by Jordan Rivet
“I like your plan, Princess,” Commander Brach said at last. “I am willing to withdraw from the Far Plains to seal this peaceful arrangement. However, if your brother fails to defend Fort Brach from the Lantern Maker, the deal is off.”
“He’ll save it,” Selivia said. “I know he will.”
“Good.” Brach sighed and leaned back in his chair as if a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders. “And so ends my glorious campaign. I hope Latch appreciates the deal you made for him. I doubt he ever expected to marry such a princess.”
“Oh, he’ll love Sora!” Selivia said. “She’s wonderfully smart. She can be bossy sometimes, but she’s also kind, and she has very pretty—”
“Sora?” Commander Brach chuckled. “Who said anything about Sora?”
“What?”
“I will only agree to this deal if you are the one to marry Latch, Princess Selivia.”
“Me marry . . .”
“When you negotiate deals of this scale, you must be prepared to fulfill the bargain yourself,” Commander Brach said. “I have always fought my battles alongside my men. Now you will do the same.” He raised an eyebrow. “Unless you want to back out of the agreement?”
Selivia gaped at him, utterly at a loss for words. Had she just bargained away her own hand in marriage, making the kind of alliance she had railed against her entire life? That’s what you get for going off script.
She fidgeted with her teacup, noting the delicate swirling patterns of iridescent green and purple. She truly did want peace. She hated all the death and destruction that resulted when men tried to snatch power with steel, Watermight, and Fire. The Amintelles had been famous for their goodness and their peacemaking. She had a chance to bring about peace in her own small way. How could she say no?
“We have a deal.” Selivia was proud that her voice didn’t shake. “After I turn eighteen, I will marry your son.”
“Then the Brachs and Amintelles are officially allies. May we bring peace between Soole and Vertigon as well.” Commander Brach took the cup from Selivia and gripped her small hands firmly in his large, callused ones. “I shall welcome you to my family and protect you as my own daughter—providing your brother does the same for me and mine.”
“He will,” Selivia said.
“Good. Now, would you like to join me for lunch? I’ll have something sent to your dragon companion as well.”
“You . . . you don’t think we should get in touch with Siv and Latch first?”
“All in good time.” Commander Brach smiled broadly. “I only wish I could see the look on my prodigal son’s face when he finds out he’s going to be married.”
9.
Fork Town
VINE delivered the news in Fork Town. After leaving the Darkwood at last, they planned to spend the night in the infamous town and ride north through Kurn Pass if Brach said no and east along the Coast Road to Soole if he said yes. Siv would much rather face the Lantern Maker from behind the walls of the fort than on the open plains of Trure, and he breathed a huge sigh of relief when Vine reported that Commander Brach had accepted the alliance. His one-time kidnappers had spoken of the elusive Brach with respect bordering on reverence. He needed the man for an enemy like he needed a plateful of Fireroot for breakfast.
“There’s a catch,” Vine said, before Siv could pour himself a double portion of Fork Town wine to toast the good news. She surveyed the group gathered in the private dining room of the inn—called the Waterlord’s End. Dara sat on the arm of the low couch, twirling a spiral of Fire over her hands. She was always practicing now that she had Rumy back. The cur-dragon himself was curled up on the thick rug. Vex, Rid, and Lian sat at the polished table playing mijen, while Latch stared moodily out the window at the Fork.
Despite the urge to pace as if his life depended on it, Siv had forced himself to sit and listen to Vine’s report with a moderate amount of kingly dignity. He gestured for her to proceed.
“Princess Selivia had to make certain . . . concessions to get Brach to take the bargain.”
“Is she okay?” Siv leapt to his feet. Forget kingly dignity.
“She conducted herself admirably,” Vine said. “She showed a maturity that went beyond what we expected of her.”
She looked over at Latch, her expression unreadable. He had been moodier than ever lately. The proposed alliance with his estranged father didn’t exactly thrill him.
Vine put herself between Siv and Latch before continuing. “Selivia has secured a marriage alliance between the Amintelles and the Brachs.”
Siv felt as if he’d been punched in the gut. After all this time, did he really have to marry some foreign noblewoman? Dara’s face remained expressionless, but the spiral of Fire on her palm grew jagged edges. The thought of not getting to be with her after all they had been through made jagged edges grow in his chest too.
But it was Latch, not Siv, that Vine was watching with the most apprehension.
She cleared her throat delicately then said in a rush, “Selivia agreed to marry Latch in order to preserve the peace between the Brachs of Soole and the Amintelles of Vertigon for decades to come. It is the only condition under which Commander Brach will withdraw his army.”
Dead silence spread through the dining room as even Dara’s spiny Fireblossom stopped spinning.
Marriage? Selivia and Latch . . . married?
Suddenly, a great clatter made everyone jump. Rid had accidentally knocked over a pile of mijen tiles. The sound unfroze Siv’s brain, and he looked over at Latch silhouetted in front of the window. He appeared even more shocked than Siv felt.
What was Sel thinking? She’s just a kid.
“My father suggested this, didn’t he?” Latch said at last, a muscle pulsing in his jaw.
