by L. Penelope
An Elsiran woman who had wandered over spoke up. “What do you call these teachings?”
Zeli’s brows climbed. “They’re not teachings. They’re just … I don’t know, just thoughts.”
“I’d like to hear more,” a young man said from the back of the group. It had definitely doubled in size since she’d been speaking.
She shook her head, perplexed. She turned to Varten, widening her eyes and silently asking for his help.
“You could tell them about sacrifice,” he said, voice low. “About trust and strength and courage.” His eyes were smiling at her, and the admiration and love in his gaze settled her confusion. “You’ve learned a lot that you can share. And I think … I think a lot of people would want to hear it. Not all of us have Songs, but we can all learn to live in harmony. With each other and with ourselves.”
She swallowed and glanced back at the receptive faces turned her way. “Maybe that’s what I could call it? Harmony?”
His eyes crinkled as he smiled. “The Harmony of Being.”
Zeli filled with a new kind of warmth. One that was full of purpose. Her head swam, she had not intended to become a teacher of any kind, but the people’s need for comfort pulsed through her Song. This was something she could do, at least. Something good.
“Why don’t we head to the park,” Varten called out. “And she’ll tell you more about it.”
Murmurs of agreement rippled through the group. Varten squeezed her hand. “It’s okay, you can do this,” he whispered.
And she believed him.
EPILOGUE
We sing because while blood flows in our veins
we are alive and we have voices
and songs
that must be heard.
—THE HARMONY OF BEING
Jasminda faced the eastern mountain range, its snowcapped peaks so familiar, but no longer home. It felt like a million years since she’d last seen them—could it have only been months? These mountains formed an unbroken chain from north to south except for this one place—Breach Valley. An innocuous patch of land, brown and crisped with a thin layer of snow lying atop it.
Kyara stepped to her side, her braids undone, hair crinkling around her face. Cousin, Jasminda thought. I wish we could have had more time.
As if she’d heard her thoughts, Kyara turned and smiled. Jasminda could not recall ever seeing the woman do so before.
“You leave today?” Jasminda asked.
Kyara nodded. “Darvyn wanted to see this, to help in the transition.” She turned and motioned behind her toward the organized chaos occurring on this side of the range.
Dozens of buses that had carried the Lagrimari across the country were refueling at the eastern army base, preparing for the trek across the border and into the neighboring land. Now that they had their Songs back, the Lagrimari had decided to return to their homeland and rebuild it. Working together, linking their Songs, they would transform the desert into arable land, much as their ancestors had done.
Jack, Darvyn, and Papa stood to the side chatting with a group of older men—former prisoners of war whom they’d known for years. An air of melancholy clung to the scene—so many changes all at once. Jasminda shivered, drawing her coat tighter.
“We can come back,” Kyara said. “If you ever need us. If there is another threat, we’ll be here. Mooriah was not able to return at will since she was truly dead, but Darvyn and I don’t have that restriction.” A peace had settled upon her, one which had removed the ever-present strain around her eyes.
“Thank you, and I am sorry that you all will have to make this sacrifice.”
Kyara shook her head. “It isn’t sacrifice, it’s purpose. I welcome it. It’s better this way.”
“Your Majesty,” a gravelly voice called from behind them. They turned to find Turwig and Rozyl. The old man bowed but Rozyl merely raised a brow. Kyara smiled at them in greeting and then retreated to where Darvyn was.
“You don’t need to bow to me anymore,” Jasminda said. “I’m no longer your queen.”
“You will always be our queen,” Turwig replied solemnly.
Looking upon the buses and the folks gathered there, her eyes misted. “I suspect the time for kings and queens is nearing an end,” she whispered, echoing Oola’s words from not long ago. “The will of the people is not necessarily what we would expect. The referendum taught me that.”
Turwig nodded. “I suppose you’re right.”
“What will you do?”
“For now the elders of the Keepers will serve as a ruling council. We’ll need to wrest control of some territories from warlords who have cropped up and work on cleaning up the mess of the past five hundred years.” He should have sounded overwhelmed, but excitement was the primary emotion brushing her Song.
“And what of the Sons of Lagrimar?” she asked.
Rozyl tensed. “We will have to contend with them, for better or worse. They have a seat at the table and will not relinquish it.”
“This will of the people you speak of can be unpredictable and they are considered heroes by many,” Turwig added.
Terrorists or freedom fighters, the distinction between them depended much on your perspective. Jasminda shook off a chill.
“Can we count on your aid with transforming the land?” Rozyl asked. “You may be the strongest Singer now that Darvyn is leaving.”
