Chapter 1 #2
One by one, the Issen make their way towards the steps, but before I follow Fen and Ruben, I shift towards Caz.
‘So?’ I ask her.
She doesn’t need any more prompting than that. Her ability to know whether people are speaking the truth or not is invaluable at all times, but especially in enemy territory.
She presses her lips together. ‘They certainly believe you’re royalty,’ she confirms. ‘Everyone who spoke believed the words they said, including the one who promised the safety of the steps.’
Well, that’s something.
‘It was the ring,’ Benny adds in a quiet murmur, as he steps closer to us. ‘Every one of them looked at it at some point. The dagger too, though not everyone paid as much attention to the weapon.’
The ring and the dagger. Both belonged to my mother, whom I now know was Issen. But if she was royalty, why the hell would she have been dumped in a temple in Wrohelm, where any number of dark fates could have awaited her?
It’s only by chance that she, a skilled healer, met and married my father and began the next chapter of her life in the High Hold.
Why would any parent risk a life of uncertainty for their daughter, sending her away from this life of safety on the other side of the mountain? It doesn’t make any sense.
Issen I may be, but royalty I’m surely not. They must be mistaken.
I begin the careful descent down the ice steps, which are oddly not slippery at all, and with more than enough room to walk two abreast, maybe even three.
The steps’ surface feels more like rock than ice under our thick-soled boots, but their transparency, allowing us to see the sharp drop below us, makes it far from relaxing.
To distract myself, I call out to the Issen in front of Ruben and Fen.
‘Excuse me?’
The broad-shouldered man slows his step and looks back at me. His white hair is tied in a bun atop his head, his face clean-shaven and sharp, all the better to let his lace patterns show.
‘Yes, Your Highness?’
Great Gods, I will never get used to that. But then, I likely won’t need to. The title is an error, one that will surely be ripped away from me like my powers once were.
‘This city,’ I begin. ‘What is it called?’
‘It’s called Isthyr,’ he replies, chest puffing out as pride warms his voice.
‘Isthyr.’ I repeat the word slowly.
‘Yes, Your Highness. Exactly so.’
I smile softly. ‘Thank you… Sorry, what’s your name?’
His pale skin colours ever so slightly as he dips his head. ‘Toren, Your Highness.’
‘Thank you, Toren. My name is Rose. Please, just call me Rose.’
He flashes me a brief smile before turning back and continuing his descent.
With each step I find my eyes drawn out to the horizon.
The thick mist has shifted already, exposing yet more of the landscape below – the wide roads, the open spaces, and buildings enough to house hundreds of thousands.
And beyond that, the view to the north appears to stretch to the end of the world. It’s mesmerising.
Zelle really didn’t know of this place? I ask Fen dubiously. This city. Isthyr. You had no idea it existed?
None, Little Raven. You have my word.
And Elska? Did she know about it? There’s a tension in my tone and I can feel straight away that Fen knows my question is a facade for the real question I haven’t asked. It’s not Elska’s knowledge I care about – it’s Kyor’s, her bonded.
The prince and my mate knew no more than I, he assures me. This place is … unfathomable.
Unfathomable. That’s one way of putting it.
I’ve spent my entire life believing that the Issen were brutish philistines – ruthless warriors who would kill us on sight.
And my powers that I’ve received from them – the ability to draw a blade from thin air and stab it through the heart of another Rettling, not to mention the way I almost killed Jonas by stealing the air from his lungs – have surely confirmed this.
Yet we’ve been met with nothing but reverence, even being personally guided down the mountainside towards the most beautiful city I have ever seen. My mind throbs with the dissonance of it all. This is nothing like I was braced for.
Though it’s entirely possible that this is nothing more than a ruse to make us lower our guard, so that Magnus and his men may slaughter us with ease. In some ways, it’s easier to believe that.
The heat of breath against my ear tells me the prince is now directly behind me.
‘You doing okay, Thorn?’
It’s ridiculous how comforted I feel having him this close.
I’d like to reach behind and squeeze his hand or merely turn to look at him.
But I don’t, and not just because I’m focused on keeping one hand against the rock face in case of a slip, regardless of how steady these steps feel.
Right now, the less the Issen know about my travelling companions – especially Kyor – the safer we’ll all be.
So, without looking back, I consider his question.
‘Am I okay?’ A light laugh cracks in my chest before I lower my voice to a murmur.
‘Okay with the fact we’re being guided to an unknown city by a group of Issen warriors?
Or that we’re making our way down a cliff face where any one of us could easily plunge to their death?
Or that they seem to believe I’m Issen royalty? ’
‘All of the above?’ He huffs a laugh, and I know he’s trying to make me smile, but that’s not something I can dredge up right now.
‘Not really,’ I tell him. ‘But at least it looks like I’ll get some answers. Though something tells me they’re not going to be what we expected.’