Roh had only ever seen wildlife like this in books before. She breathed in every detail. It was a different kind of magic out here. She stretched out her legs, trying to rub the ache from her stiffening muscles. There, as the hours passed, the sunlight streamed into the entrance of the passageway, hitting her skin, soaking it in warmth. Although the absence of music had left a hole in her chest, the woodland offered a natural rhythm of its own, and the sun’s rays seeping into her skin left her feeling content and sleepy, despite her worries. But as the sun moved across the glade and the hours started to pass quickly, Roh’s fears crept back in, stronger and darker than ever. She wondered where Odi was now, and if he’d yet made the decision to betray her. How long would she wait? How long would she wait before she turned back to the network of tunnels and Saddoriel, defeated? Chilled, she rubbed her arms, watching the pattern of light become dappled across the woodland ground, the warmth receding from the mouth of the cave. Without the shafts of golden sunlight and nature’s creatures to distract her, the wait turned torturous, and as was her habit, Roh’s treacherous mind began to spiral.
Night fell and beyond the treetops Roh saw her first sliver of moonlight: a yellow smile against the inky-blue sky, and a smattering of stars. She longed to leave the confines of the cave, to find an open clearing and see the whole thing for herself. But her willpower and ambition had held fast all day, and would do so all night if need be. When she was crowned victor of the tournament, Queen of the Cyrens … Then she could see the sky whenever she wished, she promised herself as another hour passed without Odi’s return.
Roh’s breath turned to cloud before her face as night well and truly set in. She sniffed the air – the wind carried the promise of rain, though she wasn’t sure how she knew that. It was instinct, as though she could hear its song in the distance. Shivering, Roh wrapped her cloak around herself tightly, not that it did much good. The woodland offered a new array of sounds in the darkness. Something hooted in the near distance and she could hear scurrying amongst the leaves. Lighting her torch, Roh cupped her hands around the small flame and thought of her friends in the workshop back home, feeling the sudden sting of senseless envy. And it was senseless. It had been her choice to separate from them. They were doing nothing wrong, nothing malicious. They were simply carrying on, as they had to. Deep in her bones, Roh knew no blame lay with them, but it didn’t shake the pain of knowing they were together without her. Despite what she’d done to secure her place in the tournament, she envied the closeness that was so clearly developing between Harlyn and Orson in her absence. She recalled hearing the notes of Orson’s deathsong for the first time, not by being at her side, but from where she had been hidden away in the shadows. The memory revived yet another ache in Roh’s chest – the lack of her own deathsong.
Finn and Zokez’s taunts haunted her. ‘I heard a tale … about a little cyren who doesn’t know a note of her deathsong …’
It had been many moons, perhaps even longer, since she’d last tried to find that sense of self within, the one that transformed into a storm of cyren magic, the chaos of song. Ames had continually told her to be patient, that he’d known cyrens to remain songless until they reached their first century, but patience had never been one of Roh’s stronger virtues. She had always dismissed those tales, like Harlyn, refusing to be one of those cyrens. She didn’t understand why she couldn’t find her deathsong before her eighteenth name day.
Roh cleared her throat and straightened her posture. Who am I? It was one of the first things they were taught in lessons, that the knowledge of who they were, and their own magical potential, was vital to discovering their deathsong. Roh settled against the cave wall. She tried to find a meditative state, inhaling steadily through her nose and exhaling through her mouth, blocking the sounds of the night-time woodland. The way she imagined it, the note would bloom in her chest, where she felt the melodies of the lair hit home. Music was a part of a cyren’s soul, so it made sense that the note would originate from her heart. She concentrated deeply. I am Rohesia of the Bone Cleaners. I am Rohesia of the Bone Cleaners. The words were a chorus in her mind and still, she felt nothing. Not a stirring, not a whisper of a note from within. I am Rohesia of the Bone Cleaners. She opened her mouth, calling upon her cyren instincts. A strangled noise escaped her. Her face burned deeply, despite the lack of audience. She had been to many a deathsong lesson, she knew everything her friends knew about the subject, she understood it just as well as they did, so why couldn’t she manage a note?
