Chapter 18
Aiden
I stared at the Teacher, unsure if I’d heard him correctly. “They took all the fireseeds? Nothing else?”
Silas shook his head. Nikella, however, looked disappointed, but unsurprised.
“You knew,” I told her.
“I guessed. From what Renwell said to me.”
My eyebrows shot up. “You spoke with him? Did he harm you?”
“Of course not,” she said sharply. “It was I who wounded him.”
His bleeding side.
“You may have saved my life by weakening him,” I murmured.
“I was aiming for his heart,” Nikella snapped, as if I shouldn’t be grateful.
I narrowed my eyes at her. Something else had happened, but she wouldn’t like me prying in front of a stranger. Even if he was a Teacher.
“What does he need with a mountain’s worth of fireseeds?” I wondered aloud.
Neither of them answered me.
Soon Silas moved on to help a few crying children—undoubtedly, he was excellent at telling them stories.
Nikella stood to leave, but I caught her wrist. “What did he say to you?”
She pulled out of my grasp and leaned against the somewhat whole house we’d sheltered by.
“He bragged about all he’s done,” she said. “Claimed to have the power of the gods themselves with his fireseeds and sunstone. That he could rule the whole world if he wanted to.”
I frowned. That seemed rather grandiose for a man who’d just stepped out of the shadows to take over one throne.
Nikella fixed her dark stare on me, the way she always did when she was about to tell me something I didn’t want to hear. “He also warned me. In a way. He’s sending Korvin to hunt us down.”
Unease rippled over my skin. I didn’t bother asking her if she was certain. Nikella would never bring up her oldest brother’s name unless it was absolutely vital.
“I’m sorry, Nikella,” I said softly.
I’d give my life to save her from him, but I knew that wasn’t what she wanted. She’d taught me how to face my monsters since they were mere shadows in my childhood nightmares. She expected nothing less of herself.
“It changes nothing. Only that we must never drop our guard. I will deal with Korvin when it’s time.”
Renwell. Korvin. The Wolves. Our list of enemies continued to grow. Where did it end?
I grimaced and shifted my feet to the ground. Gingerly putting weight on my leg, I stood next to Nikella as she gazed into a small fire that was still stubbornly burning amid the rubble.
“I keep telling myself one more death,” I said softly. “Just one more death and it’ll all be over. I told myself that with Weylin and now with Renwell. But it’s never true.”
“Of course not. There will always be another enemy to defeat. But you could at least prevent more powerful enemies from controlling Rellmira.”
I frowned. I’d been fighting for a better Rellmira since I could carry a sword. Nothing I’d done seemed to make a difference. By trying to eliminate Rellmira’s most powerful enemies, I’d only caused more innocent deaths.
“How?” I asked.
“As king,” she said, as if it were the most obvious answer.
I sighed. “We’ve been over this, Nikella. I—”
“Don’t want to be king. I know. But I swore to your mother—”
“She’s dead. My father, too. And no one needs their son to take the crown.”
Nikella faced me and cupped my cheek in her hand as if I were still a young boy.
“Your birthright is your obligation to Rellmira. Who you are, Aiden Falcryn, the man who protects others and fights for justice—that is why you need to be king. The more you hide, the more it allows men like Weylin and Renwell to step in and destroy everything.”
I flinched away from her touch. “You’ve taught me to hide who I am since I was old enough to understand.”
Her eyes hardened. “To protect you until it was time. It’s time, Aiden.”
A familiar fear wriggled loose in my chest, something that had grown and festered while I was a prisoner in the mine. Each of my failures since the Pravaran rebellion had only multiplied that fear like worms in fertile soil.
“I don’t deserve that kind of power,” I whispered, my jaw tight.
“Power isn’t inherently good or evil. It only becomes so in the hands of who wields it. Your heart is good, Aiden. Don’t squander it by locking it in a cage.”
No good has ever come from sharing my heart, either. Even when a certain beautiful thief steals the key.
“I saw Kiera head west out of the village just before you found me,” I said, my voice tight. “Her face was still bloody, which means the wound on her back is likely the same. Take care of her, would you?”
