Chapter 58
Outside the library, I brace myself for what sights await.
I might not have been in a battle before, but I have been in the Retterheld, and the aftermath of each trial was much the same.
Burns, blindness, broken limbs – we suffered through it all.
But as I open the door, I’m surprised by the quietness that finds me and by the extent of the rearrangement that has taken place in such a short amount of time.
The foyer that I have come to know, with its large, open space and chairs, has been completely reorganised into healing stations. There are beds filled with both Torailians and Issen, and though several squirm in pain or shift visibly in discomfort, no wails or cries reach me.
‘They have placed a sound ward around the beds,’ Uzra explains as he sidles up beside me. ‘Glad to see you alive, Princess.’
‘And you. Your men?’ I ask him.
‘We lost three good men, but their deaths were swift, and they will be honoured.’
I think of Ruben’s funeral, of the magnificence created when a small portion of the Issen people offered their power to honour him.
I can only dream of what magnificent rite awaits the men and women who lost their lives today.
All will undoubtedly want to offer their magic to honour the ones who died to save Isthyr.
But I’ll have to imagine the rite, because I can’t stay to watch, no matter how much I too want to honour their sacrifice.
‘I’m looking for the Torailian, for Aulia,’ I tell him. ‘I heard she was injured.’
‘And now she is healed,’ she says from behind me.
I spin and find the Torailian standing behind me, the bottom of her veil nothing more than charred fabric.
The trace of a scar from an already healing burn extends down her neck, but her eyes are bright, her jaw relaxed, and there’s no evidence of pain on her face. The healers here work well.
‘You sought me out, Skakka. What do you need?’
Before I respond, I look between Uzra and Fen.
‘My wolf has a burn injury too,’ I tell Uzra. ‘Please, can you ask a healer to place a balm on it? If I had time, I would create one myself, but—’
‘It’s as good as done, Princess,’ Uzra replies, gesturing for Fen to follow him.
‘I had a vision,’ I say without preamble once Aulia and I are alone. ‘The Rottings are travelling to Galreck.’
‘The Rottings? That is what you call those suspended between life and death? Those who carry the putrid decay of darkness. Those who—’
‘Yes, yes,’ I cut her off. As much as he’d hate to hear it, I think Aulia and Fen may have a couple of things in common.
She sighs heavily. ‘Then it is as I said. The Great War has come.’
Goosebumps rise on my arms as my awareness spreads beyond Aulia, to the men and women I sense listening in. If only I’d asked for one of those sound wards too, but it’s too late for that now.
I know the question I should ask, yet the words judder in my throat. ‘I … I… The Last Prophecy,’ I spit out finally. ‘What does it say? What are the words?’
‘Are you ready to hear it?’ she asks.
‘As long as you’re ready to fight with me.’
A smile curls her lips. ‘We have been ready since the dawn of time, Skakka. I will tell you now.’
‘No, not here. The others need to hear it too. Come with me to the throne room.’
Her garnet eyes flash in excitement as she nods in agreement. ‘As you wish.’
Ignoring the eyes I know are watching me, I scan the ground floor until my gaze lands on Fen.
You ready to go? I ask him. Or do you need a little more time?
Of course I do not need more time. You are the one who insisted I come here, Little Raven. If that red-eyed arrow wielder is ready, then so am I.
You know we need that red-eyed arrow wielder on our side, right? I remind him. Try not to upset her too much.
He huffs, but within the sound I feel his reluctant agreement.
I need you to reach out to Elska. When Kyor is done, he needs to come to the throne room.
As you wish, Little Raven.
Before we leave, Nettie stops me.
‘You are hurt, Princess?’ she asks.
‘Truthfully, I’m not sure,’ I tell her, the pain in my hands overwhelming everything else.
I try to concentrate, to isolate the searing of the poison so I can focus on the rest of my battered body.
My muscles are throbbing, yes, but it could be from pain, exhaustion, or simply the mental anguish of what has happened and what is still to come.
‘I will see you right. May I take your hands?’ I appreciate that she doesn’t suggest we sit down, understanding that I need to get on the move as quickly as possible.
As the anxiety of all I have to face threatens to grip me, heat rushes from Nettie’s hands into my palms before radiating outwards into every muscle, the tingling warmth melting any aches and pains that they contain. My head also feels clearer.
All that’s left is the pain in my hands, which even a healer cannot touch. It’s a constant, throbbing reminder that I have only days left to live and complete the Veil. Yet how can I focus on that when all I feel is the horror of the Rottings attacking Galreck? When I have a prophecy to hear?
