It changes course and dives.
Chapter Twenty-Three
A Proposal
Ash’s body flew backwards.
What she assumed was the fireplace connected hard with her back, driving all the wind from her.
She didn’t understand what was happening. The whole world was just noise and splinters, upside down, with no right way up.
Ash tasted even more blood in her mouth now – blood and foggy thoughts, a dully thumping head and arms and legs that refused to move properly. Somehow, she got to understand which limb went where and pulled herself up to sitting, groaning as she did.
Only then did she see.
A raven carrior the size of the front hall entryway had crashed straight in through the roof and into the parlour, obliterating most of it. The bird was screeching in pain, its enormous black feathers reigning over the ruins of furniture and the twitching limbs beneath it. It wasn’t even trying to grab any people – just lay there screaming.
Ash struggled to sit up, her mind refusing to take in what she was seeing. Almost the whole front side of the house was gone. At least five of the marauders that she could see lay scattered like dolls in the remains, not breathing. One had been impaled on a beam from the roof, another’s head lay beneath a tile. Ash’s heart clutched tight and she whirled her head around, looking for her family.
They were shaky but alive, miraculously still standing. Her stepmother and sister looked like orphaned children, clutching onto each other in front of the disembodied fireplace that barely had a wall behind it anymore.
The bird was still on the floor, screaming.
The marauders left alive had an answer to the invisible question that had hung in the air just seconds before. What did anyone believe in anymore? This. With one heart they leapt at the one thing that summarised all their pain and fury, coming at it with chair legs and stolen knives and, eventually, just the bare hands.
Ash could not watch. She turned her head to one side.
“Ash? Ash!”
Rize’s voice. The prince and duke had walked right in in spite of the bolted door, because there was no bolted door anymore. His dark eyes were alight with worry as he stared down at her and when she began to sit up he breathed out deeply.
Ash looked around, to see the marauders largely ignoring their crown prince, dismounting his horse. But they peacefully dragged what remained of the dead carrior through the obliterated hole that had been the front of her home. It was slow going, with their scrawny arms, but they shuffled the black and red tangle of meat along. Rize and Ash turned to watch them go.
A wheezing sound snapped Ash’s attention back to the room.
“Where’s Derrick?”
Stepmother didn’t seem to have heard, but Vanita looked at her in silence, eyes wide. They could not see him anywhere.
Five minutes later she found him, underneath the splintered remains of her mother’s old chair. He seemed alive, but not waking, his face sweet and so much like the boy he had once been.
Two shiny black boots asserted themselves into Ash’s line of sight, next to Derrick’s unconscious face. For the first time that day she smiled then, smiled the way she had when she had been dancing with those same boots what felt like years ago. She composed her features, wiped her hands on her apron and stood up.
“Hello again.”
“Hello yourself,” Rize said and kissed her.
After the noise of the fight, the room seemed awkwardly quiet, as the prince and the kitchen girl stared at each other. Luckily the duke was there to break the silence, somehow still immaculate in his white uniform and cloak. He smiled at her pleasantly as if they were on a picnic and walked straight over to her sister, ending in a deep bow.
“Hello again, Vanita.”
“You-you recognise me, sir?”
The duke’s eyes crinkled as it was his turn to smile. “Of course I do.”
Vanita’s face seemed to lose some of its scars in seconds as she smiled back.
The prince turned again to Ash. “We were coming up and saw the rabble ahead of us, so we followed them in. I am glad we were not too late, although it seems you had the situation well in hand.”
He stopped, smiled meaningfully at her. Ash smiled at him, smile faltering slightly as her eyes fell on Derrick’s slumped form.
The prince cleared his throat. “And now, Ash Cerentola, of House Rhodopalais, there is another hand I am interested in.” After a dignified pause he took her hand and, without breaking eye contact, sank down onto one knee.
“Ash!” squeaked Vanita.
“Ashlynne,” began Rize formally…
“Stop.”
He paused abruptly mid-breath, looking up at Ash quizzically. She sighed and sank down to kneel on his level in front of him.
“Rize, you know I like you. But is this what you want, truly?”
“I… Of course, I –”
“Rize, I know you want the kingdom saved. But do you want to be married? Truly… Rize?”
He looked away. “Well, it is rather a big thing for at our age but, well, if it’s for the good of the realm…”
“Rize, what if, for the good of the realm, you didn’t have to marry anyone?”
“What are you saying?”
“I have a proposal for you, Prince. I’ve had an idea, from a strange dream I had. From here it wouldn’t work but…”
“Ash, what are you saying?”
“Let me come with you, to the palace. Derrick too. As munitions and weapons experts. We can win against these carriors with the right weapons.”
Rize sighed, running a hand through his black hair. “We’ve tried weapons on them Ash. Our entire guard have used arrows and swords and spears and all number of things.”
“But did they use the Expansion iron?”
The hand stopped working through hair and the crown prince looked up quickly, sharply. “What?”
