Chapter 7
Chapter
Seven
T he next morning, we set off for a new camp.
The damage I’d done to my body must have been more severe than I thought, because even though Cordellia had allowed me fresh water, a hot meal, and even a bedroll for the night, I was still barely able to keep up with the mortals as we marched several hours through the wilderness.
It didn’t help that she insisted I be blindfolded. I assured her I had no way of communicating my location—the flameroot had severed my connection to Sorae—but my promises went unheard, and I was left to stumble aimlessly over every rock and fallen limb in our path.
I had some idea of where we might be. The sound of distant waves and seagulls hinted that a coastline was nearby. Despite the winter season, the air was getting warmer and drier, suggesting we were closer to the desert climate of Ignios, Realm of Sand and Flame, rather than the humid jungles of Arboros’s western neighbor, Faunos, Realm of Beast and Brute.
Eventually we arrived, and the mortals set about rebuilding their makeshift city. My frequent offers to assist were either outright ignored or met with colorful descriptions of where exactly I could shove my help.
The mortals were efficient, leading me to suspect moving was a frequent occurrence. By nightfall on the first day, the camp looked as if it had been there for weeks rather than hours.
Unlike the Guardians of Lumnos, these mortals had no lives outside of the rebel camp. They could not escape to the normalcy of a home shielded from their illicit rebellion, the way my mother had done for so many years. There were children and elderly here, entire family units living among the tents.
There would be no isolating any compromised members or mitigating the fallout. If their work here was discovered by the Descended, every last one of them was doomed.
I yearned to know more about what had brought them to this point. Arboros had a Mortal City of its own near the Ring Road—my mother and I had stayed there during our annual trips to Arboros’s massive medicinal herb market. So why had these mortals chosen to live a nomadic life hiding deep within the forest?
Were they fugitives like Brecke, wanted for crimes in other realms? Had they been run out of town by other mortals for fear the rebel efforts would bring the Descended’s wrath down on all their heads? Or perhaps they were true believers, dedicated enough to give over their entire lives to the cause.
If any of them had been willing to share their stories, Cordellia made sure they never got the chance. Over the next week that passed, two Guardians kept watch at all times, and their orders seemed to be keeping other mortals out as much as keeping me in.
My guards had little interest in talking—in fact, my interest only made them look at me with more suspicion. After a few days of one-sided efforts, I learned that if I pretended to sleep, they would eventually begin to chat. Following this discovery, I conveniently developed a mysterious case of narcolepsy that had me “napping” around the clock.
My persistence paid off late one night, when most of the mortals had gone to sleep and the camp was quiet. The man and woman guarding me turned from the usual camp gossip and Descended bashing to a discussion of Guardian activity in other realms.
“I hear the army hasn’t even tried to take back the island,” the man said. “They surrounded it with warships so we can’t get in or out, but they haven’t sent any soldiers to fight.”
“Those bastards and their long lives,” the woman answered. “They probably plan to wait it out and let the mortals on the island die of old age.”
“Mother Dell says they have to take it back by Forging Day or their magic will start going wrong.”
“‘Going wrong’? What in the Flames does that mean?”
“I don’t fuckin’ know, do I look like an expert on Descended magical hoo-ha to you? I just know it means we could have some more action real soon.”
“Forging Day is three months away. Can our people hold out that long?”
“Dunno. Let’s hope they don’t have to.”
“We’re gonna need reinforcements. Even with the Lumnos cell, we barely took the island. Could the Meros cell help?”
“They need to keep up what they’re doing. They already blew up half the docks at the port, and they set up blockades on the waterways leading off the continent. It’s keeping the army distracted, which is good for our guys on the island.”
“What about the cells up north?”
“There’s some real interesting rumors going ‘round up there. A bunch of messenger hawks came this morning, and one of ‘em was from the Montios base. Apparently some Descended showed up out of nowhere, claiming he hates his own kind and wants ‘em dead as bad as we do.”
