by Sarah Dalton
I watch Sasha nod firmly. Then I return the gesture.
Avery closes her eyes, and mumbles a few words in the Jakani language. When her eyes open, there is a glowing light running between us, as though we are connected by pure magic. A feeling of weightlessness grows in my chest, as though I am flying once more. But that lightness is soon replaced by a scorching heat. It rushes through me and into Sasha, where it explodes from the amulet and onto the Ember Stone. I watch in fascination as the bright orange flame filters into the Ember Stone, and tiny cracks begin to form along the surface, as though the flames are pushing through the diamond from the inside out. My hands and face begin to burn as the cracks expand until the diamond pulses with energy. I force myself to watch to ensure that Avery’s magic works, even though my eyes are sore from the bright light emitting from the gem. And then, in an eruption of flame, the diamond breaks into tiny shards, sprinkling down and glittering in the moonlight.
“It is done,” Avery says. “Collect the pieces and keep them safe. We have cleansed the stone of dark magic. But there is a little bit of light magic left in there which will help protect you from harm.” She smiles, her beautiful face warm and open. “The Ember Stone is no more. You fought well, Mae Waylander. You became the woman you needed to be, and now you will be both queen and mother; two wonderful roles. I will say my farewell and return to the world I must reside in.”
“You’re leaving?” The idea of her leaving feels suddenly frightening. I will miss her a great deal, and I hadn’t realised until then.
“I do not belong in this world,” she says. “But I will always be close to you.”
“Will I see you in my dreams?”
She flashes me a mischievous smile. “Perhaps.” And it is that smile that lasts as she fades away.
Chapter Thirty-Six – The Beginning
While our battle with the king is over, there is still an ongoing battle in Jakani, and only news of the king’s death will stop the fighting. I take the king’s ring from his ashes—along with some of his burned armour—and with Sasha at my side, I begin the walk back to the capital. My clouds have gone, letting the moon guide us towards the burning city. We are solemn as we approach, thinking of the innocents suffering at the wants of a madman. At least he is dead now.
“Do you think word of the sultan’s death will have reached the people?” Sasha asks.
“I would think so. But with the king’s men still attacking, only news of the king’s death will stop the violence,” I reply. “This is taking far too long. It’ll be hours before we get back.” And then I have an idea. I silently request a bird with my powers, and before long, one comes swooping down to land on my metal hand. It is a large bird of prey, exactly what is needed for the task. “Take these to Treowe. He will know what they mean.” The bird takes the ring in its beak, the torn armour containing the king’s crest in its talons, and then soars into the air.
“When are you next taking me flying?” Sasha asks with a glint in her eye.
She wraps an arm over my shoulder, and we watch as the fighting—and the fires—slowly but surely die out in the city of Jakani. By the time we reach the city walls, there is a strange quiet descended on the people.
As we make our way into the city, we see a Jakani soldier standing with his shoulders slumped, staring at his bloodied sword tossed onto the ground. I kneel next to him so I can use a little of my renewed strength to heal a cut on his arm. His eyes shine with recognition as his flesh stitches together.
“Is it true, Hada-Ya?” he asks. “Is the king finally dead?”
“It’s true. You can stop fighting now. Are you hurt anywhere else?”
The soldier shakes his head. “I will live. Not everyone here will.”
“Get word to your men, the wounded need to be collected and taken to healers. When the healing halls are filled, take them to the palace,” I say.
He nods and lifts his shoulders, a little light back in his eyes.
“They didn’t want to fight,” I say half to myself, turning my gaze to the rest of the city. Some of the men stand uselessly, staring at their hands or their weapons. Others tend to the wounded, even on opposing sides of the battle. “You can see it in their eyes. Soldiers without a worthy cause are just hired killers. They were too frightened to be anything else. Sometimes I think the sultan was as bad as the king. Come, let’s check on Treowe and then help with the wounded.”
But it is a slow journey back to the palace, for we are stopped every few steps by those who need our help. Soon we are bandaging wounds, mopping foreheads, and holding hands until help arrives. We find that we cannot pass those in need, and the entire time my throat burns with tears for the people who died so one man could barter for a jewel.
“So this is where yer are,” says a familiar voice.
I raise my head away from the small child I’m tending to, and find Treowe’s smiling face gazing down at me. He stands with his weight on one leg, clutching a cane in his hand.
“We were just coming to you, but there were so many wounded to tend to on the way.” I stand and pull him into a quick embrace. “You got my message?”
When I move away, Treowe’s cheeks are a flushed red colour and he runs a hand through his hair. He pulls an object from his pocket. “The king’s ring. As soon as I showed it to officials in the White Palace, they spread the word that he’s dead.”
I smile. “Thank you. I knew you would understand. And I’m so pleased that you are well. How is your leg?”
“It’s well, my queen.”
The word sends a shiver through my spine. “Not yet. I’m not queen yet.”
