Page 92 of While the Dark Remains

“Perhaps she would. Perhaps she wouldn’t.”

I digest this information. “You spoke with her?”

“We all did. My parents brought Vil and me up the hill to her temple, past the gates to a garden in an inner courtyard. We sat there, by the pool, and she knelt on a white pillow and turned to look at us. Her eyes, too, were every color, and no color at all. She beckoned Vil and me over to her, and we both went, me shaking all over and him very still. We held out our hands to her, and she dipped both of hers in the water, then grasped Vil and me by our wrists. I felt a searing, awful pain for half a moment, and I cried out. Then the pain was gone, and she released us. She looked me in the eye and said, ‘The White Goddess blesses you, you who will rule Skaanda.’”

Saga takes a breath and lifts her right arm into my view so I can once more see the white, eight-pointed star—the mark of the White Goddess.

“I was haughty, for a while,” she says, drawing her arm back again. “I thought nothing could touch me, that I could win the war with Daeros, be a hero praised in stories and songs for centuries to come. So I went to battle, with a sword in my hand and triumph on my lips. But I got Njala killed, and Hilf killed, and myself—” She shuts her mouth, turns her head away, and doesn’t finish.

I drift to sleep and dream I am back in the mountain again, locked in Kallias’s cage. Then I am falling, falling, I smash all to pieces at the bottom of the Sea of Bones. And Kallias laughs.

We wake to the ringing of trumpets. Saga sits bolt upright on the opposite side of our dying fire, her eyes bright. “Skaandan war horns,” she breathes.

They sound again, sharp and piercing in the cool morning air, accompanied by the dull thud of hooves on soft earth. Saga shouts in happiness, then pulls on her boots and practically tumbles down our hill to the plain.

I rise more slowly, dousing the fire and scattering the ashes. This is my moment, my chance to slip away and no longer be embroiled in the fates of Skaandan royalty.

Perhaps it is because I am weary, or perhaps it is because after all this time I do not wish to be alone, but I don’t go. I wait for Saga and her army. And when they come, I swing up onto the horse they give me and I ride with them, dark and swift across the plain, chasing the sun as it climbs the arch of the sky and falls down again toward the horizon.

And in the afternoon of the second day with the army, we arrive, at long last, in Staltoria City.

Chapter Sixteen

Year4200, Month of the Gray Goddess

Daeros—Tenebris

“I can’t do this anymore. We have to move our timeline up.”

I sit with Vil, Saga, Pala, and Leifur in my and Saga’s room, heat coiling through the vents, a tray of wine and scones untouched on the low table between us.

“Why can’t we assassinate the king and hold the mountain until the army comes?” I’m trembling, my head hurting from lack of food, my skin still crawling from Kallias’s touch. I try not to think about Ballast, hunched on the floor, about what his father might be doing to him for the sin of touching me.

“We’ve been over and over this,” says Vil in an overly gentle tone, like he’s placating a child. “You saw the barracks, Brynja. The five of us can’t fight off the entire Daerosian army. We have to stick to our original plan. Wait forourarmy to arrive. Then seize Tenebris from within. We only have to last another six weeks.”

“Even if we did try and take Tenebris now, Ballast won’t let the mountain go quietly,” Saga adds, her jaw tight. “Not now he’s been named heir.”

“Wouldn’t he, though?” I argue. “Wouldn’t anything be better than his father on the throne?”

“You think you know him so well,” Saga snaps. “But Kallias’s blood runs through his veins. He will do everything in his power to hold on to Daeros.”

“Ballast has been meeting with the Daerosian governors,” Vil adds. “He clearly has his own agenda, and I count him every bit as guilty as his father. He’ll be executed along with Kallias, when the time comes.”

My stomach drops, and I bite back a curse. “I never agreed to that.”

“You agreed to be under my authority,” says Vil. “You agreed to trust me.”

“Youpromised to keep me safe!” I fairly shriek at him.

“Do you expect Ballast to bow his head and swear fealty to Skaanda?” Saga cuts in.

“Maybe Ballastshouldbe allowed to be king,” I retort. “Annexing Daeros wouldn’t even be necessary if true peace can be struck with Skaanda.”

Saga swears. “Why are youdefendinghim, Brynja?”

“That was never the plan,” says Vil sharply. “And you’re forgetting the weapon.”

“Right. The weapon.” I jerk up from my seat and pace the length of the room, trying to get hold of myself.

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