She tried again.
The same wretched sound followed. Exasperated, Roh threw her hands up. She had always thought she’d known who she was, and exactly what she wanted. It was simple enough, wasn’t it? At least it seemed so for everyone else. But her lack of deathsong told a different story. Perhaps … perhaps she didn’t know herself at all.
Muttering one of Odi’s curses, she got to her feet and turned back to the immediate task at hand. She had no way of knowing how many hours had passed. She had no timepiece like the highborns kept in their pockets, had never been taught the movement of sun and moon, or enchanted sun and moon in her case. Her stomach grumbled and she reluctantly fished through the rucksack Odi had left behind, finding some wrapped cured meat and a water skein. Seething silently, she watched the night sky, cursing its crisp air and glittering stars. Midway through a resentful bite of meat, she saw a flash. A bright streak across the inky canvas, leaving a trail of light in its wake.
Roh was still gaping at the stripe of gold when something rustled. Something was moving out there. Something bigger than a woodland rodent or bird. Her talons flashed and she pressed herself to the wall of the cave, staring out into the darkness, waiting.
Chapter Sixteen
‘Odi.’ His name tasted like relief on Roh’s tongue. She sheathed her talons and took a step towards him. She didn’t know how long he’d been gone, and it didn’t matter now.
He was here.
At last, the giant weight sitting atop her chest dissipated and her shoulders sagged as she released a long exhale of tension. Odi approached her through the velvety darkness, a huge sack slung across his back and another pack strapped across his chest.
‘You’re here.’ The words came out as a croak and Roh wasn’t sure he’d heard her.
In the torchlight, Odi’s cheeks were pink and his brow was damp with perspiration. ‘Sorry I’m late,’ he puffed. ‘They’d moved the wires and I spent ages trying to find the hammers and felt.’
‘Hammers? Felt?’ Those items had not been agreed upon, had not been on the list of things to retrieve from the human realms. All the same, she offered him the water skein.
‘Well, I was there, so I thought I’d get whatever else would make the piano as authentic as possible.’
Roh blinked away her shock. Maybe I have instilled some sort of loyalty in him? Fighting the instinct to rush them towards Saddoriel, she cleared her throat. ‘Right … You … you should sit down and rest a while, before we head back.’
‘I can manage,’ Odi said.
Roh shook her head. ‘You’ll need all your wits for the lair.’ She took the sack from his shoulder, placing it carefully on the tunnel floor, and did the same with the other bag. ‘Sit,’ she told him.
Noting her steely gaze, Odi gave in, sinking to the ground with a groan and stretching out his long legs. He pointed to the bag he’d brought. ‘In that side pocket there,’ he said, ‘there’s a flask.’
Frowning, Roh crouched and opened the buttoned compartment, rummaging until she took out a flask. ‘What’s this?’
Odi gave a rare grin. ‘Rum.’
Roh tossed the flask to him, and he caught it, still grinning. Removing the cork with his teeth, he took a long swig and smacked his lips. ‘Gotta celebrate those little victories, too, right?’
Roh slid down the wall beside him, crossing her legs beneath her, and accepted the flask from his outstretched hand, the liquid sloshing within. The sharp smell filled her
nostrils as she put the mouthpiece to her lips and drank. The syrupy liquid that hit her tongue was complex, harsh at first, but with a sweet finish reminiscent of toffee. She took another sip.
Odi laughed. ‘Good, huh?’
Roh took another swig, savouring the rich flavour, and handed the flask back to Odi. ‘You should get some rest,’ she said.
Odi shrugged. ‘Don’t think I’ll be able to sleep just yet. My heart’s still pounding from racing through the woods.’
‘You ran?’
‘Where I could. I didn’t want you to think that I’d left for good … Did you?’
Roh couldn’t stop the hint of a smile that tugged at the corner of her mouth. ‘Not for a second.’
‘Liar.’
Roh laughed, the sound rising along with the weight from her chest. ‘Maybe.’