Nikella pursed her lips. “Why don’t you?”
I shrugged, already walking away. “Like I said, I know when I’m not wanted.”
Perhaps it’d been petty, but I’d been too gods-damned tired to disguise the edge of hurt in my voice.
But Kiera had come to me later that night. Slept by my side. So perhaps I wasn’t the only one with contrary feelings.
After two more mind-numbing trips up the base of the mountain, we ferried the mourners across. They filled the stone steps, a safe distance from the glowing fireflowers.
Kiera came with them, her hair re-braided and her face clean apart from the paste on her cheek. Her amber eyes glowed golden in the setting sun. She hugged Maz and gripped Yarina’s hand. Whether to ease the weight off Yarina’s injured foot or because she needed the support, I couldn’t say.
Sigrid flanked Maz, dark circles under her eyes. I stood on Kiera’s other side. She darted a glance up at me. Her mouth seemed to soften for a moment, but then she faced forward again.
Either someone had told her what to expect or she was too exhausted to question the strangeness of seeing shrouded bodies lying amid the fireflowers.
There were no drums this time. No mead. No party would follow. Most of these souls had been lost in a massacre, not a battle between warriors. It was murder. There was no honor to celebrate in that.
Yarina swayed a little, like the fireflowers that bowed over Davka’s body. Maz looked paler than I’d ever seen him. Even after Korvin. Sigrid’s hands were clenched into fists.
Jek, Nikella, Vorkahn, and most of our war party lined the steps below them. The Berengar woman whose bow I’d used to shoot Renwell, and her warriors, stood on the steps below.
What was left of the Urzost villagers and their warriors huddled on the steps above me, their eyes glassy. A woman about Nikella’s age stepped into the snow by a small body and sang the funeral song.
Her body trembled with anguish, and her voice sagged with unshed tears and buried cries, yet still she sang on.
I opened my mouth and added my voice to hers, comforting her the only way I could think.
You’re not alone, I tried to say beneath my words. You’re not alone.
More voices joined in. Including one right next to me. I tore my gaze away from the bodies to stare at Kiera. She fumbled a few of the words, but she kept singing with me.
A kernel of warmth wedged itself in my chest. It stayed there as the last rays of sun disappeared from the valley, along with the final notes of our song.
We waited in hushed silence. Then, one by one, the fireflowers burst into flame. They caught the shrouded bodies on fire, and within moments, the entire mountainside burned.
Usually, only dead Teachers were allowed to burn with the fireflowers, but Nikella had agreed to an exception. She stood with Silas higher on the steps, their long hoods shadowing their faces.
Thank the Four that Renwell hadn’t destroyed the flowers when he stole the fireseeds. He must’ve known when the harvest would be complete and timed his attack perfectly.
The fireflowers would grow back and produce more seeds next year. If they’d been plucked, they would be dead forever. Hence, why the god Arduen had named Teachers as the gatherers—to prevent destruction.
But Renwell had stolen them all. Many Dags would go without the ease and warmth of the long-lasting fires that the small seeds provided. Not to mention the money they earned by selling off a portion.
Was that what Renwell wanted? To drive up the price? It was what Weylin would’ve done. Or perhaps he’d wanted to destroy as many Dags as he could—announce his newfound power to the world.
Whatever his plans, a man who murdered innocent villagers and Teachers should never be king.
The fireflower blaze melted the snow, which ran down the mountain like gushing tears.
But my eye caught on something else that gleamed in the light. A black gauntlet encircled Yarina’s wrist like a stretch of night sky. Sunstone. She must’ve taken it from one of the dead Wolves.
We’d noticed a fair bit of sunstone armor, along with their usual weapons, when we’d stacked their bodies away from the others. We had yet to decide what to do with it all.
But now my brain pieced together the information it’d been too tired to understand last night.
Renwell had built warships. He’d added more men to his army. Those men had an increasing amount of sunstone armor and weapons. He mentioned having the power of the gods and using it to take whatever he wanted.
Long ago, Nikella had told me that Korvin created the sunstone knives by melding the chunks of raw stone over a fire fed by the god-given seeds.