“And they took his word for it?”
“He musta done something to prove himself, I guess. They say he’s real powerful.”
“I don’t care. We shouldn’t be working with them. It’s bad enough that we have to play nice with two false Quee—”
“Shift’s over, folks. Me and Herkin have got it from here.”
My eyes opened in surprise at the familiar voice. Brecke was standing nearby, staring at me, his expression uncharacteristically hardened. A second Guardian stood next to him—a short, gangly twenty-something whose boyish features and patchy beard looked as if puberty had skipped right over him.
The two mortals guarding me glared at Brecke. There was a venom in their sneers I didn’t quite understand, one usually reserved only for me.
“You’re too early, army boy,” the man grunted. “Our shift doesn’t end ‘til dawn.”
Brecke shrugged, unbothered by the demeaning tone. “They just opened a casket of wine. Me and Herkin here are the newest to camp, and Mother Dell said we haven’t earned wine privileges yet. She sent us to relieve you two for the night.”
The guards looked at each other and grinned. I sat upright, watching the interaction with curiosity.
Brecke grabbed Herkin’s arm and started to leave. “If you’d rather stay here and babysit, I guess we can—”
“Not so fast.” The male guard hopped to his feet. “If Mother Dell gave you an order, you don’t get to change it. That’s not how we do things in Arboros.”
Brecke raised his palms in surrender. “Lesson learned. We’ll take over here.”
The two didn’t put up any further argument as they slapped each other excitedly on the arms and jogged off toward the sea of tents.
Brecke remained still and watched them walk away. His too-intense focus had my instincts prickling. When they were finally out of sight, he turned back to me.
“Get up. Mother Dell said to take you to the river to bathe. You’re stinking up the camp.”
His voice was biting and aloof. This wasn’t the Brecke I knew. He’d brought me my daily meals since we’d moved camps, and though we kept our discussions minimal in light of the Guardians in constant earshot, he’d always at least been courteous.
“Now?” I asked. “It’s the middle of the night.”
“This isn’t your fancy palace, princess. You do what you’re told, when you’re told.”
I bristled. “Brecke, what’s going on?”
He rolled his eyes. “Get her chains off, Herkin.”
The man at his side stumbled a step. “Me? But—but I... she’s a... maybe you should—”
“ Do it .”
Herkin jumped a mile. He practically quivered as he shuffled toward me and unwound my chains with wobbling hands. I seriously considered shouting boo! at him and shaving a few years off of his life from sheer panic.
Brecke’s stare locked with mine, and my brows creased in a questioning frown. He quickly looked away.
Once Herkin had the chains unlatched, he looked at me and gulped, then tried tugging me to my feet with laughably light pressure. I felt bad enough for him that I complied without argument.
“Brecke,” I started again.
“No talking, Descended.” He looked at Herkin and pointed to the forest. “You lead her, I’ll keep watch from behind.”
Herkin gave the faintest rattle of my chains, then whooshed out a giant sigh of relief when I obediently fell into step beside him.
We left the warm glow of the firelit camp and marched into the surrounding forest. With the leafy canopy blocking all moonlight, the area was nearly pitch black, lit only by the soft glow of my Crown.
“Did Mother Dell really tell you we should do this?” Herkin called out meekly over his shoulder. “I thought she said to keep the prisoner in the camp at all times.”
“Are you accusing me of lying?” Brecke rumbled, low and lethal.
“No, I just—”
“You’re calling me a traitor who would betray the Guardians to help a Descended Queen? Because if so, I will defend my honor. To the death , if necessary.”
“No!” Herkin squeaked. “No, no—no death necessary. Forget I said anything.”
“Good. Keep walking.”
As we continued on, the light of camp became a dot in the distance, though the burbling sounds of the nearby stream were getting further away, rather than closer. Hair rose on the back of my neck.
Something about this wasn’t right.
Something was—
I froze at a sudden flash of movement, followed by the sickening sound of metal crushing into flesh and bone. Herkin’s limp body collapsed to the ground.
