Chapter 61
Elva
They arrived as dawn broke, appearing out of thin air in the Council Chambers.
Spinner, Flint, his sullen-looking chaperone and the Earth Cleaver, who wore a slightly tortured expression and held a small copper-coloured creature in his arms.
Hal, who’d fallen asleep with his head on a stack of papers, woke with a start and almost toppled from his chair. He was on his feet in an instant, his gaze locked on his half-brother, a beam of light materializing in his palm.
Fox made no effort to defend himself, but to my surprise the two Eyes positioned themselves protectively on either side of him.
Flint, who was too busy staring open-mouthed between Hal and me, blinked hard, then carefully manoeuvred himself between both parties. ‘Well,’ he said genially, ‘I think several explanations are in order, don’t you?’
Countless conversations ensued, each one more astonishing than the last. I could hardly believe what I was hearing – about Rain Singers and Demari, Magi sisters and enchanted talismans, the truth about the Rift and the storm and the Binding Ceremony and …
Blaze. I understand now why Caius Castellion called her the key.
Flint’s jaw almost hit the floor when Hal told them how I became his spy, about the break-out from the dungeons, his grandfather’s return, the attempt on his life and the liberation of the serfs, and, finally, about the curse.
For hours he barely looked at his brother, until Fox calmly suggested they speak alone, and the rest of us filed out.
‘We haven’t been formally introduced,’ said Blaze’s twin, extending a hand. ‘Flint Harglade – reformed playboy, Ignitia runner-up, and newly discovered Demari.’
‘Elva,’ I mumbled.
‘The Shadow Mage.’ He nodded thoughtfully. ‘Now I guess you know why.’
‘Where is she?’ I asked.
Flint grimaced slightly. ‘Blaze just … needs some time.’
This did not surprise me. I imagine the discovery that you’re the embodiment of power itself would take some getting used to.
Hal and Fox didn’t reappear until dusk. This was no loving reconciliation, but a tentative truce.
An old alliance made new again. Fox watched me step out of the shadows and shot me a rather half-hearted wink.
The next morning Hal revoked his brother’s banishment and pardoned him before the court.
The news was met by gasps and whispers, and even cries of protest, yet all fell silent when Hal made his second announcement: those who still felt any kind of allegiance to King Balen should know that, thanks to the Storm Weaver, we now possessed a weapon powerful enough to match whatever army he might raise to usurp the throne.
Whispered speculation followed, with courtiers trading rumours like currency.
When Blaze showed up several days later, emerging suddenly from a portal in the centre of the banquet hall, many screamed in fright and backed away, staring at her with a mixture of terror and curiosity.
Her grey eyes were dull, her clothes tattered and ill-fitting.
She did not look like a future queen, much less any kind of God.
She looked haunted, tense, uncomfortable in her own skin, as if all too aware of the power running through her veins.
Fox tried to follow her, but Spinner caught his arm. I couldn’t help but wonder what might’ve happened between them.
The Earth Cleaver is almost unrecognizable.
I’m still a little scared of him – that deep-rooted arrogance is hard to shake, but he also seems more real somehow.
Less of a myth and more of a boy. There’s a gentleness to him.
I see it when he hands Hal a fresh vial of painkiller, or when he speaks to me in Obsidian.
He even paid a visit to the medical wing, waving the flock of physicians aside so he could examine Ingra.
After she’d hurled some very choice words in his direction, and only after he managed to convince her that he was not and never had been the Prince of Slavers, she let him tend to her injuries, biting down hard on a strip of leather as he realigned her finger bones.
As for me, I’ve barely left Hal’s side. While our involvement – and my magic – remains a secret to all but a few, I am now officially an Eye of the Imperial Court and a personal spy to the emperor.
I’ve been given my own quarters, a silvery thoroughbred and more gowns than I can count.
The one I’m wearing now is the same one I wore to the masquerade ball – swathes of glittering gold silk.
Elaith insisted on dusting some shimmering powder across my eyelids and along my cheekbones, and my hair swings in a buttery curtain down to my waist. She said it was important I look my best.
It is coronation day, after all.
The palace is filled with flowers and swarming with guests.
Hundreds of guards line the corridors and are stationed throughout the grounds, just in case King Balen decides to make an appearance.
Yet Hal believes his uncle wouldn’t be stupid enough to attack, not now he suspects that we have all three of the enchanted Eyes.
I notice Spinner as soon as I enter the throne room – she’s engaged in a one-sided conversation with Sheen.
It was all I could do not to throw my arms round her when she volunteered to lead the search for my sister.
My heart swells at the thought of being reunited with Astrid, then it lurches as my gaze falls on Caius Castellion.
He’s talking quietly with River, the Aquatori trainer, who I now know to be Blaze’s real grandfather.
Next to them, leaning heavily on her cane, is Lady Harglade, her brow creased with sorrow.
Blaze still refuses to speak to her. She will see no one apart from her brothers.
Standing stiffly beside Blaze’s grandmother is a man I don’t recognize. He’s tall and broad-shouldered, with dark auburn hair and brown eyes. I imagine he was handsome once, but now his face is weary-looking and engraved with deep lines. I wonder who he could be.
Elaith nudges me in the side. ‘Look!’
I turn to watch the new Supreme Mother of the Valla Jakartis sweep into the room.
She’s younger than her predecessor, who died at King Balen’s hand, yet she sports the same long robes that trail behind her like a wedding gown.
As head of the ancient sisterhood of Etheri who preside over various rites and rituals, she’s here to oversee the coronation, since for the first time in history there will be no Binding Ceremony.
Given that Blaze has yet to discover a means of breaking the curse, Fox feared what might happen if she were to bind her power to Hal’s. He said the force of it could kill him.
A hush falls as Hal appears in the doorframe.
Though still pale and drawn, he’s no longer utterly bowed under the crippling weight of despair, and this newfound hopefulness, along with Fox’s tinctures, seems to be allowing him to function – for now at least. He wears the same ceremonial cloak he wore for Ingra’s execution, yet as he walks through the crowd my gaze falls on the hem, where some embellishments have been made.
Stitched among the tiny golden suns are a number of silver crescent moons.
My heart swells. He catches my eye as he passes and his mouth curves briefly into a small, secret smile.
I watch him make his way towards the dais, where five thrones await.
Zephyr is next to appear, dressed in a thick cloak the colour of sea-smoke. Since King Balen still occupies the Windlands, Hal has offered his friend – and all loyal members of the Ventalla Court – the east wing of the Golden Palace for the time being.
He is followed by Ember, wearing a rust-orange gown and a smirk. A muscle twitches in Sheen’s jaw as she skips smugly up to the dais.
A collective gasp ripples through the onlookers as the fourth member of the Council strides casually into the throne room – an official pardon was not all Hal granted his brother.
Even in a fine green-velvet doublet, leather trousers and shiny new riding boots, the Earth Cleaver still manages to look unkempt.
He chews lazily on something as he mounts the steps two at a time, the Eye of the Past gleaming gold round his neck.
The crowd seems to be holding their breath.
Fox doesn’t so much as glance at them. His gaze is fixed on the door while he absent-mindedly twists his signet rings, waiting.
The whole palace is waiting.
Waiting for her.