Reign of Mist

by Helen Scheuerer

  ‘Is there something we can improve on, my lady?’ the girl ventured, bowing her head in respect.

  One of the boys beside her elbowed her in the ribs, flushing pink.

  Henri studied her. A soldier who was willing to learn was often a great asset. ‘Your grip’s wrong,’ Henri said.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Hand me that training sword.’

  The girl did.

  Henri palmed the wooden sword; it had been a long time since she’d fought with anything other than her katars. ‘Your hands need to be closer together.’ She showed the girl. ‘It gives you more freedom of movement with the blade.’

  The girl nodded eagerly, taking back the sword. ‘Like this?’

  ‘Better. Though with your build, a longsword is probably not the best choice. Try a broadsword.’

  ‘I will. Are you going to be fighting with us, my lady?’

  ‘I am. So are my kindred.’

  Relief shone in the girl’s eyes.

  Henri made to move on, but then stopped. ‘Why are you fighting?’ she asked, glancing between the girl and her companions.

  ‘Our mother and father,’ she said. ‘They fell under her spell. They went mad, along with everyone in our village. They tried to brand us, and our baby brother. So we ran away.’

  ‘That’s very brave.’

  ‘We’re scared.’

  ‘Bravery is doing something despite being scared.’

  The girl gave a small smile and palmed the sword as Henri had done.

  ‘Pick one of your brothers. I want to see you spar.’

  ‘Henri!’ someone called from the far side of the field, jogging towards her. Athene’s daughter.

  ‘Henri,’ she said again as she approached, clutching a piece of parchment.

  ‘What is it, Luka?’

  ‘A message from Valia.’

  Allehra. Henri took the outstretched letter, glancing down at the unbroken Valian seal. She couldn’t read this here.

  ‘Tell Athene and the others to continue instructing.’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘You stay in my place. They need all the help they can get.’

  ‘I’d be honoured.’

  Henri gave a curt nod and strode out of the arena.

  In the privacy and warmth of Eydis’ study, Henri paced before the fire. She clutched the unopened letter in her hands, willing herself to break the seal. Willing herself to find the strength to read whatever news it held.

  When she and Sahara were little, they used to play a game when they were scared. Like when Sahara had to jump from a high ledge, or when Henri had to spar with an older, more experienced Valian. And most of all, when Allehra was angry with them.

  Simuliah? One would ask the other. An ancient word from the long-forgotten Valian tongue.

  Etiame. Simuliah. Yes. Together.

  She was on her own now. Henri ran her fingers across the forest-green wax seal, a single Valian tree stamped into it. Holding her breath, she sliced the letter open with her katar and unfolded the parchment. A stranger’s wide, looping handwriting greeted her.

  Your Majesty,

  My name is Lyndis, Head of the Groundling Healers. Her Majesty, Mother Matriarch Allehra, bid me write to you.

  By now, word will have reached you regarding your mother’s condition. I am saddened to say, it has not improved. Her Majesty has many burns to her body caused by Ashai fire. These do not heal in the same way as regular burns. We need magic.

  Her Majesty is weak, in and out of consciousness. In her more lucid hours, she talks of you. Forgive the forward nature of this next part, but I promised the Mother Matriarch I would relay her words to you:

  Name an heir. Do so before I die. There must always be an heir. It is the Valian Way.

  Henri’s heart caught in her throat. An heir. She sank into one of Eydis’ armchairs. She had always known this day would come. But not now. Allehra … Allehra was still so young by Valian standards. She had been younger than Henri was now when she’d had Sahara and Henri. Back then, she’d been fierce and unflinching. Harder on her daughters than any instructor. Henri pictured Allehra as she had been when she left Valia, the silver streaks in her midnight-black hair, the graceful way she moved. Her mother, swallowed by her own fire.

  Until we meet again. The words rang clear in Henri’s mind, along with the note of sadness that laced them.

  The door burst open.

  ‘Henri,’ Eydis barked. ‘Your kindred are riling up my soldiers to no end.’

  Henri tucked the parchment into her leathers. ‘Docile soldiers don’t win battles,’ she said. ‘They need to know why they’re fighting. They need to feel passion. Especially when they are as … inexperienced … as yours.’

  But Eydis hadn’t missed her move to hide the letter.