Brecke towered above him, the blood-flecked hilt of a rapier in his hands. “Sorry, kiddo.” He reached down and laid a finger against Herkin’s throat. “Ah, he’s fine. He’ll have a hell of a headache tomorrow, though.”
“Brecke,” I hissed, “what in the Undying Fire is going on?”
“Keep your voice down, Bellator.” He sheathed his blade, then pulled a key from his pocket. He unlocked the shackles from my wrists and let them fall to the soil with a soft thump. As I gaped at him, his expression brightened into a wry grin. “I’ll explain later. Come on, help me drag him over there.”
We pulled Herkin’s unconscious body to a nearby tree, where a pile of supplies had been stashed in a knot of gnarled roots. Brecke got to work tying Herkin up and gagging him with a long strip of fabric. He unlatched the dagger at Herkin’s hip and started to hand it to me, then seemed to think better of it. He shot me an apologetic look as he nestled it in his own belt.
“Follow me,” he whispered.
I trailed him as we doubled back to the rebel camp, though we kept a safe distance while creeping around the perimeter to the other side. I caught fleeting glances at parts of the camp I hadn’t seen before—a makeshift infirmary where several bodies were laid out on cots, a corral with a handful of horses and small livestock, and several wooden carts laden with the rebels’ trademark bombs.
Voices broke the silence. Brecke grabbed my arm and yanked me down beneath a patch of brush. He scowled at my Crown, his face illuminated in a wash of pale blue light. “Can’t you turn that thing off?”
“Oh, now you want me to use my magic,” I muttered.
“Just put it away before it gets us killed.”
I frowned. Lily had told me once that late King Ulther rarely wore his, so I knew it was possible to conceal it, though all my attempts to will it away thus far had failed. But that had been before I learned to control my godhood.
I reached down inside myself, searching for some magical lightswitch I’d never been able to find before, but I found only the vacant gulf left behind by the flameroot.
Then again, maybe the Crown wasn’t like my godhood. After all, it was a creation of the Kindred’s Forging spell, not my own magic. Maybe it didn’t live inside me at all.
I closed my eyes and pushed my consciousness outside my own body, then sharpened my focus onto the space above my head.
I felt... something . It wasn’t like anything I’d experienced before. It didn’t feel like its own living thing, the way the godhood did, nor was it a connection to something else, like my bond with Sorae.
This felt like a glowing ember escaped from its hearth, a twinkling star plucked from the midnight sky and entrusted to me for safekeeping. Its energy felt entirely other —something that did not belong to me and would one day return to the source from which it came.
I could sense instinctively that I had no real control over it. I could not change it or destroy it or give it away. I could only hold it—on my head or in my heart.
So I tugged it down, deep into my soul. A warm sensation followed its path through my head and neck until it nestled in a pocket of my chest, a pair of flames flickering in the void.
“Did it work?” I asked.
I opened my eyes, surprised to see only darkness. I blinked a few times until my vision adjusted and focused in on Brecke’s face.
Wariness crept onto his shadowed features as he took a slow step back. “Does this mean the flameroot wore off?”
“I’ll answer that if you tell me what we’re doing.”
“I’m helping you escape.”
A ball of guilt knotted in my belly. “Is this Henri’s doing? Did he come to break me out?”
“No,” Brecke said simply. “And I’d appreciate it if you never tell him I had any part in this.”
I shuffled my feet. I wanted to escape—I’d begged for it—but Cordellia had not yet heard back from the Crowns on her offer to trade me for my mother. Leaving now could seal her fate.
“Your turn,” Brecke said. “Is your magic back?”
“No,” I admitted. “It’s still gone. The flameroot doesn’t affect the Crown, I guess.”
“Why not?”
“Well, again, the Crowns were just about to tell me how everything works when somebody decided to detonate a bunch of bombs, and now—”
“Forget I asked. Let’s go, we don’t have much time before someone notices you’re missing.”