*
We stay in Jakani for one more day, but cannot rest any longer. Cyne is empty. There must be a figurehead placed on the throne, and if not me, then who? We leave the palace in the morning haze. Treowe asks if I would like to ride the same mare, but it’s then that I see Gwen in the stables and my heart pangs. When I go to stroke her nose, she glances over my shoulder waiting for him. I have to tell the mare that he will never come back again, and I have no way of knowing if she understands. When we leave, I saddle and ride Gwen, despite how much it hurts.
Our first stop is at Fordrencan, where we meet Allerton and Mushtan’s family. Allerton has arranged for us to collect Anta from his foster family. My stomach is jittery at the thought, and Gwen grows skittish as I tense. What if he doesn’t recognise me, or doesn’t want to leave?
Fordrencan is one of the larger towns south of Aberlock, and has a reputation for housing the bawdiest taverns. This reputation has led to the town becoming a favourite drinking spot for travellers. However, Fordrencan is also nestled in the rolling green hills, and happens to have rich soil. Many families tend the land, passing their farm down through the generations. It’s on one of the hills overlooking the patchwork of fields—some green, some yellow, some brown—that a tingling sensation runs up and down my arms: the feeling of coming home.
At one time, I might have thought the Haedalands were my home, or at least connected to me through my father and his ancestors. But even now, after learning I am descended from the Queen of Fire herself, I still see the green fields, tall forests, feel the cool sun on my face, and I know I am home. Now, I need to find the one constant in my life: my Anta. My White Hart.
As we come to the heart of the town, I dismount Gwen and follow Allerton down a dirt track towards a small thatched cottage next to a garden of poppies. My heart quickens, when I hear the roar. I hear his deep bray as he calls to me. There’s the sound of a child’s laughter, and I stop in my tracks as my white stag comes trotting around the side of the house, ridden by a tiny girl whose head is tipped back and smiling.
Anta’s coat shines silvery-white in the sunlight, and my eyes fill with tears when I see those jagged antlers reaching up to the sky. He is here, and he is well. I need only open my arms and wait for him to come to me. He slows to a walk, and then a stop, and his head lowers and rests against my shoulder. I scratch his ears
and rub his nose, my tears flowing down onto his coat. He nuzzles me for treats, and I’m ashamed to realise I have none, so I bend down and pull up some grass for him to chew.
“He’s missed you,” says the little girl. “He pined for you. Not a day went by that he didn’t paw at the straw in his stable.”
I wipe my eyes and collect myself. “Has he behaved?”
Her small face lights up. “Oh, yes. He has indeed. He has helped us plough the field, and he lets me ride him all the time.”
“So much for loyalty, eh, boy?” I tease the stag. He responds with a spray of snot covering my tunic. I laugh and wipe it away. “What’s your name, child?”
“Cassie,” she says.
The sound of her name makes me jolt. I blink away a few tears and scratch Anta’s neck. “How would you like to visit Anta in Cyne? You can play with him whenever you like.”
Cassie beams from ear to ear. “I would like that very much. Thank you for letting us look after him.”
“No, thank you for doing such a good job.” My voice is raw.
*
The closer we come to Cyne, the more the nerves jangle in my stomach. There is a tense meeting with the Duke of Benoth as we discuss the throne and the court. Working with General Alden, Cas’s Uncle has arrested all the known supporters of the king, and has taken control of the king’s guard. But a quick coronation is needed for the throne to be taken securely. I see his eyes—so like the queen’s—assessing me, judging me. Am I fit for the role? It is only when he witnesses the craft for himself that he finally seems to accept me.
We stop in Aberlock for two days, so that negotiations and treaties can be signed with the Duke of Benoth. It is in the back room of a tavern, amongst dim candlelight, that I discuss matters of the realm with the Duke.
“So it is settled then?” I say.
Mushtan sits on my right, and across the stained tavern table, the blue eyes of the Duke flash with formidable intelligence. Treowe, Allerton, and Sasha make up the rest of the group.
“If this is your wish, Hada-Ya,” Mushtan says with a tight smile.
“I know it is not what you expected, or wanted, and I know it is something that will be a heavy responsibility for your family, but I believe it is what is best for the Haedalands. You are respected in Jakani. Your family is powerful and wealthy. It makes sense for you to take over the sultan’s role,” I say.
“But I am not a sultan,” Mushtan says. “I have no claim to the throne.”
“You don’t have to be a sultan,” the Duke replies. “More a protector of the region. At least that is how we will sell it to the people.”
“They won’t accept it,” Mushtan says.
“They will be relieved not to be at war,” I reply. “At least for now. And Esther will help. She is your conscience.”
Mushtan half smiles, half frowns. I can’t help but hide a smirk. Esther and Mushtan clash, but do so in a good way. They challenge each other.
“I will be glad to serve you, Hada-Ya. Your presence joins the Haedalands and the north together. You have Jakani blood, you are descended from the Queen of Fire herself, and you will bring our warring countries together. You will be the first northern ruler that the Haedalands will accept. I know it.” Mushtan squeezes my forearm with his strong hand.
“Thank you for your kind words and loyalty. I will ensure your safety in Jakani with your own guards. I think you should include Aliyah in your guards. She is brave, and loyal, and she longs for adventure,” I say.
Mushtan nods. “That is in agreement.”
