by Trudie Skies
She recoiled. “You want me to sacrifice Fire Walkers?”
“Not sacrifice. We mean them no harm. Hopefully, the potion can be refined quickly and safely. Then, the keepers of my faith will agree to end this war.”
“They’re your people, Prince. You tell them to end this war.”
“Whilst your kin threaten to burn our homes, I can do no such thing. Our reports state your fire magickers are out of control and burning your own people—”
“They were poisoned—”
“Which is exactly why we need this potion,” Hiram said. “If someone is poisoning Fire Walkers, then Lune’s Tears is the antidote.”
Hiram had a point. There was no telling how much damage Rahn’s Breath could inflict if someone meant Fire Walkers harm.
But was this Lune’s Tears truly the solution? She couldn’t think of a suitable counter argument and instead pulled at a stray thread on her robe.
“We all have much to consider,” Hiram said. “The night is drawing, and you must be famished from your travels, Lady Arlbond.” Hiram rang his tiny bell and the servant returned, balancing a large tray filled with bowls. She placed a steaming bowl with a repugnant smell in front of Mina. Silver scales floated in a thick brown sludge with vegetables. If she weren’t sitting in the company of a foreign prince and ambassador, she’d kick Alistar where it hurt.
The servant placed wooden spoons and bread onto the dining table. Alistar snapped his bread in half, but paused when his father tutted in irritation.
Hiram bowed his head in prayer. “We give thanks to Gai and Mya for this bounty, and we pray that Rahn and Myr offer us guidance in these trying times.”
Prince Wulfhart, with his hands clasped together, added more words. “We ask the Keepers of Light to guide us on the correct path.”
The Prince and Hiram glanced to her. She didn’t know any suitable prayers for the present company. “Lune guide us,” she murmured.
Hiram tapped his bowl with his spoon. “Eat. We have plenty to spare.”
Alistar shoved his bread into the bowl and scooped out a lump of fish with the eagerness of a starving man. Hiram ate with more dignity. Prince Wulfhart swallowed tiny polite mouthfuls, his silver eyes watching her.
She stared down at the sludge. The smell alone made her gag, but the Prince’s potion and the leeches still sitting on the dining table stole her appetite.
“Are you eating, my lady?” the Prince asked.
A mouthful wouldn’t kill her, with Lune’s luck. She forced a smile and scooped the least offensive thing she could find, a carrot, and popped it in her mouth.
Only then did she spot Tira waving her arms and yelling a soundless warning.
The broth clinging to the carrot tasted saltier than sand and a cold jolt shuddered down her spine. The spoon almost slipped from her grip, and she placed it back down with polite restraint. “Forgive me, Lord Hiram, but my stomach is unsettled from my travels. And I must return to the Temple of Rahn and speak with the Fire Walkers.”
She rose from her chair. Alistar hurried a mouthful to join her.
Prince Wulfhart stood. “I’m grateful we had this moment to speak, my lady. Time is against us. Return with me to Harvera, the heart of my kingdom, and you may oversee testing of Lune’s Tears yourself. Help me bring peace to your people and mine.” He held out his hand.
She gawked at him. “You want me to travel to Hartnor with you?”
“I have a ship docked at our host’s private pier. Come and meet my people. Together we can prevent this war. I give you my word, and my trust.”
Mina glanced to the lantern. Tira shook her head with a resounding no.
“That’s—that’s a generous offer, Prince Wulfhart, but my people need me here, and this is something we should bring to the Council—”
“No.” Hiram’s spoon clattered into his empty bowl. “I tried to reason with the Council and they dismissed me. I mean no offence, Lady Arlbond, but they have little respect for either of us. We must act alone, confirm this potion works, and bring our proposal to the King once he recovers.”
If he recovers.
Prince Wulfhart’s hand dropped to his side. “Whilst we make pleasantries, our people prepare for war. Many of your kin will die, and even more of mine. Or you could lead them to a future where they are no longer seen as monsters.”