“He wanted additional assurances before relinquishing his strategic position,” Vine said. “But the marriage was Princess Selivia’s idea.”
“She’s only fourteen,” Dara said.
“Weren’t you saying she’d be a good person to conduct this negotiation just a few days ago?” Captain Lian said. Dara shot him one of her intense death stares, and he became very interested in the fallen mijen tiles.
“Naturally, the marriage wouldn’t take place until after her eighteenth birthday,” Vine said. She gave Latch a winning smile. “You’ll have plenty of time to get to know each other before the princess comes of age.”
Siv had a sudden, overwhelming urge to punch Latch in the head, even though he knew Latch didn’t like this idea either. He hated to admit it, but the alliance made a lot of sense the more he thought about it. It could be the check they needed on Commander Brach’s ambitions for years to come. Siv and his sisters had known about the importance of strategic marriages for royal offspring all their lives. Still, he hated to commit his sister to such a fate so young—even if it had been her idea.
“Why can’t he marry Sora?” Siv said. “She’s eighteen now, and she actually has some interest in Soole.” If Sora had to marry a Soolen nobleman, he’d rather it be Latch than the Crown Prince she’d had her eye on last year.
“Apparently, Selivia made quite the impression on Commander Brach,” Vine said. “Having her arrive on the back of a wild true dragon was even more effective than we predicted. Besides, I told you she’s charming.”
“He just wants to force me to do his bidding,” Latch said. “Bastard.”
“Now, now,” Vine said. “I think you’ll find that Princess Selivia is a very sweet—”
“I don’t care if she has lips made of sunshine,” Latch muttered.
“Be careful how you talk about my sister.” Siv glared at Latch, who scowled right back. He was a decent man—but that didn’t mean Siv wanted him anywhere near either of his kid sisters. He couldn’t condemn bubbly, joyful little Sel to a life with his surly friend. Still, they were short on options.
“We could call off the detour to Fort Brach,” Dara said. “There’s still time to catch my father north of the Lin
den Mountains.”
“We need the Brach Watermight,” Siv said. He may not like it, but he needed to choose the wisest course. The end goal was still to defeat the Lantern Maker and return to Vertigon, but they couldn’t leave the Lands Below in turmoil. He tried to imagine what his father would do in these circumstances. “If we say no, we’ll still have to deal with Commander Brach after your father. This is the best way to avoid more destruction.”
“Isn’t anyone going to ask whether I consent to this marriage?” Latch said tersely.
“No,” Siv snapped. “You demanded we save your fort. You’ve already had your say.”
“No need to be hostile, Your Majesty,” Vine sang. She still hadn’t relinquished her position between the two men.
Siv folded his arms over his chest to keep from gripping his sword hilt. “If my sister is willing to sacrifice her whole future for peace, then he had better be willing to do it as well.”
“Oh yeah?” Latch took a step toward him, ignoring Vine bobbing between them. “You’re not my king, in case you forgot.”
Siv stood a little straighter, using every inch of his height advantage. “I’m the leader of this expedition.”
“I don’t remember agreeing to that,” Latch said. “I haven’t had much of a say about anything lately.”
“You want to go defend the fort alone? Be my guest.”
Siv marched to the door and flung it open with so much force it crashed into the wall. Fiz Timon stood outside, his hand half raised to knock.
“Sorry to interrupt.”
Siv had never seen the man look so sheepish. “What is it?”
“Scouts are back from Kurn Pass,” Fiz said. “The Fireworkers are moving faster than we thought. If we’re going to beat them to Latch’s home, we should leave now.”
Siv turned back to the dining room.
“What’ll it be, Latch?”
“Oh, now you’re asking me?”
“Isn’t that what you wanted?”
“Will you two stop being children?” Dara stood up, still contorting Fire above her hands. She had molded it into a tiny gold dragon while they spoke. “Selivia and Commander Brach have already agreed.”
“Fine,” Latch said, throwing up his hands. “I’m going to collect my things.”
He marched out the door, bumping Siv roughly with his shoulder as he passed.
“You do that!” Siv shouted at his back. “And you’d better watch your attitude. Brother.”
Latch paused long enough to make a rude gesture over his shoulder.
10.
Warnings
SORA awoke before dawn with the phrase ringing in her head again.
“You have no idea what’s coming.”
Lima’s words had been bothering Sora since the arrest in the Great Hall a week ago. The triumph in Lima’s eyes had been utterly joyless when she hissed those words in the shadowy chamber. At first, Sora had assumed this was a scare tactic, but she had seen what happened when rulers ignored warnings. She couldn’t sleep with the uneasy feeling that she had missed something important. She’d also heard nothing from Rafe Ruminor indicating he cared whether Sora or Lima was in charge in the week since the change. Rafe got all his Fire from the mountain, and it made her nervous that he was so willing to leave it unattended.
As much as Sora wanted to stay in her room in case Kel dropped by to have breakfast with her—a regular occurrence now—she dragged herself from her warm bed and descended through the castle.
“You have no idea what’s coming.”
Lima had some explaining to do. Sora only hoped she could get her to talk.
The little-used dungeon was located down a different tunnel than the cur-dragon’s cavern. Yuri saluted from his post by the door as Sora approached.