Accepting another swig from the flask, Roh met Odi’s gaze with a serious expression. ‘Did you see your father?’ she asked quietly.
‘I did.’
‘And?’
‘All is fine.’
Roh clicked her tongue in frustration. ‘You’ve been gone for some time. What did you tell him?’
Odi removed his fingerless gloves and began to knead the lines of his palm with his thumb, flexing his fingers as he did, as though working out a familiar ache. He looked up at Roh through his dark fringe. ‘I told him I was helping a friend.’
Roh held his gaze, not sure if it was the rum or the sentiment filling her chest with warmth. ‘Thank you,’ she managed, not quite knowing what to say next. Her mind scrambled. ‘Is … is your father well?’
Odi smiled, continuing to massage his hands. ‘He’s well enough. Lonely, perhaps.’
‘What of your stepbrothers? And stepmother?’
‘My stepbrothers aren’t around so much. They travel a lot. And my stepmother … She busies herself with running the business side of my father’s shop. She enjoys counting gold more than she enjoys my father’s company these days.’
Roh produced the leftover cured meat from her pack and passed it to him. ‘You should eat something.’
‘You’re probably right,’ Odi allowed, replacing the cork in the flask and accepting the parcel from her. ‘Do you have any siblings?’
Roh laughed darkly. ‘None that I’m aware of. But who knows? As you’ve probably gathered, my parentage is something of a mystery.’ She waited for Odi to press her like Harlyn so often did, but he just gave a nod, flexing his fingers with a grimace before picking at the food.
‘Are you injured?’ Roh asked, frowning at his hands.
‘No, no,’ he told her, pulling his half-gloves back on. ‘The muscles and joints in my hands, sometimes they ache. My father thinks it’s because of the work I do. These gloves you hate’ – he wriggled his fingers at her pointedly – ‘the warmth from them helps the stiffness.’
‘Have you seen a healer?’
‘Once or twice. But a healer can’t do much for you if you insist on doing the thing that inflicts the damage repeatedly, can they?’
Roh shrugged. ‘S’pose not. Are you any good, then? At this work you do?’
Odi snorted. ‘Bit late to be asking that, isn’t it?’ Smiling, he continued. ‘We’re very good. People travel to the Isle of Dusan from all over the realms to have us mend and create their instruments.’
‘Is that so?’
‘We’ve had royal commissions before. Made pianos for princesses and such.’
‘I had no idea I had such an esteemed human in my company,’ Roh said dryly.
‘At your service, my lady.’ Odi flashed another grin and gave a flourish with his hand, before turning serious once again. ‘What about you? Have you always wanted to enter this … tournament?’
Roh nodded vigorously. ‘Always. Ever since I first found out about it.’
‘For what? Glory? Fame? To be part of history?’
‘To be queen,’ Roh corrected him, frowning. With the words said aloud, her ambition hung naked between them, bare and vulnerable. Never before had she stated it so bluntly, never before had she offered up that secret piece of herself she had cradled and fed carefully for over a decade. And Roh hadn’t realised how isolating that sort of ambition was, not really. She hadn’t noticed the impenetrable walls that had built up around her, not only locking others out, but also caging her in.
‘The ruler of cyrens is granted access to the Tome of Kyeos, an enchanted book that knows all. It can tell me … everything. Exactly what happened the night my mother became Saddoriel’s prisoner. Who my father was. Who my family is. Who I am. And I need to know who I am, Odi, my deathsong demands it. And to know all that, I have to be queen.’
She half expected him to laugh; many others would if they ever heard a bone cleaner of Saddoriel say such a thing. She knew what it sounded like: the faraway dream of a child, and it had certainly started off that way. But along with her, it had grown into something far more, something that mattered so fiercely to her that she would do anything to protect it. She already had.
Odi didn’t laugh. His amber gaze told Roh that he knew what it was like to want something that much. ‘If you’re crowned queen …’ he said slowly.
‘Yes?’
His eyes met hers. ‘If you’re crowned queen, will you let me go?’