We continued slinking through the forest, the sound of rolling waves growing louder. When the trees gave way to a sandy beach, Brecke held out an arm to hold me back. He craned his neck, peering through the night in search of something.
I nervously drummed my fingers on my thigh. “Brecke, I can’t believe I’m saying this, but maybe I should go back. Cordellia said—”
“There,” he whispered, pointing.
Further down the beach, a cloaked figure crouched alongside a small sailing dinghy. Brecke let out a soft whistle that sounded like birdsong, and the figure turned our direction. A second later, the same whistle came echoing back.
Brecke stepped onto the beach and gestured for me to follow. As we neared the boat, the moon cast its silvery light on the figure’s face. I froze in place.
“Cordellia?” I asked, glancing between the two of them. “What’s going on?”
“A response from Fortos arrived this morning,” she said. “They rejected any trade for your return. I believe their exact words were ‘ Do with her what you will. All those who are guilty will face their consequences in due course. ’”
I clenched my jaw. “In other words, go ahead and kill her so we don’t have to do it ourselves. ”
She nodded. “Now that they know your mother is a Guardian, they must suspect you were involved in the attack on the island.”
I looked out over the inky waters of the Sacred Sea. The lights of the army warships surrounding Coeur?le bobbed in the distance, barely visible on the horizon.
“What does this mean for rescuing my mother?” I asked. “Vance said you’re not willing to give the island up in exchange for her.”
“He’s right. It’s too valuable to sacrifice for any one person, even your mother.”
My whole body sagged with the weight of hopelessness.
“But,” she continued, “I’ve let them think we’re still considering it. Perhaps they’ll keep her alive long enough to see if she can be useful in getting the island back.”
I let out a long, relieved sigh. “Thank you, Cordellia.”
“Don’t thank me yet. I’m letting you return to Lumnos, but if the Crowns believe you’re working with us, your life may be in very real danger, even in your own realm.”
“My life has been in danger since the second I became Queen. If the Crowns want me dead, they’ll have to get in line.”
She flashed a smirk, though it faded fast. “I don’t know how long our people can hold Coeur?le. You need to get to your mother and free her yourself—soon.”
I nodded grimly. “I’ll find a way.”
“I’m sorry for the secrecy in sneaking you out, but my people would not have stood by and let you walk away. It’s better for us both if they believe you escaped.”
I looked at Brecke. “What about you? When Herkin wakes up...”
He gave a casual shrug. “My time here is over, too. Dell was kind enough to take me in, but the others never really took to me. My army service will always make me a Descended sympathizer to them.”
That was a sentiment I understood well—one I’d battled in my own way over my father’s legacy.
“Where will you go now?” I asked.
“A cell up north, I think. Things there are heating up. As long as I’m willing to fight, I doubt they’ll ask too many questions.”
Guilt nipped at my heels. Brecke had risked his life and his reputation to help me, and now he was being forced into a warzone to escape the fallout.
“You could come to Lumnos instead,” I offered. “The boat is small, but perhaps we could both fit. I can conceal you in the palace, or Henri—”
Brecke shook his head. “It’s too dangerous for me there. Lumnos is swarming with army soldiers. If any of them recognized me, they’d kill me on the spot.”
I frowned. “Why are Emarion Army soldiers in my realm?”
“A missing queen means an empty throne,” Cordellia answered for him. “Power won’t tolerate a void for long—it must always be filled by someone.”
Brecke nodded. “You should get back and begin your reign before someone else does it for you.” He winked. “ Your Majesty .”
I smiled and reached out a hand. “Thank you for helping me, Brecke. I won’t forget it.”
He clasped my wrist. “Don’t think I’ve forgotten about that favor you owe me for the blade I gave you when we met. I’ll call it in one of these days.”
I swallowed down the painful memory of how I’d burned the knife away in my meltdown after my father’s death. Perhaps someday Brecke and I would share a drink while I told him the story of the blade’s demise—but not today.
