and he said it were.’
‘What else did your pap say?’
Gredie blinked. ‘Nothing.’
Maylie exhaled a fine, silvery gasp into the cooling evening air.
‘Why have you never mentioned it before, Mam?’
‘’Tis not nice to think of,’ she replied.
‘Why did you come back to Silicia? Dracie moved to the city two winters ago and wrote to his grandpap that he’ll never return. He said it were better in the city than here.’
Maylie bit her lip. She did not want to lie to her son. ‘I … I came back because I missed the mountains,’ she said finally.
It was somewhat true.
They both looked to their right, where the scrubby ground sloped ever upwards, its sides becoming rocky before soaring into the jagged, craggy peaks of the mountain tops. Woodland and streams veined the mountains’ sides and snow swaddled their peaks. They were the jewel of the region of Calestra. Undeniably magnificent and mysterious.
‘You do love the mountains,’ muttered Gredie with a shake of his head.
‘And so do you.’
He shrugged. ‘At the schoolhouse today everyone was saying the ceremonies in Tormale will be mighty. The teacher said it willbe the biggest days of celebrations in our lifetime.’ Gredie stepped closer, dropping his chin. ‘Can I go to Tormale with my friends? Please, Mam.’
Maylie reached out and touched his cheek. It still had the soft downiness of boyhood.
‘Let me speak to your pap.’
Gredie grinned. ‘We should hurry,’ he said. ‘Pap’s made butter mash and if we’re late, Harie will eat it all.’ He ducked out of her grasp and scampered ahead, thrashing his stick back and forth through the long grass. He knew he had won.
