Chapter 56
Blaze
‘Flint?!’
Silverclaw falls from my hand, landing with a soft thud at my feet. Then I’m running, launching myself into my brother’s arms, unable to tell whether I’m laughing or sobbing.
He catches me with a whoop and whirls me round. ‘There you are!’
‘Here I am,’ I mumble into his chest.
Waves rear and arc along the surface of the Creek, splashing on to the bank and soaking a disgruntled Cedar.
Flint chuckles. ‘Miss me?’
I draw back slightly, drinking him in, hardly daring to believe my eyes. ‘What’re you doing here? How did you find me? Where have you –’ That’s when I catch sight of his companions. ‘Spinner?’ I splutter. ‘Sheen?’
My chaperone blows me a kiss while Sheen nods stiffly.
I blink several times, bemused. Suddenly Flint turns rigid – his gaze is fixed on something over my shoulder. Or rather – someone.
I twist round to see Fox up in the tree, lounging across a thick branch.
‘Right on time,’ he calls.
Flint’s grip tightens protectively, but I wriggle free. ‘It’s all right. I can explain.’
Fox gets to his feet, walks the length of the branch, then drops lightly to the ground, landing at my side.
Flint’s expression darkens. I brace myself as a beaming Spinner comes bounding over.
Only it’s not me she throws her arms round.
Sheen is close on her heels, looking happier than I’ve ever seen him.
I don’t realize my mouth is hanging open until I see my expression mirrored in Flint’s, both of us speechless as we take in the scene.
Fox, Spinner and Sheen are locked in an embrace, all three of them grinning, talking fast and excitedly over one another.
I stare at them, unable to process what I’m seeing, then turn back to my brother, who tilts his head to the side, mystified.
After a minute or so, Flint clears his throat loudly and they break apart. Fox’s gaze finds mine. He smiles a little sheepishly as he claps Sheen on the back.
‘Care to explain?’ I prompt.
‘Ah,’ he says. ‘Did I forget to mention that these two are my best friends?’
‘What?’ Flint and I chorus.
Spinner giggles.
My mind races. ‘But … but I’ve never even seen the three of you have so much as a conversation before.
’ Then my eyes widen as I remember an altercation at the Golden Palace during Marina’s party.
‘You forced Spinner to give up her seat,’ I accuse Fox.
‘You were awful to her, and she called you an arrogant bastard.’
The two of them burst out laughing.
‘I meant it, too,’ says Spinner, elbowing him playfully in the ribs.
Fox smirks. ‘Think about it, Blaze. Think about who I am. The reputation I have. Now tell me, why would I want people knowing where my true loyalties lie?’
I frown as I dissect his words. He’s got a point, I suppose. Information like this could be used against him – or them. Not to mention that it would undermine the role he plays. All things considered, concealing his friendships actually makes a lot of sense.
‘How did this –’ Flint gestures in their general direction – ‘even happen?’
‘Well,’ Spinner begins, ‘when I was young, I was selected by Empress Goneril to be playmates with Hal.’
‘He told me about that,’ I interject. ‘He said that his friends were chosen for him – junior Eyes sent to report back on his every move.’
Spinner makes a face. ‘As the Castellion Heir, the prince was kept under close observation, even at so early an age,’ she admits. ‘Only as time went on I found I preferred his surly younger brother’s company.’ Her grimace melts swiftly back into a grin.
‘And you?’ Flint says, jerking his chin at Sheen. ‘How did you begin rubbing shoulders with the Earth Cleaver?’
Sheen makes no attempt to answer. I might be imagining it, but I could swear my brother’s face seems to flush under the gaze of those eerie violet eyes.
I break the silence, glaring at Fox. ‘I’m guessing it’s no coincidence that they were assigned to be our chaperones?’
‘None whatsoever,’ Fox agrees, entirely unabashed.
I fold my arms. ‘That’s no better than the empress asking Spinner to spy on Hal.’
Spinner looks wounded. ‘I wasn’t spying on you, Blaze. It wasn’t like that.’
‘My grandmother always told me never to trust an Eye,’ I say accusatorily.
‘I just made sure you were safe, that’s all,’ she wheedles. ‘And I may have occasionally passed along some gifts.’ She winks conspiratorially at Fox.
I shake my head, incredulous, recalling her words as I admired the dragonfly mask.
He must like you very much, you know.
Only now I realize she wasn’t referring to Hal. I try to scowl.
Flint is staring blankly at us all, as though we are speaking a different language. ‘Will someone please tell me what’s going on?’
‘Well,’ Flint says several hours later as I finish telling him everything. ‘That was unexpected.’
We’re sitting on a grassy verge, dangling our feet in the Creek.
‘It’s a lot to take in, I know.’
My brother huffs a laugh. ‘I’ll say. In truth, I’m not sure what I’m more shocked about – the fact that we’re part Mage or the reason why.’ He tuts, grinning. ‘Grandmother. My, my. Talk about skeletons in the closet. How deliciously scandalous.’
I roll my eyes.
‘It certainly explains a great deal,’ Flint continues. ‘You, mainly. What am I supposed to call you now, by the way? Om Shikara? Your Holiness? Goddess Divine?’