  ‘What is it?’ she asked.

  Henri met her friend’s eyes. ‘Allehra. She’s not improving.’

  Eydis sat down in the other chair and waited.

  ‘She … She wants me to name an heir.’

  Eydis’ face flooded with understanding. ‘I see.’

  ‘I don’t know what to do …’

  ‘Did you have someone in mind?’

  ‘The natural choice has always been Luka …’

  ‘Athene’s daughter?’

  Henri nodded.

  ‘But …?’

  ‘But I don’t know. It doesn’t … feel right. And you cannot unname an heir once it’s done.’

  Eydis reached across and gripped Henri’s forearm. ‘This is not a decision to be made hastily, my friend. You have time.’

  ‘You’ve seen it?’

  Eydis fell quiet.

  ‘Eydis, if you’ve seen it, I need to know.’

  She was interrupted by the long, loud blast of a battle horn outside.

  ‘What in the …?’

  It sounded again.

  Nicolai appeared at the doors, gasping for breath, hand on the hilt of his sword. ‘Intruders,’ he panted. ‘From the south. Ten minutes out. Maybe less.’

  Eydis was already on her feet. ‘To the gatehouse.’

  Chapter 23

  A battle horn blasted, and Bleak winced at the horrid sound. Loud, insistent and ominous. She had no idea what awaited them in the capital of the ice continent, but battle horns weren’t a promising start. Prowling beside her, Rion growled at the unwelcome noise, his maw set in a fang-bearing snarl. The rest of his pride stalked behind them, unsettled, their ears pricked and hackles raised.

  Bleak hadn’t thought she could get any colder, but as Mariette led them through an ice tunnel into the heart of Wildenhaven, Bleak knew she’d been wrong. The bitter chill settled in her lungs, so that breathing felt like it would strip the flesh from her insides. Casimir trudged beside her in silence, arms wrapped tightly around himself, his gaze focused on the slippery path before them.

  The horn blasted again and Mariette swore under her breath. ‘Damn fools,’ she muttered.

  ‘I thought you said Eydis knew we were coming?’ Sahara said.

  ‘She foresaw your arrival, yes. But the queen rarely shares her visions with the entire household.’

  Bleak noticed Casimir hanging on every word. She looked away as he turned towards her gaze.

  Ignoring the sound of the horn and shouts from within, they reached a formidable gatehouse. It matched the three towers looming beyond: built with great slabs of thick, grey stone, coated with crystal icicles as sharp as daggers.

  The soft tap of arrows being nocked and the smooth creak of bows being drawn sounded from above. Bleak didn’t have to glance up to know that archers were in position.

  Rion growled.

  ‘Who goes there?’ boomed a deep voice atop the wall.

  There was hesitation within their group. The roles of leadership had been blurred long ago. Casimir pointedly stayed at the back, and finally, it was Sahara who stepped forward. Bleak noted the tremor in the Valian’s hand as she tucked her cropped hair behind her ear.
/>
  ‘Sahara of the Valian kindred,’ she called back. ‘Daughter of Mother Matriarch Allehra, sister of Her Majesty, Henrietta of Valia. And Bleak, of Angove.’

  The buzzing of thoughts from the other side smashed into Bleak like a ship upon jagged rocks. She staggered under the weight of them, fighting the disbelief, the questions, the internal arguments of others. A firm hand gripped her elbow and held her upright. Grateful, she leaned into the support, but gasped as a bolt of raw power barrelled into her. Casimir.

  ‘What is that?’ she said under her breath, not daring to look at him.

  ‘A connection,’ he replied softly. ‘One was forged between you, Ermias and me when we were younger.’

  ‘How do you —’

  ‘Sahara of Valia is dead,’ the gatekeeper yelled over the wind.

  ‘And yet she stands before you,’ Mariette snapped, her dogs growing restless. ‘Let us through. Queen Eydis expects us.’

  They were met with silence. Sahara turned to Mariette, who busied herself releasing the canines from their harnesses.

  ‘What of the … other beasts?’ The voice faltered at the sight of Rion and the panthers.

  Bleak pulled away from Casimir and moved towards her pride. ‘They stay with me,’ she said.

  Mariette shot her an incredulous look, but Sahara shrugged. ‘The panthers remain with us. They will do no harm.’