‘Let you go?’
Odi nodded. ‘Will you set me free from Talon’s Reach?’
Roh spotted the sack of wires in the corner of her eye and recalled Odi’s flushed face from running back to her. She pictured the body of the piano they had already built and remembered how Odi always gave her the bigger chunk of bread. With a quiet sigh, she touched a finger to the fresh scar on her cheek.
‘When I’m crowned queen,’ she said, ‘I will grant you your freedom.’
Odi exhaled shakily. ‘I have your word?’
‘You have my word.’ Roh offered her hand, as Odi had done.
He took it in his half-gloved grip and shook it.
Roh nodded once. ‘Now get some rest.’
At last, the human leaned his head against the cave wall and closed his eyes.
Descending the steep incline of the passageway was just as hard as climbing it. Roh found her thighs burning and her toes hitting the front of her boots painfully as she tilted backwards, trying not to lose her balance and go tumbling down into the darkness. She carried the giant sack of wires across her shoulder blades and the bag of hammers over her chest, having insisted that Odi had carried them all day. But she hadn’t realised how heavy they were; one wrong step and she would plummet down the steep gradient. They were moving faster, however, so she didn’t complain.
The lair’s tunnels swallowed them as though they had never seen the outside realm, as though the feeling of the sun warming Roh’s skin with its golden kiss was a distant dream. The passageways seemed darker than before, and the torch Odi held behind her only illuminated a few steps ahead of them. Frustrated, Roh lit another, despite it being difficult to hold with the additional cargo. Her inner compass pointed true. Now they had what they needed, Roh’s sole focus was to get back to Saddoriel, to build the piano with Odi and win. The pace she set for them was gruelling, but she was determined to make good time. She needed to buy them as many hours as possible to complete their task. Odi kept up with her. With her promise echoing between them, he was just as invested in the outcome of the trial.
The tunnels of Talon’s Reach lured them in and Roh recognised the numerous landmarks as they passed: the glowing coral trails, the pockets of willow trees, the caves filled with valo beetles amongst the stalactites. But on the previous journey, in her desperation to get to the human realms, she hadn’t noticed the veil. In a cavern just off the main passage, it glimmered between the dark walls: a veil of magic between Roh and the sea. Unlike the one she’d seen after the first trial, this veil was familiar to her. She didn’t notice the steps she took towards it, its magic and the power of the sea beyond calling to her. The smell was what triggered her memory. It
wafted through the water and the portal to fill her nostrils: a subtle, bittersweet tang. She’d know it anywhere, especially after finding it in Odi’s wine goblet. This was where she, Harlyn and Orson had come as youngsters, when they had drawn the short straw to harvest the lethal coral larkspur. Peering down past the wavering sheet of water, Roh could see the field of the poisonous flowers across the seabed. Despite Ames’ insistent warnings, the trio had come here with excitement in their hearts, finally able to pass the threshold into the pulsing currents they’d so often dreamed of. She remembered what it had been like to dive through the veil, to feel the rush of cool water against her skin, against the glimmering scales at her temples —
‘Roh!’
Odi’s voice broke the spell and Roh found herself standing inches away from the veil, her hand outstretched.
‘What are you doing?’ Odi asked, catching up and pulling her back. ‘Is this the lure of the lair? I thought you were immune to it?’
Roh shook her head slowly, shocked she’d been so enraptured, and took a step away. ‘It’s not the lair … It’s … the call of the current. It whispers to us cyrens. The sea offers a different rhythm, a different music to that in Saddoriel. It … I can feel it in my bones. Anyway, I … I have a connection to this spot. I’ve been here before, with the others.’ In that moment, she missed Harlyn and Orson deeply, as though a part of herself had been wrenched from her, leaving a hole that could not be filled. She gasped at its presence, the void yawning wider and wider.
Odi tugged on her sleeve. ‘We have to get back, remember?’
Numbly, Roh allowed him to lead her away from the cavern, away from the veil and the current that called her name. She walked after him in a daze, letting the cool darkness of the passageway settle over her.
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