Chapter 59 Valenna
Chapter fifty-nine
Valenna
Evander could not be gone. It was impossible.
No, any moment, he would walk into the lean-to, beaming with victory and awaken her from this suffocating nightmare.
He would kiss her, they would embrace, and she would be folded, safe and warm, against his chest. She would lie her head down and listen to the steady thrum of his heartbeat.
After all, he promised he would wear his magical shirt, so he couldn’t have been killed. Why would he take it off, knowing the danger?
But Evander never came.
Valenna’s mind foundered in murky grief and anxiety.
What if Marwenna didn’t—or worse, couldn’t—revive him? What if she did, and she tortured him to madness, and he spent his days cursing Valenna for betraying her promise? Either way, how would she find him again?
Huddled in the lean-to the Cobblepinions had hastily built for her, the questions blurred together into a cacophony of panicked noise. Valenna clamped her hands over her ears and touched her forehead to her knees.
Evander was gone, and there was no air in this place. Her lungs were folding up like shutters.
As the sun rose over Talwaith, Valenna found herself on the ground. The bed was covered in flowering vines, the floor a carpet of moss, and Valenna lay in the center of it all, her hair tangled in leaves and her body dressed in belladonna and bindweed. Mushrooms encircled her head like a halo.
Samara entered. Her nose was red and swollen. Valenna remained where she lay, the effort of sitting up too much to entertain.
Samara didn’t say a word as she laid a folded shirt on the ground.
“It saved my life,” she said. “He saved my life. He was the best captain we could have asked for. We didn’t deserve him.”
Valenna reached out and brushed the fabric with her fingers. Evander’s shirt. The one he promised he’d wear and, if he had, he would be here with her now, alive and well.
“So you are why he wasn’t wearing it?” she asked softly.
“I begged him to keep it,” Samara choked. “But he insisted. I thought he would be alright.”
Valenna stroked the fabric, her eyelids fluttering. The enchantment tickled her fingertips like static electricity. Suddenly, she couldn’t stand the sight of Samara. Afraid she might do something violent, she said, “Get out.”
But Samara didn’t leave. She stood in the entrance, shifting her weight from foot to foot.
“There’s something else,” she said. “There is someone here to see you. She says she’s your sister.”
Valenna’s mind tottered. Nothing made sense.
Before Valenna could understand, someone entered behind Samara, and Valenna’s jaw went slack.
Standing before her, dressed in a faded leather coat and mud-spattered boots, was Olivette. Her half-sister.
Olivette looked different—much older than Valenna remembered her. Her white-blonde hair was short and streaked with cobalt. She gazed at Valenna with a somber expression.
“Vetta?” Valenna breathed.
“Valeria, what are you doing here?”
“What are you doing here?” Valenna cried. “Where were you during the battle?”
“Oh, well, since Father wouldn’t have me back, I decided I would wait and see how it all turned out. I am the heir to the throne now, of course. But what is all of this? Did you find your spring magic, after all?”
Valenna pushed herself up. “I was in the battle.”
“Yes, I heard. Now, come and welcome your sister home.” Olivette crouched on her knees and wrapped Valenna in her muscular arms. She was a large woman with broad shoulders and bulging biceps. Valenna had forgotten how comforting it was to be swallowed up in her sister’s rare embraces.
“Valeria, I have been searching for you for years.”
“No, no,” Valenna said, releasing Olivette and wiping her eyes. “I have been searching for you.”
“I tracked you to Largotia,” Olivette continued, “but you slipped away. They said you went to Silvanlight, but when I reached there, you were already gone.”
“When were you in Largotia?”
“Only a few weeks ago. I pretended to be the emissary from Sennalaith, bringing Cadmus’s order to the dracorium there, but you left before I could speak to you.”
Valenna started back. “That was you? I ran from Largotia because … because I was afraid to speak to the emissary. It was you all along?”
Valenna’s mind spun. If she hadn’t climbed out the window, or if she had missed the carriage, she never would have gone to Silvanlight. She never would have encountered Evander, fallen in love with him again, chased him into the Whyspenware.
If Olivette had caught her in Largotia, Evander would be alive.
Valenna covered her face with her hands and sobbed. Yarrow sprouted from wall to wall.
“Valeria, what is it?” Olivette asked, grasping Valenna’s elbows.
How could she ever explain? She didn’t have the energy. She didn’t have the words.
“I can’t … I can’t …” Valenna took a deep breath and tried to gather her courage.
“Tell me you’re not weeping over our father,” Olivette said with a hint of spite.
Valenna drew back. “What?”
“Did you not know?”
“Know what?”
“Valeria, our father was killed in the battle.”
Valenna didn’t feel a thing. Not grief, not relief, not anger at being deprived of the chance to kill him herself. She was hollow as a dead tree.
“Did Hera—the hydra—did she kill him?” she asked.
“No.” Olivette looked perplexed. “No, we don’t know who killed him.”
But Valenna knew. Evander had wreaked his own retribution on her father.
It was like him to tell her to let go of her own need for revenge and then quietly carry it out himself.
And then a wave of sickness washed over her.
If Evander killed Cadmus, then that meant that Cadmus thrust the sword into Evander’s chest.
She doubled over, swallowing bile.
“What?” Olivette demanded, sounding panicked. “What is it?”
“I’m sorry,” she panted. “I was married a few weeks ago to a trainer from Silvanlight.”
“Oh … So what’s wrong?”
“He was killed in the battle.”
Olivette looked shocked, then her face softened. “Oh, Valeria … I’m so sorry.”
“You won’t be when I tell you the truth.”
Olivette raised her curved, blonde eyebrows. “Alright. Tell me.”