  There was silence again as the gatekeeper conferred with his superiors.

  Bleak focused on Rion, trying not to get lost in the mind whispers.

  ‘For pity’s sake, Ronan,’ Mariette shouted. ‘Would you have our guests die of exposure? Open the damn gate.’

  The rattle of chains sounded, and there was a loud groan as the gates swung inward.

  Bleak heard the intake of breath from around her. At the foot of the middle tower, a complete guard and a pack of enormous dogs surrounded a woman who could only be the Queen of Havennesse. Billowing white furs were draped around her shoulders, her high cheekbones tipped with pink, and her thick caramel hair braided and piled atop her head.

  Bleak’s eyes slid to the figure who stood gaping next to Queen Eydis.

  Henrietta of Valia, clad in her forest-green leathers, katars strapped at her thighs, stepped forward.

  ‘Sahara?’ she breathed, her gaze solely on her twin.

  Two pairs of green-flecked graphite eyes met.

  ‘Hello, Henri.’

  No one spoke as the sisters closed the gap between them. The crunch of fresh snow beneath their boots was the only sound as they took each slow, tentative step.

  Henri stared at her sister, as though she didn’t believe who was before her very eyes. Her gaze flickered from Sahara’s filthy pants and tunic, to the crimson cape that fluttered at her back.

  Bleak watched as the Valian queen fought with herself, hands twitching at her sides. Then, Henri’s face hardened, and Bleak felt the thrum of power pulse outward, sending snow spraying over the outsiders.

  Henri lunged at Sahara.

  Not for an embrace. But for her sister’s throat.

  Sahara stepped aside, sending Henri staggering into the snow. Dusting herself off, Henri lunged again. The rest of the realm had clearly faded away. Her eyes were ablaze with hurt and rage.

  Behind the sisters, Eydis’ guards lurched forward, but the queen raised her hand, halting them.

  Bleak had never seen Henri look so … out of control. She could feel the intensity of the Valian’s magic singing, and Bleak’s own magic pulsed in response. From the look on Casimir’s face, he was experiencing the same thing.

  The scrape of steel sounded, and Bleak sucked in a breath as Henri drew her katars, the polished blades gleaming in the sun’s glare. Bleak could have sworn she heard a soft laugh escape Sahara as she unsheathed the sword from her back.

  The first impact of steel echoed between the three towers and reverberated through the snow.

  Henri advanced, katars gleaming. She struck, and Sahara blocked. She lunged again and her twin parried, striking back with equal force, equal strength. The sisters became a blur as they pivoted through the snow, their dance violent and chaotic.

  Blood spattered across the crisp white snow. Sahara’s.

  Henri swung again, and again, pausing only to send her fist flying at Sahara’s face. Sahara spat red and wiped her split lip with the back of her hand.

  ‘That all you’ve got?’ she said, taking up her stance and grinning with bloodied teeth.

  Henri clenched her jaw and charged, katars slicing through the icy air, hurtling towards Sahara. Sahara blocked each strike, and then whirled, her boot connecting with her sister’s chest. Henri was slammed into the snow.

  Sahara pinned her down, sword at her twin’s throat.

  Bleak gaped, heart thudding against her sternum. Henri was the best warrior she’d ever seen. And Sahara …

  Sahara was better.

  Henri stared up at her sister, eyes wide, as though realising the same thing.

  ‘But … you can’t fight …’

  ‘Wouldn’t,’ said Sahara. ‘I wouldn’t fight. There’s a difference, Henri. You always knew that.’

  Sahara withdrew her blade from where it pressed against Henri’s throat and stepped back, offering her hand.

  Bleak watched on, forgetting the burn of the cold, as Henrietta of Valia considered her sister’s outstretched hand, and took it.

  Chapter 24

  Henri grasped the stranger’s hand and allowed it to pull her up. The stranger who looked exactly like Sahara. The same rebellious cropped hair swinging at her jaw, the grey eyes that held a touch more green than Henri’s own.

  Henri stared in disbelief.

  A sad smile played on the stranger’s lips. ‘Not happy to see me, little sister?’

  The irises that mirrored Henri’s shone, daring Henri to challenge her again.