“The Three-Pointed Star supports this research,” Hiram said. “They no longer wish to be threatened with Fire Walkers, either. Surely you must understand that this is in the best interest of you and your people, High Priestess?”
Preventing war. Ending the oppression of her people. The chance to live normal lives, to be normal people… It sounded too good to be true. So why did it make her insides squirm?
“Should you offer Fire Walkers this potion, would you demand everyone use it? Even those trained, such as priests? And what of those who refused?”
Prince Wulfhart inclined his head. “You once said it yourself: your kin would give up their power if they had the choice. The question is, would Sandair be willing to relinquish its power over its neighbors?”
Alistar made a non-committal sound.
She glanced to him. He’d not made a single comment all meeting. “Ali?”
He shifted in his seat, not quite meeting her eyes. “If you could give up your fire, wouldn’t you?”
Prince Wulfhart studied her face, waiting for her answer, but what would a Hartnord or Neu Bosan know about blood fire? If she were still Malik, she would have gladly given up her fire in exchange for peace of mind.
But now, after joining the Temple of Rahn and training with Jonan? She’d begun to see her fire as a part of herself. In all honesty, she enjoyed the thrill of her power, of the heat in her blood. To never feel that again would leave her blood cool. Bereft.
Rahn gave them this gift. Could she force her people to give it up?
But could she condemn them to dying in a pointless war?
Prince Wulfhart had put her into an impossible position, with an impossible decision that she couldn’t make. She needed Talin or Iman for this. Even Jonan. Gods, anyone more competent than her. What would Leila choose?
To take this potion and force it on the Fire Walkers, no doubt.
In the right hands, with the right control, Fire Walkers could save lives. I am the master of my own self, never forget.
Tira was shaking her head.
She knew something. The truth.
“Hartnor will act with or without your blessing, my lady,” the Prince said. “The sooner you realize that this is the only chance of peace between our peoples, the more lives will be saved. My ship leaves tomorrow at dawn. I pray you make the right choice.”
36
A QUESTION OF TRUST
As impressive as the Temple of Rahn in Myryn appeared from the outside, it left little space inside. Only a handful of Fire Walkers occupied the few rooms built into the lighthouse, and they needed to remain in the city to guide the many boats sailing through. The temple’s main sanctum held a single burning brazier in the center, nothing else, and unlike the pyramid in Solus with its underground tunnels, here the staircase went up to the stars, not down.
Garr sat cross-legged beside the brazier and picked his nails. “Out for a romantic stroll? I was starting to worry you’d been kidnapped by Hartnords.”
Alistar crossed his arms and scowled. Mina was in no mood for their petty arguments. She sank into the sand covering the sanctum floor—sand from the inlet beaches, not the Duslands. Hiram had offered her a room in the Myrbond mansion, but she’d not wasted another second in his presence. She didn’t need a chaperone, but Alistar had insisted on escorting her and bought them both steamed pork buns on the walk back. Better than his father’s salty fish broth.
“What happened?” Garr shuffled closer. “You look like you’ve seen the dead.”
“We met Prince Wulfhart.”
“The Prince? Here?” He s
hot a glance to Alistar. “You Bosan are jumping in bed with the Hartnords quicker than I imagined.”
“We’re not jumping in bed with anyone!” Alistar leaned against the temple wall and hit the back of his head with a thunk. “Stars above, I don’t even know anymore. What in Myr’s name is my father thinking? If the Council learns of this…” He rubbed his neck and grimaced.
“What did Wulfhart want?” Garr asked.
She rubbed a hand down the full length of her face. “He says he and his people had nothing to do with the Queen’s murder.”
“And you believe him?”
“I don’t know.” As soon as she was alone, she’d confirm Prince Wulfhart’s testimony with her mother. “He has a potion. A method of suppressing blood fire. He wants to test it on Fire Walkers. He… he wants me to travel to Hartnor with him at dawn.”
Garr studied her with a wary expression, as though meeting an enemy on a battlefield. “So you’re going to force this potion on Fire Walkers. Is that it?”
