CHAPTER 85
Bristol climbed the hill to the isolated, windswept glade overlooking the sea. Far from the heart of Danu, Bristol’s parents were laid in a cradle of stones.
Unlike Logan’s and Leanna’s funerals in Bowskeep, where dozens crowded into a mortuary parlor, or Glennis’s funeral, where hundreds dotted the hills to pay their respects for a fallen knight, here there were exactly seven in attendance.
Other than Bristol and her friends, only Tyghan was there.
A hush of cold wind shivered through knee-deep grass.
The sight of their wrapped bodies lying on the stones gripped Bristol with finality.
No more second chances. New truths would have to be shared with her sisters.
The thought made her queasy. Instead of reciting the revered laws of the gods, or recalling history and valor, Bristol spoke about the lessons they taught their daughters, like perseverance, protection, and joy in the simplest moments: gathering stones for a campfire, strolling a museum gallery, dancing in the rain.
Bristol paused as images raced through her head, and it was always hands reaching out for them, her father, her mother, finding them, pulling them along, keeping them safe, loading them in the van for the next place and the next, hiding their worry, never giving up on their family.
“Never giving up,” Bristol whispered. “That’s what they taught us.”
She looked at their wrapped bodies, snug against each other, but she saw Mick’s sneering face hovering between them. You did this, Bristol. Remember that every day of your miserable reign. You should have left when you promised. She squeezed her eyes shut, blinking the horror away.
“Bri?” Rose said uncertainly. Bristol looked at her and nodded. Rose had plucked a handful of wildflowers along the way and she laid it between them.
Tyghan laid a bottle of whiskey and two shot glasses beside her father and whispered some words Bristol couldn’t hear, but when he turned back, his eyes were red.
Last, Bristol stepped forward with a pocketful of tiny stones, and pressed them into the dirt at their feet the way Cat would have done if she were there, creating their initials, LK, LK. Leanna Keats and Logan Keats. The people they tried to be.
Bristol’s throat closed as she set the last stone. She couldn’t deliver the final goodbye, so Julia stepped up for her. “Through the mists and over the golden waters to where the sun sets, the gods and Paradise await you. Go to your deserved rest, Logan and Leanna Keats.”
The winds blew in answer, a mournful whine, and Bristol wasn’t sure if it was the gods answering, or Willow, or maybe her own heart.
It was a small but fitting funeral. Bristol would remember the details, because her sisters would want to know. Cat would cry but soak in every word, especially the part about their initials, happy that they were honored, remembered, no matter where the stones were placed.
Tyghan hugged Bristol for a long while, not just for her sake but for his too.
He had been to Madame Chastain’s funeral earlier, and his heart was already low.
Tomorrow he had five more funerals to attend, among them Officer Perry’s and two cadets who had been minding a supply tent.
They lost seventy in all and the battle was hailed as a resounding victory—except for the families who had lost loved ones, like him and Bristol.
Because in the end, Madame Chastain was more than a mentor to him, and Kierus was still Tyghan’s brother.
He had proven that in their last minutes together.
It was going to be hard getting through these next days, but for Eris’s sake, and everyone else’s, he had to keep going.
For now, he was still king, and Knight Commander.
Tyghan finally ordered the sealing stones set on the vault, and fell into step beside Bristol as they walked back down the hill.
Halfway down, she said, “I’m going home, Tyghan.”
This didn’t catch him by complete surprise. He knew she would want to break the news to her sisters. “I understand. For how long?” he asked.
“For a while.”
“What does that mean?”
“I don’t know.”
But she needed to know. A few days of mourning were expected, but everyone would be clamoring to know when she would set up court and be accepting petitioners and making the first tithe for the cauldron.
It was her right and duty. “You’re the new queen of Elphame, Bristol. You can’t just leave without—”
“I’ll be gone indefinitely,” she said firmly. “My sisters need me. I’ve named Julia as my steward while I’m gone, and my squad as my officers.”
Tyghan was silent until they reached the bottom of the hill.
Julia? No one in Elphame even knew who she was.
Bristol was enough of an unknown—it would take days and weeks for Elphame to adjust to all the changes without adding to them.
He could understand leaving for a few days, but .
. . “You’ve only just become queen, Bristol. It’s an important—”
“My family is important too!” she snapped. “What’s left of it.”
He heard the accusation in her words. That it was his fault.
Maybe it was, her mother’s death at least. Tyghan had questioned the archers, just as he promised her.
They confirmed there was one last Fomorian attack near the stones, and one of their own fell to an axe.
Arrows flew fast, and it could have been a stray.
But Bristol’s disbelief still rang in his ears.
In the middle of her back? Unlikely, but Tyghan couldn’t prove it was intentional.
At least not yet. Even Cully swore it was an accident, but Tyghan saw no remorse in his eyes either.
Tyghan should have made his orders more clear, more imperative, not just rescinding the kill order but adding protection for Maire too.
But her father’s death, he had tried to protect Kierus, to keep him out of the council’s hands—and Kormick’s.
He wouldn’t push the point now, though. Bristol was still raw, her parents freshly buried—and Maire’s death seemed like a betrayal from the world Bristol was trying to protect.
“I’m sorry, Bri. I didn’t wish for your mother to die. ”
“And yet she’s still dead. I need to go, Tyghan. I need time. I can’t just jump in to take care of your world when my own is shattered.”