“It’s something you said that first night at the palace. I didn’t think about it at the time, but you said ‘arrows don’t work on them, or even most swords’ and I thought about how easily our crossbow bolts work and thought ‘he doesn’t know’…”
Rize licked his lips quickly and put his hand down, his eyes glowing. “Are you certain?”
“Certain. The clumps of iron ore in the ground now after the Project. This area is rife with it. It is hard enough and can be sharpened enough to kill carriors outright. I have done it, many times.”
“What are you saying?”
“With palace resources, Derrick and I could make new developments on weapons that could kill multiple carriors at a time. And with the carriors out of control now, flying all over, but the Project earth with its iron only here, other neighbouring countries will need our weapons. They will need to buy from us to survive themselves. Food, grain, new earth shipped in… Anything. We could name our price.”
Rize’s eyes were gleaming properly now, whether from unshed tears of sadness or from hope, she did not know. And he was nodding.
The duke was next to them, she realised, without her ever having heard him walk up. He too nodded at Ash.
“I didn’t hear anything mentioned about a marriage proposal as of yet, did you cousin?”
Rize seemed to understand. Slowly, he shook his head no. “My father would need to see you both in person, and you’d need to gain his trust. He is difficult lately… But we can try it, yes.”
Ash nodded back, relieved. Vanita hugged her. Stepmother looked scandalised.
“Very well, two weapons experts instead. And Ash?”
“Yes?”
“Just so you know, I may not particularly want to be married, but if I were to be married, I would want it to be you.”
Ash smiled again and, with Derrick safely unconscious, lifted her lips up to his for a kiss. When they pulled apart, both were smiling.
In the scattered remains of the room, they shook hands.
***
Some time later, the carriage arriv
ed. It horselessly approached the wreckage of the mansion without pause, stopping only when it was in front of its royals and new charges, sitting on the remaining chaise lounge together amidst an ocean of splinters and rock.
Ash looked over at her sister for the thousandth time.
“Will you be alright?” She turned to Rize. “Are you absolutely sure that we cannot all fit into the coach?”
“I’m sure. But the men will be here any minute to provide armed protection.”
“I don’t like just leaving them.”
“I know, but my father the King is highly suspicious lately and if you did not show up with myself and the duke to convince him, I’m afraid they’d try to shoot you before you even reached the drawbridge.”
Ash turned back to Vanita. “Are you sure you’ll be alright? We can always wait until the soldiers get here to guard you all.”
“Then you’ll be travelling at night Ash. It’s fine. He said they’d send a coach for us after you and Derrick arrive. Go.”
“Humph.”
Derrick was now awake and scowling at the ceiling. Having heard the plan, he seemed in no rush to ingratiate himself with his new employers.
“And where will I live?”
“In your own quarters, within the palace.”
“And where will Ash live?”
“Also, in her own quarters.”
“Alone? Or with you?”
“Good grief. Alone, man! Do we really have to bring your boy with? The carriage would really be much less crowded with three.”
“Derrick is the one who invented most of the weapons.”
“And I want to make sure we are both treated correctly –”
“Derrick, shut up or I’ll leave you here.”
“How do you get him to shut up, just out of interest’s sake?”
Ash sighed. “Feeding him works, usually.”
Needless to say, the carriage had arrived not a minute too soon, although everyone seemed to make their way rather slowly to it. Once there, Ash took her sister’s shoulders in her hands and looked hard at her.
“Vee, we are going to send a carriage for you and Stepmother as well. Alright? A nice one. I’ll come myself.”
She took her sister’s face in her hands – still beautiful, in spite of it all. Ash forced herself to look at both Vanita’s remaining eye and the bandaged gash. “Soon. I promise. Take care of your mother until then.”
Vanita smiled a small smile back. “I promise I won’t die. And if you die, I will take care of Mother and all the house and everything if you’re gone.”
A shiver ran through Ash. There was no way Vanita could possibly know her and Derrick’s words. It was just a coincidence. She kissed her sister and turned away.
Both the prince and Derrick standing at the carriage, waiting for her. The duke seemed to be hovering at her shoulder without much reason, peering at Vanita as if she were his sister not hers. “The soldiers will be here directly, my lady. Will you be alright until then? I can always wait with you?”
“Lorin there won’t be space for you in that carriage. Now come on.”
Yesterday Ash would have said something sharply overprotective to the duke about how he gazed at Vanita and shuffled him away, but that seemed a lifetime ago. She walked to the coach without any more goodbyes – any feeling of goodbye and she would never leave this, leave Rhodopalais, her home. It was time to get up out of the ashes, for this country to be a thing of beauty again. And if Cinderella herself was long gone, who else was there?
Ash looked back at her sister, her somewhat-mother, her home as the carriage set off. Even long after they passed through the gates she closed her eyes and looked at them, standing there, in her mind’s eye. When she opened her eyes and took in the scenery around her again, she imagined it reborn again into a world of green.
THE END… FOR NOW.
Acknowledgements
Here in Africa, we have a saying: it takes a village to raise a child. Well, it takes a village to raise a book to maturity too. My heartfelt appreciation goes out to my family and to the two champions of my heart, my amazing husband, and my business partner. Thanks for your support, for countless cups of tea and tentative suggestions.
