Chapter 59
Thaan had said the entire royal family was traveling to Cynthus Castle, but the King didn’t come.
Queen Lyrena kept mostly to herself, reading by the fire as her children played a board game on the floor, a checkered plaque with wooden pieces they moved up and down. From the sound of it, Prince Mallus was losing to Princess Breer.
Diara had offered to go riding with me, but I declined, feigning a need for sleep after the long coach ride. Feeling slightly guilty for leaving her alone with the royal family, I retired to my room.
Door closed and the air around me quiet, I sat cross-legged in my bed, the journal beside me, and turned to the section with the stone. Vowels and consonants tumbled out of the ink of my pen as I scribbled lines from the text, gazing at my translation in muted awe.
Ceba is determined to free herself, but I worry the fixation borders on obsession. There is little said between us other than the repeated words of Theia, and when I look in Ceba’s eyes, all I see is a single-minded passion for an impossible goal.
If obtaining the Breath of Safiro is what we need to gain control over Thaan, I’m unsure if I want it. It’s said to be hidden somewhere in the fishing islands to the south, ruled by Queen Sidra, who I fear even more than him.
The only thing I know beyond a doubt is that vowing in one’s blood might lend a loyalty of the body. But it casts a virulence of the mind. Ceba’s daily thoughts grow more malignant, and as the days pass, I become more aware of the neurosis behind each spoken word. Ceba will either succeed or die, and I can do nothing but watch as my sister drowns herself in her hate.
I exhaled. After spending two hours translating letter by letter, my candles were low in their dishes, a soreness traversing the muscles of my lower back. Reading the passage over again, I rubbed my fingertips into my chest, quelling the ache that had tightened as I remembered who Ceba was to Selena. The sister who couldn’t escape Thaan. Whose blood vow bound her so tight she’d finally killed herself.
I forced the thought away, too aware of the words Selena and I had thrown at each other in our last conversation. My eyes lingered in the center of the text. Obtaining the Breath of Safiro is what we need to gain control over Thaan.
The Breath of Safiro.
I’d held it in my hand.
I could still feel it—cold under the ice of the volcano, the blue glow vibrating against my skin. Nori and Olinne had stared at it as if it were worth more than all the other jewels in the world.
Give it to me, child. It is dangerous in human hands.
Ceba had been searching for the stone to free herself from her vow. But she hadn’t known where to look, beyond the general area of the Juile Sea and the islands within.
I did. I knew exactly where it was.
Diara slid into the bed next to me, pressing the frozen icicles she called feet against my calves. I squealed and whipped around; she flashed me a guilty smile.
“Sorry to wake you. It’s draftier than the stables of Pirou in my room,” she whispered, her teeth clenching.
I pressed my lips together. I hadn’t been asleep. Attempting to nurse away the gnaw in my belly that came and went whenever I was alone, I’d been busy staring at the canopy above my bed, failing to flush thoughts of Kye from my head. “Snuggle in.”
We listened to the sounds of the house. Hadrian was awake in the royal guest room next to mine. Muffled sounds came from his bedroom next door. Down the hall, dishes and silverware clattered. Diara pressed her cold hands into my shoulder. “What are you planning to do today?”
“Mihauna alive,” I burst, flinching away. Diara cackled and forced herself closer, devouring the heat of the mattress. Surrendering completely, I flung back my coverlet and rolled out of bed.
“You need a bath,” Diara advised me, shivering.
I smirked, smelling myself to ensure she was teasing. “Thank you.”
A knock sounded at my door. I cracked it open, positioning myself so that he couldn”t spot the Diara-sized lump under my blankets.
“Lady Princess?” Gerard, the caretaker of Cynthus Castle, asked on the other side of the door.
I started. “Oh—just Maren.”
He blinked, his mouth thinning. “Lady Maren?”
I supposed that was appropriate.
“Prince Hadrian has invited you to ride with him this morning.”
Clenching my teeth, I forced a smile. “Alright. Please tell him I accept.”
He sent a quick glance to my bare feet, ignoring my nightdress. I pulled myself further behind the door.
“It would be wise to dress warmly,” he said. “The wind can bite along the cliffs.” His lips pinched together as his gaze flickered down my side, then he turned sharply down the hall. Something told me he didn’t approve of me.
Closing my door, I shoved Diara’s body over and nestled in beside her, thrusting the covers over my head as well. “There are extra quilts and pillows in the chest at the foot of the bed,” I said. “Take them all back with you tonight.”
Diara groaned. “Can’t I just stay here?”
I poked her in the ribs. Diara slapped my fingers away. Biting back a laugh, I listened to the roaming feet in the room next to mine. “What do you do in Pirou in the month of Virccos?” I asked.
Diara exhaled. Swallowed. “We ride. Tend to foals, the younger mothers. Field the pastures, fill mud trenches. Begin training the yearlings. Prepare to sell the destriers for cavalry.”
My breath fogged, warm against my face. I pulled the quilts off, drawing in a deep breath of fresh air.
Diara peeled back the covers as well. “What are they doing in Leihani?”
I cocked my head against my pillow. “It”s the dry season in Leihani right now. Fishing season.”
“It’s fishing season every day in Leihani.”
I smiled at the wall, though it didn’t quite meet my eyes. The face of a cabin boy flashed in my vision, frail and thin, preceded and trailed by six weeks of failed fishing.
“What would you have been doing in Leihani in Virccos?” Diara asked.
“Gardening. Planting herbs and fruits. Paddling in my va’a.”
Diara’s face curled with sudden amusement, and I suppressed a wild giggle, knowing what thought suddenly streaked through her head.
“Which boats do you mean?” she asked in a perfect impression of Hadrian, “The smaller voyaging boats, or the one-man fishing boats?”
Laughter suited her. Her skin was bright, hair disheveled and rich with golden warmth.
I hadn’t thought of my va’a for months until the day before. Twisting my mouth into a grin, I sniggered with her, pulling our heads again below the darkness of the covers. Diara adopted the low voice of a man. “What are one-man boats called, lowly islander girl? Canoes? Wrong. Outrigger canoes.”
I snorted, rolling away to emerge from the bed, and Diara yanked me back, mock gravity knit between her brows.
“This is serious. What kind of fish do you eat in Leihani?” she continued. “Tuna? Wrong. Island fish.”
“Stop,” I whispered, though I knew the house couldn’t hear her.
“What kind of molten liquid comes out of volcanoes in Leihani? Magma? WRONG. Extremely hot melted rock.”
A knock at the door made us both freeze. “Lady Maren?” came Gerard’s voice softly through the wood. “The horse is saddled for you.”
“Thank you,” I called.
Diara’s mouth clenched shut. We listened to Gerard leave again, and Diara blew a raspberry. “Have fun riding all afternoon with him. He seems dull enough to put an Aalton priest to sleep.”