“You’re not the only one who is hurting. I tried to keep your father safe. I—”
“You’re blaming me now? That I was the one—”
He grabbed her by the shoulders. “Hold on. Let’s both just take a breath here.” He put his arm around her, and they walked silently back to their horses. “I have to take care of a few things when we get back to the palace, but I’ll have a meal brought to your room for us, and we’ll talk more then.”
She only nodded.
Had she grasped the gravity of her new position yet?
She wasn’t just under the scrutiny of many kingdoms who expected her to claim her throne now, but under the greedy eyes of many lords, like Csorba, who might seek to use her in other ways.
She couldn’t leave indefinitely. She needed the protection a full court could offer.
Bristol thought about Tyghan as she walked back to her room.
We’ll talk later. He couldn’t hide his disappointment at her decision, but she needed this.
A touchstone to her old life. A reminder that she once existed elsewhere, as someone else.
Not as a bloodmarked or a shapeshifter but as a sister.
That was all. She needed Harper and Cat as much as they needed her.
Their hearts all needed to heal, and she didn’t know how long it would take.
She pushed open her door, already planning her departure, but when she stepped inside, she froze.
For a moment she thought she had stepped into the wrong room.
It was a war zone. All of her bedding was stripped and tossed.
Pillows slashed. Her wardrobe emptied out.
Piles of clothes were strewn everywhere.
Even her mattress lay askew, half off her bed.
Ransacked. Her room had been ransacked.
Like she was staying at a shoddy motel along a lonely highway, and someone came looking for quick cash. But she had no cash, or anything of value other than her fancy gowns, and those had been left behind, scattered everywhere.
She drew her knife and readied her other hand to summon fire. “Hello?” she called, aware that intruders could still be inside. The room remained silent. She carefully checked her bath chamber. It was ransacked too, towels, brushes, soaps scattered everywhere.
Bristol returned to her room and stared at the chaos.
Complete and utter turmoil. And anger. This had been a vicious rampage.
Slashed pillows? Someone had wished her head had been lying on those pillows.
Why? But then she noticed one out-of-place detail that was neatly arranged.
And then it was all she could see. Her heart hammered in one continuous beat as she walked toward it.
Her sneakers sat alone on the middle of the breakfast table, perfectly aligned like shoes in a store window inviting you to notice them.
“No,” Bristol said, the word slipping off her tongue like a reflex. “No, no.”
She looked down at her sneakers. A note was tucked in one of them. Her hand trembled as she pulled it out.
You stole my life. You stole everything that ever mattered to me. Now I’m stealing yours from you. Don’t bother searching. It’s lying somewhere at the bottom of the sea. Blackmail has a price. Was it worth it?
Bristol couldn’t breathe. She grabbed her shoes, frantically ripping out the insoles, plunging her hands inside, searching for a cold metal disk.
There was nothing. Her fingers shook, skimming the insides again, and again.
Both sneakers were bare. Empty. Empty. Her knees gave way, and she fell to the floor.
A curdling scream tore from her throat. Her timemark was gone.
A servant heard the scream and found Bristol on the floor, inconsolable.
The urisk immediately summoned Tyghan. By the time he got to Bristol’s room, she was madly searching through piles of scattered clothes, stuffing her old tattered jeans into her backpack, her black tank top, then looking for something else.
He took in the mayhem. “What happened?”
Bristol paused her frantic search and slammed the crumpled note in her fist into his palm, then went back to searching.
Tyghan’s breath pooled in his chest as he read it.
He hadn’t seen the depth of Kasta’s rage—only his own when he discovered her handprint around Bristol’s neck.
He had offered her the mercy of leaving Danu and disappearing somewhere in the wilds, instead of being tried by the council.
He had escorted her to the palace gates himself, but it was a mercy he shouldn’t have given her.
He looked back at Bristol, caught in a feverish pursuit. “We’ll find it,” he said. “Somehow. We’ll search—”
Bristol whirled, fury overtaking her. “At the bottom of the sea? Which one, Tyghan? Where will you start? How many more years of my life will it rob? Stop!” she screamed. “Stop making promises you can’t keep!”
She picked up a trampled toothbrush and shoved it into her bag.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
“I’m getting out of here. I’m going home.”
He reached for her arm, and she yanked it away. “I’m angry, Tyghan, and I’m staying angry! Don’t try to change that!”
“I wasn’t. I’m just trying to make you slow down and think. You’re distraught.”
“I’m not distraught. I’m done. I can’t do this anymore.
My father’s dead. My mother’s dead. I made promises to her in her last breathing moments on this earth.
I promised her another chance. I made her believe in the dream.
I lured my mother to her own death. I can never forgive myself for that—or you.
I gave Elphame everything, and it gave me nothing.
And my sisters? I may never see them again.
But there is one promise to my mother I’m going to keep.
I’m going home! I’m suffocating here. My whole time in Elphame has been one long nightjump, and I’m not getting anywhere. ”
“Give it some time, Bri—”
“Time? There is no more time! I’ve lost time!
I’ve lost everything!” she said, furiously zipping her pack shut.
“I’m on my way to tell Julia I’m leaving.
She will take possession of the Cauldron of Plenty.
And then I’m riding Zandra to a far place to create a portal where no one will find it. A portal back to Bowskeep.”
She headed for the door, and he grabbed her wrist to stop her. “You can’t do this.”
Her gaze was cold steel. “You forget. I’m the queen of Elphame. I can do whatever I want.” She looked at his hand on her wrist. “Now let go of me. I need to go speak with my steward.”