‘Oh, shut up,’ I say, splashing him.
‘Fine.’ He shakes his wet hair like a dog. ‘Then I’ll settle for Your Majesty.’
I feel my expression twist into a grimace.
I haven’t given the whole becoming-queen business a huge amount of thought of late.
I’ve felt so far removed from that future out here, and after weeks of freedom the image of the crown I hold in my head is beginning more and more to resemble that of an ornate golden shackle.
‘Enough about me,’ I say quickly. ‘What happened to you? Spinner mentioned something about bandits and forest nymphs?’
‘Put it this way,’ Flint says. ‘I for one will be glad to return to civilization. Won’t you?’
I glance down at my feet, letting a curtain of hair swing between us. ‘Mmm,’ I mumble unconvincingly.
‘Come on, don’t tell me you enjoy it out here in the wilderness,’ Flint scoffs.
‘It’s not so bad.’
That’s something of an understatement. These last few days with Fox have been so … peaceful. As though this place were a fortress and the rest of the world can’t touch us. Here, we don’t have to be the Storm Weaver and the Earth Cleaver. We can just be Blaze and Fox. We can just be.
Flint pulls my hair back to look at me. ‘This is about him, isn’t it?’
‘Who?’ I ask, feigning innocence.
‘Who d’you think?’ He purses his lips. ‘It’s not escaped my notice that the two of you seem to have got rather cosy of late.’
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’
‘Oh, give it up, Blaze. I can see the way you look at each other.’
‘What’s your problem?’ I demand.
‘My problem is him.’
I grind my teeth together. This is another inevitable downside of returning to reality. I knew that my … involvement with Fox was hardly going to be cause for celebration, but I thought I could prolong the onslaught of objections for at least a while longer.
‘He’s not good for you,’ Flint continues. ‘He’s not good, full stop.’
‘You don’t even know him.’
‘I know enough. In any case, isn’t he supposed to be in exile for – oh yes, that was it – murdering the Council?’
‘I already told you – what happened at the Binding Ceremony was an accident.’
‘Regardless, Hal’s hardly going to welcome him back with open arms.’
‘So I’ll talk to him, tell him the truth.’
‘And if he doesn’t listen?’
‘Then we’ll show him the truth using the Eye of the Past.’
‘Well, good luck with that. Though speaking of Eyes,’ Flint says, momentarily sidetracked, ‘do you still think you’ll find Syla’s at the Lagoon?’
I gnaw on my lip in consideration. I meant what I said to Fox, about losing hope of finding the Eye altogether. Yet my reasons for believing it could be at the Aquatori Court still stand – it was Queen Hydra’s home and it’s going to be mine.
For a moment all I can think about is that the queen never got to go home again.
As I will away the drizzle that threatens to fall overhead, I lean back on my elbows and watch the last rays of sunlight glinting off the water.
Queen Hydra told me once that she felt ill at ease in Cor Caval because her connection to the Lagoon was severed.
She was referring to the Creek, which flows through every province except the Imperial, given that it was cut off from the rest of Ostacre when Fox cleaved the empire in two.
It’s little wonder the Queen of the Waters disliked spending any great length of time in what was effectively a landlocked island.
I remember her words that day.
Know, child, that when you leave this place, no matter what path you might tread, so long as you follow the Creek, you will always find what you are looking for.
My body turns stock-still.
‘Blaze?’ Flint prods my shoulder. ‘What is it?’
The blood has rushed to my face. I sit bolt upright. It was Queen Hydra herself who taught me about portals and their different uses.
One can use a portal to send an object to a destination, but also have it remain there, hidden … accessible only to someone who knows exactly where to find it.
This whole time I’ve been so busy picturing the Eye at the Lagoon, or nestled at the top of a cliff in Brava, that I never once stopped to consider that it wasn’t somewhere to be discovered, but revealed. That it wasn’t lost, but concealed.
I think back to the night I was called to the Keep. The Eye hadn’t just been sitting at the bottom of the training pool for decades. I found it because I knew it was there – the same way I pulled that silver teacup from the portal in Queen Hydra’s chambers.
At the Binding Ceremony I was trying to get the Eye away from King Balen. But what better way to ensure that it would be out of his reach than to hide it somewhere only I could find it?
Queen Hydra’s words have a way of sticking in my head, influencing my subconscious.
So long as you follow the Creek, you will always find what you are looking for.
The Creek has kept us company this past while, guiding us from province to province. I have drunk from it, bathed in it. But I never, not for one moment, imagined that it was the key to everything – the destination, the hiding place, the portal.
‘No,’ I breathe.
‘What’re you doing?’ Flint asks as I roll up my sleeve and plunge my arm into the water.
I say nothing, not trusting myself to speak. The Creek is cool and clear, and I let it claim me, praying that I’m right.
Please. Please.
I squeeze my eyes tight shut, concentrating hard, heart hammering against my chest. A painful moment drags by, all hope hanging precariously in the balance.
Then I see it – a glint of gold beneath the surface. Seconds later my fingers close round something small and cold and unequivocally familiar.
Slowly, I retrieve my hand.
There, sitting on my palm, is the Eye of the Soul.