Page 171 of A Crown of Tears and Treason
Valuta gave me a grave nod, like we were sharing some great, big secret. I nodded back. Yes, yes, of course I was totally in on her heinous plan. Make me rich and steal me away, whatever.
The advisors stood three steps below the king and queen, with no sign of Kaya or Vexa. I hadn’t seen either of them since the night of the Oracle’s prediction and I was getting worried.
Eldryan opened his arms wide, the gold and ruby symbols on his ceremonial robe gleaming in the sun and casting a long shadow that quieted the crowd. He and Zayova stood above everyone, the glistening pair leading the Blood Brotherhood, one of the most fearsome Clan in all of Malhaven. At least officially, in the eyes of all these civilians gathered around for the spectacle of today.
Did they know? That the advisors were pulling strings behind the scenes, that their prince was the one who actually protected them? The one who risked his life alongside his warriors each time to defend their borders. Who evacuated his people and sheltered them in the Capital. Who held so much responsibility on his shoulders that he muttered ration numbers in his sleep and flinched when they didn’t add up like he wanted them to.
All this show, all this artifice…I knew they had their place. They signified prosperity, the peace and space to focus on the shiny and the pretty, which was only possible when the basics worked. It was a message meant to prove to the civilians that their Clan was strong, so they slept better at night. But none of this would be possible without the sacrifices they didn’t see and would never know about. Just like grandpa Constantine had said.
“Today, we uphold the traditions of our ancestors. As they did, so do we,” Eldryan boomed. He must have hadan enchantment on his voice, because it rippled through the entirety of Phoenix Peak.
“We are here to see off the Lost Daughter of the Protectorate,” he said and I grimaced; I still hadn’t shaken that particular moniker, it seemed. What happened tofuture queen? “And wish her luck in her journey. May she avoid detection if she wishes or come back with her chosen one if she so decides. Her closest will advise her–”
“As if you’d listen,” Adara scoffed.
“–and may the heir of our Clan prove his worth to her. He shall find and protect his chosen ones, from now until eternity.”
On cue, Zandyr appeared in front of the crowd, riding Madrya in all his glory. A flutter erupted in my chest as I watched him from the corner of my eyes, schooling my face to look nothing but detached. He looked stoic and strong, the perfect leader for his Clan and every member inside of it. His chosen ones.
As we’d already planned, we didn’t so much as exchange one glance. There couldn’t be anything between us apart from calculated coldness in front of such a large audience.
Zavoya stepped next to the king. “May the gods, old and new, watch over you today. And may Xamor not make an appearance.”
As the crowd erupted in a ruckus of cheers and incantations to ward off Xamor’s presence, the line of carriages began to move.
I sent a reassuring wave through our connection, and Zandyr mirrored it instantly.
In the distance, I heard more carriages heading toward the temple. Curious. I’d only counted seven in our procession, but my ears heard at least three more. Perhaps the commotion had skewed my hearing.
So many people, all cheering for me. Or because I was leaving. Did they want me back or not?
I shook my head as we passed the gates. Those were ugly thoughts. I didn’t feel resentment in the civilians’ applause, these were my doubts trying to poison me.
“It’s good that you did this, Your Grace.” Leesa looked out the window, smiling. “They’re glad to see their future queen participating in our traditions. As am I.”
Adara scoffed but said nothing else as our carriage rolled onto the filled streets, civilians crowding the edges of the streets, garlands of flowers hanging from the eaves. As we neared the port, I saw a construction site where the temple had stood. Fresh wooden beams rose toward the sky, with no sign of the fallen bell or the ashes. The Capital seemed to have gotten over the incident, even if I hadn’t.
Adara yanked the velvet curtains on both carriage windows, blocking my view. “They’ve seen enough of you. Nobody’s supposed to know which carriage is yours from this point on.”
I couldn’t argue with that, not when they’d gone through so much trouble to camouflage and safeguard our journey. So instead, I turned to Goose, who’d been tapping his fingers onto the journal since we’d left.
“What have you found?”
Goose instantly lit up, thumbing the pages of the journal like he’d been dying to open it. He leaned forward, eyes alight and voice no louder than a murmur. “This is very strange.”
The air in the carriage turned tense, suffocating the dregs of my nerves.
“I’ve only ever seen some of these symbols during my first year studies, when they taught us how to read sacred texts about the forgotten gods. They’re old. Older than the Clan itself,” he said. Even his whispers were excited. “The monks in the mountains had transcribed the ancient etchings and translatedsome of them. A dozen symbols out of the hundreds on that scroll are similar.”
Which would make sense if the Blood Brotherhood had absorbed the Quoriliths, an ancient Clan.
“But…” Goose hesitated.
“What we’ve managed to translate doesn’t really make sense,” Leesa said. “They talk about controlling people. Their minds. But…”
I stood up straighter. Valuta’s dulcet words reverberated in my mind. “Yes?”
“I don’t think it’s right.” Goose’s head bobbed in sync with the carriage as we rolled downhill, the murmur of the Capital barely audible now, replaced with the swish of the trees and the flutter of the rainbow birds. “There was a mention of reviving the dead.”