“Course I’m not. But if what he says is true, his potion could stop this war. Would you give up your blood fire if you had the chance? If it meant you could live a normal life and not be seen as a weapon to be wielded by Housemen? To not have your friends look at you like—like you’re a monster?” She glanced to Alistar and met his emerald eyes. “Fire Walkers should be given the choice whether to give up their fire or not. I’m obligated to try, aren’t I?”
Garr made a disgusted sound. “Are you?”
“I’m the High Priestess. The safety of the Fire Walkers—their future happiness—is my responsibility.”
“Even me, Priestess?”
“Even you.”
He smiled, but the usual mirth that lit up his eyes had faded. “So, let me guess. Neu Bosa supports Wulfhart’s potion? With that, they’d have even greater control of their slaves.”
“Yes, it’s about control,” Alistar scoffed. “Or maybe it’s so Fire Walkers have greater control over themselves? You don’t know what it’s like to worry that everyone around you could burst into flame at any—”
“That’s what your people fear, isn’t it? That the scary Fire Walkers will burn down your homes and children. Why do you hate them so much?”
Alistar bristled. “I don’t hate them—”
“Fear, hate, it all leads to the same consequences—”
“These are the consequences.” Alistar lifted his shirt and exposed his scars. “This is what happens when a Fire Walker loses control of their power. I was burned for my helbond by a Fire Walker I trusted—”
“Did becoming a man make you less of one?”
“See? You can belittle me all you like, and what can I do about it? You could burn me in a heartbeat. What defense do I have? Not even those Hartnords in their armor could protect their king. And you don’t see why people fear you?”
“I used to fear blood fire,” Mina croaked, her voice suddenly dry. “I hated it. But I’ve not used my fire to hurt anyone, Ali.”
“Would you, though? Would you use your fire to attack someone?”
To attack someone? No. To defend herself? She’d sooner depend on her sword before the power in her veins. There was nothing honorable about burning a man in a one-on-one duel. And she couldn’t be certain she’d be able to wield her fire with the same precision and control as her blade. “I’ve no intention of burning homes or children. I’ve never met a Fire Walker who does.”
Alistar ran trembling fingers through his hair. “Even if you’ve no intention to, there’s still a risk you could hurt your friends and family.”
He still feared her, and that realization hurt like a punch to the gut. So long as she possessed blood fire, he’d never trust her. They’d never be Ali and Arl again. “You want me to go with Prince Wulfhart? You—you want me to take his potion?”
“Stars, Mina, they’re your people. You decide what to do with them.” He pushed from the wall. “I need to speak with my father. I’ll be back at dawn.” He slid out of the sanctum before she could say anything, but what could she say?
Her shoulders sagged and she ran her hands through the sand grains beneath her, letting them filter between her fingers. Gods, she missed Arlent and the sands of her home more than ever. Fire Walkers had enjoyed only a few weeks of freedom before being forced into a cage again. In those brief weeks, she’d felt free. For the first time, Jonan was teaching her how to master her abilities, not just ignore them.
Could she give that up? Was it selfish to hope for more?
“You don’t want to join Wulfhart.” Garr spoke so softly she barely heard him. “Believe me, Priestess, that is the last thing you want.”
“And you would know that how?”
“Because your Bosan speaks true. The Hartnords are fanatics. They’re devoted to their god, and that god hates us for the power we possess. Sandarians are rarely allowed in Hartnord cities, and only if they covert to their religion—denouncing blood fire, undergoing painful tests, and participating in barbaric rituals to atone for the sin of tainted blood.” He scrunched his nose. “Those who fail are executed. Those who pass… They flee if they have any sense.”
She’d not heard of Sandarians being treated that way, but there were few Hartnords in Sandair to ask. Just Gareth, and he’d abandoned his kingdom after Princess Aniya’s death. Gods. Aniya had been killed for possessing blood fire. “You know a lot about Hartnords for an Ash Maker.”