  Henri released the gloved hand, suddenly aware of the others around them: Eydis, Jarel, Nicolai, Mariette, half of the queen’s household, Henri’s own kindred … And behind Sahara – her.

  Bleak, the Angovian orphan, the mist dweller, the girl who had supposedly been dragged off to Moredon Tower, stood with her face flushed from the cold.

  Henri made to step towards her, but a low growl sounded from nearby. The cold air whistled between her teeth as she laid eyes on what could only be a teerah panther. The beast’s silvery-black coat was littered with scars, its hot breath fogging before its long fangs.

  Bleak dismissed the beast with a wave, and approached Henri, her boots crunching over the blood-spattered snow. The girl’s odd eyes met hers.

  ‘How?’ Henri managed.

  Bleak pushed the hair back from her forehead with a sigh. ‘It’s a long story.’

  ‘I hope so.’

  A gentle hand touched Henri’s shoulder. ‘Come, my friend,’ Eydis said. ‘Let’s allow our guests to warm up inside. Their tale can wait until their teeth stop chattering, surely?’

  Henri glanced around at the strange company still waiting in the courtyard, their lips blue and torsos trembling. She gave a stiff nod and turned back to the tower.

  ‘Is there room enough in your hall for the panthers?’ Bleak called after them.

  Henri’s brow shot up in surprise.

  Eydis considered Bleak, her gaze falling on the protective hand the girl had rested on the largest panther’s side. To Henri’s surprise, Eydis bowed her head, and with her furs billowing, disappeared into the hall, her entourage close behind her.

  Athene gawked at Henri from the steps, then at Henri’s lookalike, who stared back. The stranger’s face was etched with a familiar expression: dislike. Henri jolted. Her sister had never liked Athene.

  ‘What are we waiting for?’ Bleak said dryly from beside her. ‘It’s gods-damned freezing out here.’

  Henri felt a surge of gratitude for the second of normalcy offered.

  ‘Didn’t expect to see you again, Angovian,’ she said.

  ‘Nor I you, Valian.
Every woman for herself, right?’

  ‘Something like that …’

  The massive panther beside Bleak snarled softly and Henri couldn’t hide her jump.

  Bleak looked amused. ‘I know,’ she said to the beast. ‘Let’s go.’

  Henri made to follow them, but a gloved hand gripped her arm.

  ‘Henri.’ The woman’s eyes were bright, her cropped dark hair swinging loose at her chin. ‘Henri, please.’

  Bleak paused on the steps, as though unsure whether or not she should leave the pair alone. She glanced not at Henri, but to the other, waiting. The stranger gave Bleak a nod, and with a shrug, the Angovian left them.

  Henri looked from the gloved hand on her forearm to the face that mirrored her own. She so desperately wanted it to be true.

  Her magic hummed. It pulsed outward, exploring. As her power lingered on the hand that held her, it flickered, as though suddenly sensing the woman’s forgotten but familiar energy.

  ‘Is it … Is it really you?’

  The woman squeezed her arm. ‘It is. But I wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t believe me.’

  ‘I …’ It was the first time in a long while that Henri was lost for words. Fear gripped her chest so tightly she thought it might burst, but something else rippled within her as well … Hope.

  ‘Come, Henri. I will tell you everything when we have time alone. But for now, our duties await us.’

  Henri found herself nodding, not wanting … not wanting Sahara to release her arm. The touch was steadying, reassuring. But a moment later, it was gone.

  Inside the hall was a sight to behold. Bleak and four panthers were to one side, taking up almost a third of the space. The beasts lounged lazily on their stomachs, clearly content to be out of the bitter cold, while the rest of their pride had stalked away to the nearby woods. Bleak sat on the floor, with her back resting against the largest panther. The Wildenhaven household gave them a wide berth, but the Angovian looked happy enough to stay with the beasts. As Henri went to her elite kindred standing alert at the foot of the dais, she took in the rest of the newcomers. A smallish group. Most bore expressions of bewilderment, as though they couldn’t quite believe they’d made it here. And then there was someone else, a tall, thin man who was both part of their entourage, and not. He stood just a fraction further away from the rest, enough for Henri to know that he was other. His gaze swept the hall with intensity, eventually meeting hers. She stared back. She didn’t know him, but her magic … Her magic did.