Chapter 48
Little Raven, what do you need from me?
Find Kyor, I bark back as I sprint around the building.
Two guards stand outside the door.
‘Princess.’ They bend their knees ever so slightly as they see me approach, but I make no attempt to slow my pace, and they open the door for me so that I don’t have to so much as break my stride.
‘Rose.’ Magnus smiles as he sees me. ‘Welcome. You have come to see our trade. I am pleased.’
‘I’m not here for that.’ I spin to face Aulia. ‘The Great War. What is it?’
Her eyes widen before her face pales.
‘You,’ she whispers. ‘It’s you.’
‘The Great War,’ I repeat with a hard voice. ‘I will not ask you again.’
Within a flash, I hold an ice dagger in my hand. The last thing I’m doing is unsheathing the blade of Vindrun in front of them in case that’s the real reason they’re here. Trade would be an excellent excuse for a second attempt at thievery.
And yet, rather than recoil, Aulia steps towards me.
‘It is you.’ The words leave her in a breath.
‘Yes,’ I tell her. ‘It’s me. The abomination.’
It is her, Aulia repeats, not to me, but into the minds of her people. It is her!
‘The what?’ Magnus exclaims.
‘That’s what they called me when they attacked us.’
Magnus rises to his feet. ‘You were attacked in the city?’ There’s a tremor in the air, as if any second now, his magic is going to surge out into the room and engulf us all.
And while I’m not opposed to terrifying the Torailians a little, I don’t want it to come at the cost of his trade agreements.
‘Not in the city,’ I admit begrudgingly. ‘We encountered them before we arrived here.’
‘Who is this child?’ Aulia demands, her attention locked on Magnus.
‘I am not a child,’ I snarl. ‘And you seem to be forgetting the fact that I am the one with a blade pointed at you. I’m the one asking the questions, and I am getting very impatient.’
Magnus shifts, his usual serene expression gone as he frowns at his trade partners – for me. Guilt pinches.
‘I’m sorry, Grandfather, for interrupting your talks, but this is important.’
His face softens and he nods before sitting in the chair that passes as his throne.
‘Grandfather,’ Aulia whispers.
It’s only when I hear the word come from her that I realise it’s the first time I’ve called Magnus that.
‘Is this true?’ Aulia asks, her focus once again on the king. ‘She is your blood? She is of Issen blood?’
‘Yes. Rose is my granddaughter.’ There is no mistaking the pride in his voice. Apparently, the fact that I’ve failed to complete the third stage of the Veil and am mere days away from being poisoned isn’t enough to dull that, yet.
‘And does the blood of the Sannings run in her veins too?’ Excitement lifts in her tone. ‘It does, does it not? It is her. The Child of Four.’
My spine stiffens at the title, emotion I had hoped to keep hidden rising to the surface.
Aulia’s eyes are gleaming. ‘You have heard that term before, have you not, Child of Four?’
The answer rises in my mind, but before I let it form, I shove it back down. I don’t owe her any explanations.
‘I am the one asking the questions,’ I bark. ‘You tell me. What do you know of the Child of Four? Of the Great War?’
‘You know of the Great War. Tell me, where did you hear of such a thing?’
She’s still answering my questions with questions! I scoff, shaking my head at the audacity of this woman. From the way she’s demanding answers, you’d think she was the ruler here. And I’m done with it.
Melting the blade into nothingness, I fold my arms across my chest. ‘I’m not answering any of your questions until you answer mine. What is it? What is the Great War?’
Her lips press into a thin line as a sense of heaviness flows from her into me, dense and somehow profound. It’s as though she’s shouldering the weight of the world, and she wants me to feel it. She wants me to feel that burden.
Child of Four, she begins.
‘Speak out loud,’ I snap. ‘I want words. Words that we can all hear,’ I add with a nod towards Magnus.
She clicks her tongue against the roof of her mouth in consternation but continues as instructed. ‘Very well. The Great War is what we have all been waiting for. It is written in the Last Prophecy.’
A prophecy now. Fuck me, does it ever stop? Never have I felt more like the Gods’ pawn.
‘The Last Prophecy.’ I grit my teeth. ‘What is that, exactly?’
‘The Last Prophecy… It outlines the Torailians’ one true purpose: to stand beside the Child of Four. To make sure he will never rise again.’
Sanrott, I think but do not say.
Yet her eyes widen. Yes! she says triumphantly into my mind. Yes, it is you!
Before I can chastise her, she continues aloud, ‘Trade does not matter anymore. Not for you, nor for me. This supersedes all else.’ She spins to face the other Torailians.
‘We have found the child of the Last Prophecy! The Great War is already upon us. The war that the Gods themselves have waited for.’