“Has anyone tried to visit her over the past few days?”
“No, my queen. She has seen no one.” Yuri’s red beard twitched. “Didn’t expect you down here so early.”
Sora blinked. “Why not?”
“I reckoned what with you and Kel . . .” Yuri trailed off when he saw the look Sora was giving him—part disapproval, part mortification. “Beg pardon, my queen. It’s early is all.”
Sora cleared her throat, wishing she wasn’t on such familiar terms with her guards for once. “She hasn’t spoken to Master Corren?”
“Nope. We have a guard posted by the guest chamber, just in case.”
“Thank you.”
Sora put a hand on the door to Lima’s cell and paused. “Does everyone know?”
Yuri’s cheeks went as red as his beard. “We’re all rooting for you, my queen,” he said. “And yeah, we kind of thought it was about time.”
“That will be all, Yuri.”
“Yes, my queen.”
Sora put the guards and their gossip from her mind as she entered the cell. She also put Kel from her mind—a task that was significantly more difficult. Maybe they shouldn’t have been enjoying quite so many early-morning breakfasts.
Bars separated a small antechamber from the windowless cell. Lima sat on the simple cot as if it were a throne. She had been well fed, and she was clearly taking care to wash and keep her clothes tidy. She had a board with drawing paper on her knees, and she appeared to be sketching designs for new Fire Lanterns. She didn’t look up when Sora entered.
“I need answers,” Sora said.
“Answers won’t help you, child,” Lima said.
“Why not?”
Lima didn’t respond. Sora strode up to the cell bars and looked down at her. Even now, she had to summon her courage to come this close. Lima hadn’t lost an ounce of her haughty cruelty.
“You said I have no idea what’s coming,” Sora prompted. “You must tell me what you meant . . . for the good of Vertigon.”
“Vertigon?” Lima snorted. “I suppose you think this city is yours because you outmaneuvered me.”
“You think it’s not?”
Lima continued to work on her sketch.
Sora fought down a flash of irritation. She didn’t actually think her victory was complete yet. Rafe was still leading her army on a whirlwind of destruction in the Lands Below. Last she heard, he had driven Commander Brach’s mysterious magic wielders from Rallion City, and he was marching inexorably toward Soole with his Fire Weapons. She hadn’t even begun to figure out how she’d deal with the Lantern Maker himself, but she got the feeling that was not what Lima was talking about.
“Madame Ruminor? Why isn’t the city mine?”
Lima looked up at last, as proud and cold as ever.
“You will see,” she said.
“What does that mean?”
Lima didn’t answer.
“I need to know about this threat,” Sora said, “no matter what it takes to get you to talk. Does it have something to do with the Soolens?”
Lima remained silent.
“I don’t have time for games.” Sora knotted her hands in her skirt, fighting for calm. She felt as though she were the one trapped in the cell.
“Games are all that you have been playing,” Lima said. “You have played well, but it won’t matter in the end.”
“Why?”
“Because this is a world with power.” Abruptly, Lima stood up and advanced toward the bars. “Not the power of money or kingdoms. Real power. Magic. Why do you think I have been allied with the Fireworkers for all my days? I don’t have an ounce of the Spark, but I know that the raw, tangible power of the Fire will always win. You saw it yourself. Corren was the one in control. Not you and your loyal guards. Not me.” Her lips twisted bitterly. “Corren, the man who has been my right hand for years.”
“You’re saying the Fireworkers will still defeat me?”
“I’m saying you will never stand against Fire. That is the only power that matters.”
Sora could see Lima’s logic, but the world was more complicated than that. The raw force of the Fire may be the strongest power, but it still had to be Wielded. There had to be
people behind the power, and people could be influenced, persuaded, corrupted, even redeemed. Lima had always been preoccupied with the Fire—the power she didn’t possess—but she had been undone by a person.
“You’re wrong,” Sora said. “My father made mistakes in how he handled the Fireworkers, but he had a few things right too. Wielders are not the only people who deserve influence. We’ve seen how things get out of hand if they have too much power.”
“It will make no difference, child.” Lima’s voice dropped to a whisper, and a chill curled along Sora’s spine. “Follow your father’s model if you wish. It won’t save you from what is coming. You cannot stop it. I’m almost looking forward to seeing you try.”
“Don’t waste energy looking forward to things unless you intend to give me the information I require.” Sora stepped right up to the bars, bringing her nose within inches of Lima. “You committed treason.” She spoke quietly, clearly. “You conspired against me and killed my allies. You plotted my father’s murder. You will be sentenced to death, Lima Ruminor, and no power on or off this mountain will save you.”
Lima smiled down at her, dark glee flickering in her eyes. Then she returned to her cot and bent over her lantern drawings once more. “As I said: you have no idea what’s coming.”
Sora waited until she had left the cell and marched out of Yuri’s sight before she released her grip on her skirt. She leaned against the wall, forcing herself to breathe deeply. Why did Lima still have the power to terrify her so much? Sora had won. Lima was defeated. And yet she couldn’t help feeling Lima was telling the truth. Something was coming—and when it arrived, there might be nothing she could do to stop it.