‘All done,’ Nettie says, dropping my black-laced hands and stepping away from me.
‘Thank you,’ I reply before casting a look at Fen and Aulia. ‘It’s time.’
The three of us leave the library in silence and head straight to the throne room. Kyor is waiting outside.
‘Brida knows what she’s doing?’ I ask him. There’s no time for greetings, and I’m struck with the realisation that I haven’t even kissed him since before the battle. But as much as I want to, now is not the time.
‘She does. She’s gathering a group of women to slip through into Morathkian territory with her. They’ve borrowed some of the old guards’ uniforms to try to blend in, and though they’re a bit out of date, no one should think anything of it.’
‘And she knows who she needs to meet?’
‘Yeah, I’ve given her a list of names, and something to say so they’ll know this is a direct order from me.’
I nod. I’ve seen what Ryne was like with Kyor. She’d follow him to the ends of the earth. I’m sure of it. As long as there are a few more like her among the Morathkian forces, we stand a fighting chance.
‘Good, so let’s go hear this prophecy.’
Caz and the others are gathered, and though I see her chest expand as she readies herself to embrace me, someone else gets there first.
‘Rose.’ Magnus crushes me to him, engulfing me in his arms. ‘Thank goodness.’
‘I’m okay, Your— Grandfather.’ I change my mind at the last minute.
‘You went against my wishes,’ he notes. But a beat later he shakes any recrimination off. ‘We are safe,’ Magnus says, a faint hint of relief colouring his tone as he pulls away.
‘For now,’ I agree. ‘But Kyor had to kill his own soldiers to get us here.’
I meet the prince’s gaze, wishing there was a way I could soften the words, but I want Magnus to know the truth. I want him to know what Kyor did for me. For all of Issen.
And I want to make sure Kyor knows his decision was the right one.
‘There was no other choice. No other way to stop the Morathkians on both sides of the pyrrhic and save Isthyr from being invaded. But we don’t have time to keep talking about what has already happened. We need to focus on what’s coming.’
Before I can explain further, Caz steps forward, her eyes on Aulia. ‘You asked her here so you could hear the prophecy?’
‘Yes, so all of us can hear it. Because I think she’s right. The Great War is upon us.’
Every person’s gaze has shifted from me to the Torailian. Slowly, she moves to the centre of the group, closes her eyes, and begins to speak with a voice deeper and more resonant than all the drums of Galreck combined.
Of four they hail, no bloodline spared,
The bond of three shall mark them prepared.
For trials rise and sacrifice calls,
Where truth is forged and falsehood falls.
The secrets crowned, the darkest sin,
Shall test the hearts that dwell within.
The favour of one they must claim,
To stand unbroken in the flame.
With blessed, cursed blades in hand,
And condemned hearts at fate’s command,
Their kin shall rise with power strong
To right at last the ancient wrong.
What long ago was left undone,
To bind the dark that came unspun—
The Great War’s end, at last made true,
O Child of Four… begins with you.
Silence grips the throne room as my heart hammers in every pulse point I possess.
That’s one hell of a lot of responsibility, if I’m the Child of Four, and right now it’s pretty hard to see it any other way.
Especially with Oel naming me so. And with that line of winning the favour of one… It has to mean Etta. Etta’s favour.
But did Aulia say I would be aided by kin or sin? My pulse ticks higher still. Kin was definitely mentioned, I’m sure of it. Does that mean Kay and William? I shake my head. No, they can’t be involved in this. They can’t. Magnus, I think. And Thessa. They’re living it with me now.
I need to hear it again. I have to see it. Why the hell did I ask her to say it? To try to make sense of it, what I need is to see it written down.
‘Rose.’ Caz steps forward, a piece of paper in her hand.
‘You wrote it down?’
Her smile is fleeting. ‘Once a scribe, always a scribe, right?’
My eyes fall to the black ink that’s barely dried, to the stanza that causes my chest to squeeze with such force that it expels every ounce of air within me.
With blessed, cursed blades in hand,
And condemned hearts at fate’s command,
Their kin shall rise with power strong
To right at last the ancient wrong.
But maybe it doesn’t mean my family. No, the Issen, the Sannings, the Torailians … they’re all my kin. That’s what it means, surely?
What I’m doing now is getting my kin to aid me, right?
‘Prophecies are designed to screw with your head, Rose. They are notorious mindfucks,’ Benny says before glancing apologetically at Magnus. ‘Sorry but I think you might just have to get used to the swearing, Your Majesty.’
‘No need to apologise. In truth, I find the word “mindfuck” to be quite an apt description, actually.’