“Renwell is preparing for war,” I breathed.
Kiera shifted closer to me. “War?”
I gazed down at her, the realization galloping through my mind. “That’s why he stole all the fireseeds. He’s building a sunstone-clad army. Rellmira isn’t enough for him. He wants Lancora.”
Kiera’s eyes widened, but I saw the same threads weave together for her as they had for me.
“What are you whispering about?” Yarina griped, craning her tear-stained face to look at both of us. “War for Lancora?”
While Kiera relayed what I’d said to Yarina, and then Maz, who poked his head into our huddle, my mind raced with possibilities.
Who would he attack first? Obviously, he’d already attacked the Dags. But was that just to steal the fireseeds, or was it also to weaken them for further invasion? Perhaps that was why he’d left the fireflowers alive. He was going to come back when they bloomed again.
If he were to attack the Elorens, he would need many more ships and a damn good reason. They were sailing experts and controlled much of Lancora’s trade.
He could target Keldiket since it boasted the wealthiest cities. Unless the famine Silas had mentioned had lowered their worth—or provided the perfect opportunity for invasion.
We’d already seen what one of his warships was capable of. Gods help the rest of Lancora if he built a fleet and aimed it at bigger cities.
Maz gripped my shoulder, his eyes fierce in the flickering light. “Let’s ride to Aquinon and finish killing the bastard before he can strike again.”
Yarina and Sigrid nodded. Kiera bit her lip, her eyes fixed on the burning bodies.
Remembering what I’d said to Nikella about one more death not being enough, I shook my head. “We’ve tried assassination. It doesn’t work, and it’d take weeks, if not months, of preparation. Renwell probably has Aquinon locked up tight, expecting something like that.”
Maz scowled.
“I could go,” Kiera said quietly. “He wants me to come to him. I could—”
Red seared across my vision. “Give him exactly what he wants? Let him manipulate you into being his little soldier again? Over my gods-damned body.”
Kiera jerked back, a look of shock and hurt crossing her face before her jaw clenched. She whipped around and hurried down the stone steps, weaving around mourners.
My rage departed as swiftly as it’d appeared. But it wasn’t a lie. I knew the devastation that snake could wreak. As did she. So why was she volunteering to run back into his arms?
“Gods, you’re an ass.” Yarina folded her arms and turned back to the funeral pyres.
I gritted my teeth. Not too long ago, Yarina wanted to kill Kiera for her betrayal. Now she defended her.
I met Maz’s gaze over her head. He said nothing. Just jerked his head to where Kiera was disappearing down the mountain.
I frowned. I strongly doubted that Kiera wanted me to follow her. But I needed to get off this scorched mountain. The other mourners were staring at me with narrowed eyes and tight lips.
I needed somewhere I could fucking think.
As I stalked past Sigrid, she grabbed my arm. Her one eye burned with hatred, but not for me. “Wherever the battle is, we will be there, too. All of us.”
I dipped my head, and she released me. I descended the mountain and came to a stop where the boats were waiting. A lone figure that haunted me awake and asleep stood in front of them, her back to me.
Bitterness still coated my insides like ash.
“Don’t want to row, princess?” I couldn’t resist jabbing at her. Perhaps because I’d rather see her angry than hurt.
I got my wish.
Her body stiffened, and she shot a glare at me over her shoulder like an arrow. “I didn’t want to strand the others without a boat.”
I hummed. “There’s more than one way across a river.”
She scowled at me as I backed away from her. When the shadows folded around me, I turned and strode upriver and out of sight.
I needed a bath, after all.
I stripped off my dirty clothes and gathered them up with my boots. The rocky beach didn’t pierce my bare feet, but the cold water would likely be excruciating. Perfect.
Chills rippled over my skin as I let the river lap at my feet. Arduen’s River was wide but shallow here. The current wasn’t as strong either, from what I remembered.
The wind blew softly, carrying not the scent of smoke, but of snowy pine. I filled my lungs with it. Yes, this was exactly what I needed.
Footsteps crunched behind me.
“Oh gods, are you naked?”