Cordellia stepped in my path. “I have one condition before you go.”
She held out a flask, and I knew instantly what it contained.
“Haven’t I taken enough? My magic is already gone, and we just agreed that I’m going back to a realm where people want me dead.”
Cordellia’s hard stare left no room for debate. “I have to ensure your magic doesn’t return before I’ve had time to move my people to a new campsite. There are weapons in the boat. That’s all we get as mortals, so it will have to be enough for you.”
I snatched the flask from her hand, shooting them both unhappy looks as I forced down gulp after gulp of the disgusting liquid. I peered into the boat, noting a pair of dull grey metal blades, a bow, and a quiver of arrows.
“No godstone?” I asked wryly between sips.
“It took us centuries to collect the godstone weapons we have. They’ll be crucial in the coming war. We can’t afford to lose even a single piece.” Her eyes narrowed. “You already destroyed a gryvern bolt that dated back to the Blood War.”
“And I’ll destroy the second one, if you try to kill Sorae again,” I warned. I held up the flask. “You have your conditions, and I have mine.”
She brushed back the edge of her overcoat, revealing the glittering blade of a godstone dagger. A subtle threat—but, judging from her silence, not enough to change her mind about helping me.
I handed back the empty flask, then walked over to the boat and climbed inside. Next to the weapons was a pack of food and a water gourd, as well as a heavy hooded cloak.
I looked back up. “Why are you helping me, Cordellia?”
She considered me for a moment. “What you said the other day about there being good people among the Descended—it reminded me of Auralie.”
I frowned, confused. Never in my life had I heard my mother speak kindly about the Descended. All she would ever tell me is that they were dangerous, and I had to stay far away.
“She had similar ideas about trying to work with them,” she continued. “It frequently caused issues with Vance. He was always pushing for more bloodshed. She and I spoke often about the difficulties we faced leading people like him.”
My heart ached to hear her describe my mother in a way that was so foreign. She and I had always been close, spending most of every day together, either at home or the healer’s center. Though I’d known she had her secrets, I thought I knew her better than anyone, even my father—but the Auralie that Cordellia was describing might as well be a stranger.
“Beyond her desire for peace,” Cordellia went on, “your mother was strategic. If she had planned that attack on the armory, she would have done it quietly, with no bombs and little bloodshed, and she would have framed a Descended to leave them fighting each other for blame. Vance’s approach was reckless. It put a target on all the mortals, and it nearly ruined the mission on Coeur?le that we’ve been planning for years.
“Vance is a loyal Guardian, I don’t deny that, but if your mother had known she would be gone for this long, I don’t believe she would have left him in control of the Lumnos cell. He plans to return to Lumnos tomorrow, and I admit, I share your concern at what he might do. I would feel better if you were there to temper him. Perhaps you can find a way to target his hatred on the people who deserve it.”
I nodded. “I’ll do my best.”
She smiled, the first genuine one she’d ever offered me. “I suppose we’re allies now, so you might as well call me Dell.”
She beckoned to Brecke and they stepped forward to the water’s edge, shoving the boat off the sand. Brecke gave me a final salute and turned back to the forest, but Cordellia lingered.
“There’s a large camp in Montios,” she called out. “Your mother knows where it is. If you’re able to free her, get her there, and she’ll be safe. So will your brother.”
“But not me?”
She gave me a sympathetic look, but didn’t bother to deny it.
I swallowed. “Thank you, Dell. I’m truly sorry for your people that died. If I could, I would prevent even a drop of mortal blood from spilling.”
“I believe that you mean that, Diem, and I believe you have a good heart. But I fear you’ve not yet come to terms with the sacrifices this war will require before it’s over—from everyone involved.”
I had no answer to offer her, only an ominous suspicion her words might prove even truer than I could imagine.
I took the oars in my hands and began my long journey home.
“I’m trusting you,” Cordellia shouted with a quick wave. “Don’t make me regret it.”