“Of course I will help. But I suspect that once the people get used to singing again, things will go a bit faster. And our nations will need to remain strong allies, what better way to strengthen the ties?”
Turwig hummed in approval.
“Good luck to you,” Rozyl said, tears filling her eyes. Jasminda pulled the woman into a hug and received several hard thumps on the back in return.
“And you as well,” she whispered.
Rozyl pulled away and marched off without another word. Turwig gave her another bow before following. The two Keepers boarded a bus that would take them back across the border.
Jasminda’s gaze was drawn back to Jack and the others. Papa’s expression was jovial as he joked around with the group of men. Both were too far away to easily scan their emotions—she could have stretched just a bit to do so, but decided not to push. It would be clear soon enough.
A short figure marched toward her, tight steely curls bouncing with each step. Jasminda’s eyes widened but she stood her ground. One of her Guardsmen moved to intercept the newspaperwoman, but Jasminda waved him off.
“It’s all right, let her through. How can I help you, Mistress Harimel?” Wariness made her skin feel tight.
“Your Majesty.” Hazelle Harimel dipped into a slight curtsey once she’d reached Jasminda’s side. “I wanted to get your reaction to the exodus of the Lagrimari. What do you think the future holds for the two lands?”
There was no obvious vitriol in the question, though Jasminda didn’t let her guard down. “I certainly hope that the future is one of mutual benefit. We intend to be close allies and leave the hurts of the past behind.”
“Do you foresee that the open border will cause challenges?”
Jasminda blinked, unsure of what to make of this nearly pleasant woman. “I do not. Open travel will be important since so many Lagrimari have chosen to stay in Elsira and pursue visas as we rewrite the immigration laws. And the Keepers have been actively recruiting Elsirans with a variety of skill sets to emigrate and assist the new government with updating infrastructure and modernizing the land. There are great opportunities for both peoples and the king and I are determined to assist Lagrimar in any way we can.”
Hazelle Harimel scribbled in her notebook. Jasminda resisted the urge to peek to see if her words were being transcribed correctly. She brushed against the woman’s emotions to find them … calm. Determined as ever but without any malice present. What had happened to her?
“I’d like to take a moment, off the record, to thank you for your leadership during the Wraith War.” Sincerity bled from the reporte
r. It took all of Jasminda’s will not to stumble in shock.
“I myself was.… possessed by a wraith.” The words were difficult for her to utter. “Afterward, a Lagrimari girl healed me. I…” She looked toward the buses, to the people boarding them, ready to go and reclaim their land, make the desert farmable, and take back their lives. “I can imagine that it has not been easy, being in your position, Your Majesty. But I’m grateful that you’re here. I know our people owe you a great debt.”
The tears she hadn’t allowed to fall before broke through and tracked Jasminda’s cheeks. She struggled to gather herself in order to answer. “I’m not sure what to say. Thank you, that means a lot.” And it did. Hazelle Harimel nodded and concluded her interview before taking her leave.
Jasminda was still reeling when Jack came up to her. “Is that woman still bothering you?”
“No, she’s actually not.” She sniffed and turned her back to the crowd to blow her nose. Jack slipped a hand around her waist and she leaned into his warmth.
“Said all your good-byes?” she asked.
“Good-byes for now. But not forever.”
“And has Papa decided what he’s going to do?”
“I think he’s vying for the role of ambassador.”
She raised a brow. “I never pegged him for a diplomat.”
“Really? He dealt with a lot of abuse for many years without losing his cool or retaliating. He raised some incredible children amidst it all. I’d say he’s perfect. He’s got my vote.”
Jasminda chuckled. The sound of an engine starting made her turn back. The first bus had shut its doors and pulled onto the road. She held her breath as it passed where she and Jack stood. The pavement ended on what had always been a battlefield. Across the border, the roadway started again, the hard-packed dirt leading to Lagrimar’s Great Highway.
Papa came up to them and she put her free arm around him. “I never thought I’d live to see the day,” he said, voice full of wonder. Whether he meant that the Mantle was down or that free Lagrimari people were returning to their land with hope in their hearts, she wasn’t sure. Perhaps both.
“Me, neither,” she said. “But I think we will both live long enough to see many amazing things.”
Jack chuckled and her Song lit up at the sound. The joy and hope from those who waited eagerly for their homecoming combined. If she stretched far enough, she would be able to sense the relief of those who’d known so much war—those on both sides of the border.