“What can I say? I keep my ear to the ground. When someone’s got a knife at your back, it pays to know who’s wielding it. Speaking of which, can I have my dagger?”
“The one you bought with my gold?”
“For my protection. You may have noticed there are Hartnords on the loose.”
“That’s what your blood fire is for.”
“Oh, so now you admit our fire magic is a weapon?”
“It’s not a weapon, and I’m not giving you one, either.” She glanced to the wall where Alistar stood moments before. “You can’t speak of this to anyone. It could endanger lives.”
“Who’d believe a street rat like me?” He removed his purple cloak and spread it out beside the brazier. “Sleep easy, Priestess.”
“You’re sleeping here?”
“I’m no stranger to dirty floors. The Fire Walkers here may have offered up a room for you, but I’m no high and mighty priestess and so I’ve got to make due on my own.”
“You could sleep with me.”
Garr quirked a brow. “And break your vows?”
“I meant sleep, you oaf. You know what, never mind. I’m getting some air.” She ignored his stifled giggling and strode up the curved steps leading to the top of the tower. No one stopped her as she went up and up, and she emerged out onto the roof to face a fire as bright as Rahn.
The bronze brazier in front of her was as big as a wagon and its flames rose to the height of five men. But to her surprise, the night air was cool and gentle; the fire’s heat and smoke drifted off to the stars.
She pulled her collar close to ward off the chill. Tira waited for her in the fire, as large as life. Gods, it was good to see a friendly face. “Can you see Talin right now? And Iman and Jonan? Are they safe?”
Tira smiled and nodded.
Mina rolled her shoulders and loosed a breath. Thank Lune that Tira could watch over them. “You saw what happened at dinner. Prince Wulfhart said he didn’t murder the Queen. Is he speaking the truth?”
Tira shrugged.
That wasn’t the answer Mina expected. Speaking to her mother through the fire was a gift, but a damn annoying one at times because the gods couldn’t allow them to communicate properly. “You don’t know?”
Tira covered her eyes and pointed at Mina.
“You didn’t see what happened to the Queen because you were watching me?”
Tira nodded.
At the time of the Queen’s murder, Mina had been talking to Prince Rais. Of course her nosy moth
er would have been more interested in that conversation. Mina chewed her thumb. If Lotus Bud was available at markets across Sandair, it increased the number of suspects. She’d thought it odd that Prince Wulfhart would get his revenge in such a crass manner, but what if the assassin framed the Hartnords? What would they gain?
War.
A massacre of the Fire Walkers.
The death of an unborn Solaran prince.
And the likely death of King Khaled.
This had Prince Ravel’s name scrawled all over it, but she had no way to prove it. He’d threatened his father in the tournament; who was to say he hadn’t planned this war to force his father’s early abdication? Was the Prince monstrous enough to murder his own mother? He certainly had a skill for poison.
The Prince had sent her all the way to Gaisland for a reason. What horror was he planning with her out of the way? “Someone is poisoning Fire Walkers. It’s not a rogue Rhaesbond, is it?”
Tira shook her head.
“A Duslander murdered a Water Bearer. He’s got Rahn’s Breath. Is he working for Prince Ravel? The Hartnords?”
Tira shrugged. If not them, then who? Mina wasn’t asking the right questions. “Is Saeed in the fire? Can I speak to him?”
Tira bobbed her head in a series of nods and shakes which Mina interpreted as yes, he was in the fire, but no, he couldn’t speak for whatever reason. Perhaps because she could only commune with other Lunei or those she shared blood with, such as her mother and uncle. Mina rubbed her head. This was going nowhere. “Should I go with Prince Wulfhart at dawn?”
Tira shook her head with such force it blurred through the flames.
“I don’t know what to do. This could prevent war. That’s worth trying, isn’t it?”
Tira wore a sympathetic smile and placed a hand over her heart. Her eyes said, trust yourself. There was so much she needed to ask her mother, but a pang of guilt caught in her chest. “It feels like I only talk to you when I’m in trouble and need something. I should let you enjoy your afterlife.”