I lift my hands to my head, trying to stop the drumming that has started behind my temples.
‘We’ll follow you, Skakka!’ one of the Torailians bellows.
Aulia shoots him a sharp look before turning back to me. ‘Forgive him. He shouldn’t have spoken out of turn. But the sentiment is shared. Whether you want it or not, we stand with you, Skakka.’
Skakka? Am I supposed to know what this new title she’s given me means? Do I even want to know? The incessant throbbing in my head has reached an entirely new level. Last time I met her, she wanted to kill me, and now she’s saying she will follow me to the ends of the world.
‘Whatever your prophecy is, it is clear that Rose needs time to gather her thoughts. And perhaps other things too,’ Magnus adds, looking at me pointedly.
His gaze shows little emotion, yet I know exactly what, or rather who, he’s talking about.
My people. I need Kyor and Caz with me. Benny too, if he can manage it.
‘We will find you some quarters,’ Magnus says tightly to Aulia. ‘They are not to be permanent, but you are to wait there until you are called upon. Until my granddaughter is ready to hear more from you. Is that agreeable to you, Rose?’
As his eyes meet mine again, a new feeling floods through me. Gratitude. He’s allowing me time and space to process and placing my emotional well-being above whatever the Torailians demand. They’re the actions I could imagine Uzra doing for Orla. Or any grandfather doing for a loved one.
‘Thank you, yes, I would appreciate that,’ I tell him with a warm smile. And despite the chaos in my mind, my heart feels surprisingly light.
The next few moments are filled with discussion as Magnus and his men make arrangements for the Torailians.
With Toren occupied and no other Issen I’m on a first-name basis with present, I have no choice but to ask Brida – who now stands at the back of the room – to help me.
‘Brida, I need you to find Caz for me,’ I ask her. ‘Tell her to meet me in the palace. She should be with Benny. She said she would stay with him this afternoon. Please tell her it’s very important.’
Given how much my words sound like an order, I expect Brida to scoff and tell me where to shove it, but instead, she dips her head in a nod of agreement. ‘Of course. I’ll find her now.’
Her willingness to help is possibly even more unexpected than me being in a Godsdamn prophecy.
Fen once told me I resonate with destiny. It seems he wasn’t wrong.
I watch Brida go, and after a moment’s hesitation I move to leave, only for Magnus to call me back.
‘Rose, if I can have a moment, please?’
I nod and wait patiently while the rest of the Issen and Torailians disperse.
‘What do you know of this Great War?’ I ask the moment the room is empty. ‘What can you tell me of it?’
‘Very little,’ Magnus replies. ‘It is a Torailian concern, but they talk of it constantly. It is the reason they will not fight with us against the Morathkians. The prophecy – the “Last Prophecy” – is said to be centuries, if not millennia, old, and it has been generations since we Issen stopped paying it any mind. There are only so many times you can hear that the Great War is coming and believe it, when it never actually materialises. Particularly when we are actively fighting our own real battles.’
‘But it is coming,’ I say absently with a frown. ‘Truly this time. Oel himself told me of the Great War.’
Magnus turns rigid, his white eyes so large they appear to have doubled in size.
‘You have spoken to our God? In person?’
I frown. ‘Of course. It was the second stage of the Veil. A conversation with Oel. I assumed that’s what always happens during the second stage? A meeting with the Gods to prove worthiness or something.’
Magnus is gawping at me. It’s the first time I’ve seen the king wear that expression, and given how carefully he guards his reactions, this must be one hell of a shock.
‘It is possible,’ he finally says when he has recovered himself, ‘but I can assure you, I have never heard of such a thing. It certainly did not occur for me.’
‘It didn’t?’ I say in surprise.
‘No. I had to climb up steps. A lot of steps.’
I go to laugh, assuming he’s joking, but the seriousness on his face tells me he’s not.
‘Really?’
‘Really. I kept climbing until I passed out. I believed it to be a test of my perseverance, but now I am not so sure.’
‘Okay.’ I breathe heavily, trying to push this new bit of knowledge aside. Chats with Oel aren’t normal. Once again, I’m singled out, special, but how I long not to be. ‘So, is that what you wished to talk to me about? The Great War?’
Magnus hesitates. ‘No, it is not.’ His chest rises and falls in a nervous-sounding breath as he moves from one side of the room to the other. ‘There is something I haven’t told you, Rose. It is not a secret as such, just … I wasn’t certain. And I did not want to give you hope until I was. But now…’
He stops his pacing to look at me. ‘I do not want to go on with any more secrets, even half-secrets, with you, Rose. You deserve better than that.’
‘Thank you,’ I say, although nervousness bubbles in my stomach. Even half-secrets can have a way of changing everything.