The ground rustled, and a wild rose snaked over Valenna’s knees. She wrenched it up by its roots and cast it aside. “I was married to Evandaine. Marwenna’s son.”
Olivette’s expression froze. “Was it a political marriage?”
Valenna shook her head. “We met and fell in love before we knew. By the time we found out, it was too late. I couldn’t stop myself from loving him. He was a wonderful, gentle man … and it’s my fault he was killed. I might as well have killed him myself.”
“No, no.” Olivette reached out and gripped Valenna’s shoulder.
The warrior in Valenna rose to the bracing gesture.
“It was Cadmus’s fault. If he died in this battle, then our father killed your husband.
I’m only angry I didn’t get a chance to take his throne before his face and then hand you the sword to strike him down. ”
Valenna shrank at this. She couldn’t be consumed by hate again. She owed Evander that much. He had died to win Talwaith for her, and she wouldn’t let it sink into waste.
Valenna stared at Evander’s shirt, unearthing memories so painful she wished she could drink some sleeping draught and make it all go black. “Will you take the throne?” she asked at length.
“Of course,” Olivette said. “Of both Sennalaith and Talwaith. I have soldiers securing the border now, and I intend to travel to Stratus tomorrow. You must come with me, of course.”
“I can’t, Vetta. I can’t even think.”
“You’ve done your part here in Talwaith. Spring is restored, and you have a year before you’re needed again. Come home with me, stand by my side as I take the throne, and grieve in comfort and privacy.”
“Tomorrow, maybe,” Valenna said. “Right now, I need to be alone. I need to think.”
“Alright. Try to sleep, if you can.” Olivette stood.
“I’m so glad that you’re here, that you’re taking the throne,” Valenna said, catching her sister’s hand before she could go. “I’m sorry I couldn’t give you the welcome you deserve.”
Olivette nodded grimly. “And I’m sorry you’re facing this terrible loss.”
She squeezed Valenna’s hand and left. Outside, screams echoed from a still-intact carriage house, which had been converted into a temporary field hospital.
Valenna glanced through the lean-to opening and glimpsed the Dread Seven aft-razer stumble out of the hospital, bury her face in Ryland Everette’s shoulder, and sob, “It should have been me. It was supposed to be me!”
Somehow, seeing the girl weeping filled Valenna with shame. It did nothing to diminish her pain, but she realized that she could not lie here forever. Eventually, she must clean her cheeks, remove her blood-stiffened clothes, and face her new reality. Not yet, but soon.
The day collapsed into night. Miraculously, Valenna fell into a restless sleep, plagued by wonderful dreams that Evander was alive, sleeping beside her where he belonged.
She awoke over and over, alone and shivering in the dark.
The sun rose to find her bathed in sweat, dry eyes staring absently at the roof.
A commotion rose in the camp outside. Valenna’s heart hammered in her chest, and she scrambled up, certain Ashkendor was retaliating.
But they weren’t cries of terror, but shouts of victory.
Bewildered, Valenna crept toward the entrance, but before she reached it, Samara stumbled into the lean-to, her cheeks pink. Olivette followed.
“Valenna,” Samara stammered. “I’m so sorry. I don’t want to bother you, but …”
“Look at you, poor child,” Olivette said. “Let me wash your face.”
“What’s happening?” Valenna demanded. “What’s going on out in the camp?”
“The dragons …” Samara said. “There are dragons … everywhere.”
Valenna blinked at her. “I don’t understand.”
“Talwaith is verdant again,” Olivette said matter-of-factly. “So the dragons are coming home to roost.”
With her hair tangled in her face and her eyes still smudged with dark powder, Valenna pushed past Samara and Olivette and blundered out of the lean-to.
Her feet touched cool grass; trees shaded her from the sun.
She hadn’t realized how drastic Scathmore Barren’s transformation was.
As she passed through the manor house, she could hardly believe the battle wasn’t decades past. Ivy climbed over the ruins, covering the sooty walls like a woman caught bathing; discarded shotfires and cutlasses lay tangled in wisteria.
Men and women trudged in the dappled light, carrying stretchers.
Bloodied soldiers moaned or lay still under grimy sheets.
Ryland Everette crouched outside the field hospital, sobbing quietly into his hands, then he suddenly stood, braced his palms against the wall, and let out a scream of rage.
Startled, Valenna looked away and hurried toward the distant whisper of waves on the beach.
Overhead, the air filled with bellows, squeaks, chitters, and grumbles.
Dragons soared over the trees, landing in branches and on the sandy shore in a storm of rustling wings.
They glistened in the sunlight, every size and color, from lithe little fighter dragons to giant, fleshy newt dragons, to hulking dreadnoughts.
They ignored the humans watching them from the forest’s edge and spread their wings, warming them, or stalked off in search of grass.
Evander would have loved to see this. His face would have lit up; he would have smiled. Oh, how Valenna wished she could have shared this triumph with him. Without him, it was a hollow victory.
Valenna lifted her chin. Enough grieving. She wasn’t one to lie about and wait for things to happen. What was the point of sending him away with Raska if she was going to behave as though he really was dead?
Because Evander wasn’t dead. She refused to believe it. She would never accept it. His mother would revive him, and Valenna, now the owner of all the dragons, was going to get him back. Whatever it required of her, whatever the sacrifice.
“The dragons have come home to roost,” Olivette said as she stood beside Valenna. “Talwaith is restored. And we have an army.”
“And we have a queen to lead it,” Valenna said.
“But we have no dragon master,” Samara mused. “Who will care for them? Who will train them?”
Valenna gazed at the jewel-bright dragons flocking over the sea, then she squared her shoulders and turned toward Samara and Olivette.
“There is only one man who can be our dragon master,” she said. “We just need to bring him home.”