She gave in to the urge and let her power soar, riding on the wings of a lifetime of longing and drawing in the energy of all. She sucked it all into her Song, allowing it to fill her until she was full. Life flowed all around her, flowed through her, and back out into the world.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Ending a series is like completing a marathon. Not that I’ve ever run a marathon—or run at all outside of mandatory gym classes—but in my mind, they’re much the same. Painful and difficult, but ultimately rewarding efforts that take a physical and mental toll and yield benefits that last a lifetime.
Getting to the final chapter of the final book in the series I began eight years ago is like no other accomplishment I’ve ever achieved. It wasn’t very long ago that I couldn’t conceive how anyone could complete a whole novel. Now, I’ve written four fairly long ones—though looking back, I’m still not sure how I got to the finish line. Certainly, it wasn’t accomplished without a small army of people along the route, cheering me on.
Huge thanks to my writing community and every critique partner and beta reader who has helped me shape my words, including the homies Nakeesha Seneb, Cerece Rennie Murphy, Denny S. Bryce, and Ivy Spadille.
To Danielle Poiesz, who never fails to ask the questions I hadn’t thought of, even when I’ve tried to think of everything. She always makes my writing more coherent and has improved my craft exponentially over the years.
To my agent, Sara Megibow, who is a constant source of knowledge, encouragement, insight, and optimism. I’m very grateful to be a part of the crew.
To my team at St. Martin’s Press, including Meghan Harrington, Beatrice Jason, Mara Delgado Sánchez, and everyone whose name I don’t know: I deeply appreciate all of your efforts to bring my words to the world.
And to my editor, Monique Patterson, whose support and belief in me and my work has been life-changing.
To the readers, the bloggers and tweeters and Bookstagrammers, everyone who has read and enjoyed and shared my stories, along with all of My Imaginary Friends—I owe you all of my gratitude. I would be a tree on the ground in the forest with no one to know or care without you all.
To the singer Jamila Woods for the LEGACY! LEGACY! album, which was the soundtrack of my life during the writing process of this novel and whose words and music made the presence of the ancestors clearer in my mind.
And finally, to my family. My brother, my mother, my father (whose presence never fades), and my husband, who all surround me with love and support. They allow me to delve into the dark places where creativity sometimes takes me and make it possible for me to leave it all on the page when I emerge.
Also by L. Penelope
Song of Blood & Stone
Breath of Dust & Dawn
Whispers of Shadow & Flame
Hush of Storm & Sorrow
Cry of Metal & Bone
Echoes of Ash & Tears
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
L. Penelope has been writing since she could hold a pen and loves getting lost in the worlds in her head. She is an award-winning fantasy and paranormal romance author. Equally left- and right-brained, she studied filmmaking and computer science in college and sometimes dreams in HTML. She lives in Maryland with her husband and furry dependents. Sign up for new release information, exclusives, and giveaways on her website: lpenelope.com, or sign up for email updates here.
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Contents
Title Page
Copyright Notice
Dedication
Map
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-One
Chapter Forty-Two
Chapter Forty-Three
Chapter Forty-Four
Chapter Forty-Five
Chapter Forty-Six
Chapter Forty-Seven
Chapter Forty-Eight
Chapter Forty-Nine
&n
bsp; Chapter Fifty
Chapter Fifty-One
Chapter Fifty-Two
Chapter Fifty-Three
Chapter Fifty-Four
Chapter Fifty-Five
Chapter Fifty-Six
Chapter Fifty-Seven
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
Also by L. Penelope
About the Author
Copyright
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
First published in the United States by St. Martin’s Griffin, an imprint of the St. Martin’s Publishing Group
REQUIEM OF SILENCE. Copyright © 2021 by L. Penelope. All rights reserved. For information, address St. Martin’s Publishing Group, 120 Broadway, New York, NY 10271.
www.stmartins.com
Cover design by Ervin Serrano
Cover illustration by Jaime Jones
The Library of Congress has cataloged the print edition as follows:
Names: Penelope, L., 1978– author.
Title: Requiem of silence / L. Penelope.
Description: First edition. | New York: St. Martin’s Griffin, 2021. | Series: Earthsinger chronicles; book 4 |
Identifiers: LCCN 2021008151 | ISBN 9781250148131 (trade paperback) | ISBN 9781250148148 (ebook)
Classification: LCC PS3616.E5387 R47 2021 | DDC 813/.6—dc23
LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2021008151
eISBN 9781250148148
Our ebooks may be purchased in bulk for promotional, educational, or business use. Please contact the Macmillan Corporate and Premium Sales Department at 1-800-221-7945, extension 5442, or by email at [email protected].
First Edition: 2021