“And your court?” the Duke prompts.
“You will be my advisor,” I say, maintaining his eye-contact. “Along with Allerton and Sasha. I will need to meet with the queen’s allies when I get to Cyne.”
“Very well,” the Duke agrees.
“And Treowe will be my first knight,” I say.
“What?” The red-haired boy stares at me with wide eyes. “I’m a stable boy.”
“As well as a talented smith, a loyal servant, and a good fighter. You will train as a knight, and then you will be my bodyguard. You can work with General Alden, who will remain in Cyne until the city is safe from any dissenters.”
Treowe’s face glows scarlet in the candle light. “Thank you.”
When the details have been confirmed, I go to sleep with my head spinning with politics. It is new, but I am determined to learn. I am determined to rule, and I refuse to become a puppet for others to rule through me.
The Duke agrees to ride with us into Cyne as a show of allegiance. He has also agreed to vouch for my marriage to Cas, and when I tell him of the child, he nods thoughtfully. A child will help secure the throne. I carry royal blood. I hope that my daughter looks like her father, because that will go a long way to gaining support from the kingdom. Cas had always been well liked amongst the common folk. It was the king and Lyndon they despised.
On the morning we arrange to leave, Treowe taps me on the shoulder. His blue eyes are ringed with dark circles, and his hair is dishevelled.
“Are you well, Treowe? You seem as though you have not slept for days!” I remark.
He clears his throat. “I have been working on something for yer. I think you should wear this when you ride into Cyne.” It’s then I notice that he hides his hands behind his back. I watch as he draws them forward, holding a beautiful black crown with jagged peaks like antlers, or the branches in the Waerg Woods. “I hope Your Majesty will not be angry, but I may ‘ave stolen some gold from the Jakani palace. I mixed it with some of the diamond dust from the Ember Stone. Ah, please don’t be mad. I had a jaded past as a pick-pocket back in Cyne. Look, there are shards of the diamond embedded in the gold. See?”
I bend closer to the exquisite crown to see the way the light picks out the sparkling diamond shards. Treowe holds his breath as I examine his handiwork.
“It’s beautiful,” I say. “I would be proud to wear this.”
Treowe’s face lights up, as though I have just given him the world. “Thank yer.”
There is a dainty cough, and I pull my attention away from the crown to see Ellen holding a fine black cloak across her arms. “And I thought you should wear some finery. This is made with gold thread given to me by Aliyah when I left Asher. And the velvet I traded for in Fordrencan.”
I trace my fingers over the gold thread. Ellen has copied the style of symbols carved into my steel hand. They are in the Aelfen language, and make up the elements my magic is based on. A rush of emotion takes me by surprise, and I’m forced to turn away and brush tears from my cheeks.
“These are gifts I will treasure for as long as I live,” I say.
Ellen and Treowe both shine as though a light has illuminated them. I pull each of them into a hug.
“Are we leaving, or are you going to stand there blubbing all day?” a white haired Sasha grins at me from atop Gwen. She appears regal on her royal horse, wearing a new tunic of fine embroidery, and with her cheeks flushed pink.
I laugh. “We’re leaving.” I pat Anta’s neck. “Come on, old lad, last journey for a while.”
“All being well,” Sasha says, raising her eyebrows.
“Ever the optimist, Sasha,” I retort.
But we have no cause to worry. The crowds come from the farms and villages to watch our party ride alongside the river Sverne up to Cyne. At first I feel stupid wearing my black crown and my fine cloak, but soon I settle into the role, appreciating the weight of the crown; remembering Allerton’s teachings when we were trapped in the Red Palace. The weight must remind the wearer of the burden they carry. A long time ago, a small urchin girl from Halts-Walden would have run from that responsibility, but now, this woman remains. She shoulders it with pride, and she knows that she has truly been gifted.
Our welcome into Cyne is one of optimism, with people shouting White Hart in good natured voices. White roses are passed to me from small children. But all the time, the crown is heavy; reminding me that what is to come
will be tough. Not every day will be a hero’s welcome. Yet, my heart is light with joy, and I hold on tight to the memory of those I lost to bring me here. Not long ago I let go of the man I truly love, but with his sword at my hip, and his child in my belly, I am determined to live on his legacy as he would have wanted it. My little girl will be Cassandra, and she will live to be proud of the craft, and proud to wear the Black Crown. I close my eyes and inhale the sudden scent of the forest drifting to my nostrils. It’s followed by berries and musk. With a smile, I open my eyes, and nod down to the crowd. Father once asked me to hide what makes me special, but when I did, I lost who I was. It has taken heartbreak, adventure, and pure, embracing love to find it again. Now, finally, I can say: she’s truly gone, that half-hidden girl, and in her place sits a queen.
THE END
~ A Note from the Author ~
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Sarah Dalton
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Acknowledgements
The White Hart series has been a wonderful series to write, but it has also been the toughest, which is why I’m so glad I’ve had the support and encouragement that I’ve had throughout the series. Thank you to anyone who has bought the books. Your support means so much to me. It also means I can continue living as a full-time writer. Thank you thank you thank you!