Thank you to Dee, the best editor in the multiverse and my ‘ideal reader’ Chloe. Especial thanks to the immensely visually talented Rox Palmer. You guys made this book.
To all my beta readers’ help, you are legends! Especial thanks go out to Lameez, Murry, Elaine Dodge and Daniella Chapman. Kind agreements from Claire Davis, Jeru and Daniel led to sterling reviews that managed to defy the universe by being useful and encouraging simultaneously. Thank you!
Lastly but not even remotely leastly, thank you for you. A book is a waste of trees and pixels without someone to read the words and feel the feels, make it their own and take it to new heights. It’s an honour to write for you.
Please turn the page for your own super special free sample of the sequel to Ash Rising, Ashes Slowly Fall, next!
Free Sample: Ashes Slowly Fall
The body moves like a dream dying and it, rather than the mind, wakes me up.
There is only movement, only instinct now. Not memory, not yet. Somewhere within the yellowed, deep cartilaginous remains of my brain the fires of consciousness are stirring. They want me to move, need to move, they say.
I gather my strength. The hollows of mind form a message that sluggishly travels along the fibres and the sinews of what makes up the rest of my world. Still, I am groggily exultant. Still me, still mine. The gnarled hands and their overlong nails stretch like a miracle, responding to the message, and something within me relaxes.
Still mine.
Now, the pieces can slowly come back. I remember that this is my adopted home, what is left of it. I remember that the pale, half-drawn shape looking down is my daughter, what is left of her. Her face asks a question without words, but I am tired now, and it is enough to know that I am not gone yet.
CHAPTER ONE
The corpses looked up at the shattered remains of mansion and sky. One or two looked another way, necks broken to the side, toward the one-eyed lady sitting, composed by panting, on a chaise lounge in the middle of the rubble.
Vanita had sat down for a moment to rest. Disposing of the dead was hard work. Sweat trickled down in rivulets, past the place where her one eye should have been, down into the bony remains of her body in her too-big bodice. Ash would have been done by now, but there was no Ash anymore. There was only her, her and what was left of Mother, and the rising smell of rotting men’s meat.
Sighing, Vanita gathered her strength again, and reached for the nearest corpse’s hand. When she felt strong enough, she hoisted herself and dragged the body slowly to the where she had laid the other three, out outside the house where she didn’t have to see them.
“Mother, stay out of the pools of blood.”
“Hmm hmm” said her mother, drifting absently between the bodies in a weaving pattern that existed only in her head. Her sanity had not returned in the minutes, hours, since the events that were so huge in Vanita’s mind they couldn’t possibly have happened just this morning. Instead, she had begun aimlessly weaving in between the corpses in a looping pattern. It reminded Vanita of Ash’s mother. Although she had never met her, the noblewoman’s death was still fresh when Vanita had arrived at Rhodopalais, and one of her dying wishes had been that a servant read a story from her curious Bible text each morning. In it, there was the story of a man whom God had made a pact with by cutting several animals in half, including a bird, and walking in amongst the remains in a figure of eight pattern. The symbol for covenant. She hadn’t liked that story when she was little, and she liked it less now.
“Mother, go and sit down. I’m going to. I don’t know how much longer I can stand.”
The shock was there still for Vanita. The shock of finding her eye gone and her body irredeemably scarred, so wounded she had almost died. Then the contorted rage in the sunken faces
of the mob that had broken into their home, the icy feeling of their steel against her throat as her sister watched on. The prince and, oh heavens, the duke… Then the mind-reeling black mass of the giant bird crashing through the ceiling, blocking out all else.
It had all been too much. She was ashamed to admit it, but the first thing Vanita had done when the carriage was out of sight was sink onto the only daybed still standing near enough by and wish to fall asleep and, when she awakened, for fairies or elves or some other nonsense to have come and taken care of this mess. But when she put her head down a pain has flashed like lightning through the half of her skull where her eye had been ripped out, and sleep would not come, could not, to those who had not yet honoured their dead.
Vanita did not care about the festering bodies of the oafs that had tried to kill them, but she did care about Tansy. She would not let her lie open to the sun, uncared for, the way Ash had described seeing corpses lying outside every other day. And so slowly, Vanita had pulled the white lengths of cloth off of some of the disused furniture. Slowly, she had lowered her aching body down to the floor and wrapped Tansy up and held onto her as she never had in life. Then she had dragged the body out beyond the rubble to spot where flowers had once grown in the garden. A pansy for Tansy. But there were no flowers now, and so she had taken dried bits of twig, and whatever wood that had fallen from the ceiling which she could lift and had dragged them over and made a lopsided mound of sticks around a girl she could not believe was no longer alive. She mumbled what words she knew of prayer from her sister over the sticks and had turned away.
“Come Mother, come inside. Yes, inside… Remember?”
The older woman bucked and stared at her as though she were an insolent servant. She had never seen the lines on her mother’s face so clearly before. “Come now Mother, shall we sit?”
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