Broken Veil (Harbinger #5)(93)

“Are you hurt?” Sera finally asked, wiping her nose on her sleeve. She caressed Cettie’s hair, blinking quickly, drinking her in.

“I’m well enough,” Cettie answered, her voice thick after the rush of memories. “Though very tired.”

“Trevon, come. Come!” Sera gestured for him to approach and then took his hand in hers when he arrived. He was groomed and dressed as a prince again. But the look on his face said that the good times had ended. He looked crestfallen. There was a heavy expression on Sera’s brow as well. A pained look.

“He told me you were the one who saved him in Genevar. We spoke to his brother, not an hour ago,” Sera said. “And shared the news. They are ready to welcome back their lost king,” she said, her voice trembling. “Every moment we have left is precious to me.”

“The marriage?” Cettie asked, her own brow wrinkling in sympathy.

Sera sighed. “We never consummated it, Cettie. The privy council says it will be best to annul it. I cannot go to Kingfountain. Once the mirror gates are sealed, there can be no crossing.”

“But what about this?” Cettie said, holding out the Tay al-Ard.

Sera took it from her, fondling the magical device, and offered it back to Trevon.

“It does not work between worlds,” Trevon explained. His own eyes were dark with sadness. “Only within them. Tell her about the general.”

Cettie’s eyebrows lifted.

“His fleet is destroyed, and he with it,” Sera said. “Admiral Grant has returned and has offered surrender terms to Lord Welles. We’re expecting his capitulation today. If not, there will be more bloodshed. Montpensier’s death and our defeat of the kishion will end the war happening within Kingfountain. But there is much anger, many problems to be solved. The kingdom is fracturing. There are still enemies on the loose. They weren’t all gathered at the abbey. They need Trevon . . . to heal the breach.”

Cettie was pained to hear that news. The way they stood near each other, the way Sera clenched his hand in her own . . . She knew their separation would be painful to them both. Their hardships seemed to have brought them even closer together.

“I’m so sorry,” Cettie whispered. But she understood, in a small way, those feelings. She, too, would be separate from the man she loved.

Sera maintained her composure. “We’ll do what’s best for our people,” she said. “You must be famished! Here, eat some of our food. I’ll have more brought straightaway. Then you must rest, Cettie. Sleep as long as you need. I’m going to send word to Fog Willows that you’re here, safe and sound. I’m sure Lady Maren and the others will come immediately. Juliana is already here.”

Cettie’s eyes widened. But what about Adam? She didn’t dare ask, fearful of what the answer might be. That he wouldn’t be coming back.

As if the empress had discerned her thoughts, she said, “Adam remained back at the Fells,” Sera said, and Cettie felt her heart drop. “At the hospital. He’s rescued all those poor wretcheds who were bound by deeds.” Sera’s eyes smoldered with anger. “New laws will be passed soon. This treatment of children will not stand. I’ve asked the lord high admiral to support the Ministry of Law in restoring order to those dark places in our cities. I’ve commanded the Ministry of Thought to open refuges and orphanages to care for those with no homes. And I’ve asked the Ministry of Wind to add more doctors to study the cholera morbus and find a cure, once and for all. I cannot solve all these problems in one day. But we will begin. One day the name of the Fells will be only a memory.”

Cettie’s heart throbbed with gratitude. “Thank you, Your Majesty,” she said.

“No,” Sera replied, shaking her head. “You will always call me Sera.”



A light touch on Cettie’s shoulder awakened her from blissful sleep. She blinked quickly, lifting her head from the pillow in Sera’s chamber to find Becka kneeling at her bedside. The girl had changed and bathed, and it looked like her peace of mind had been restored to her.

“The Fitzroys have arrived from Fog Willows,” Becka said. “They are anxious to see you. Are you feeling well enough?”

“Yes, of course,” Cettie said, sitting up and rubbing her eyes. “I should like to see them very much.” The mattress had felt like feathers and clouds, and she’d sunk into its peaceful oblivion. She had no idea how much time had passed. There was still light coming in from the windows, but it seemed to be waning.

“Can I help you change?” Becka offered.

Cettie smiled. “I haven’t any other clothes.” Then she noticed three gowns folded over the back of a sitting chair.

“Her Majesty thought you might approve of one of these. They’re all yours.”

One of them, a dark green gown with thick black stripes, reminded her of one of her favorite gowns when she was keeper of Fog Willows. “The green, if you please.”

Becka helped her dress and did her hair for her. How strange it felt to have an attentive servant. It made a little feeling of guilt wriggle inside her chest, but it was overpowered by her desire to dress quickly in order to see the Fitzroys again. Once she was ready, she followed Becka through the royal corridors.

“They’re in the music room,” Becka said.

The sounds she heard coming from the room she approached would have revealed it anyway. The doors were already open, welcoming her. Cettie’s heart began to race with nervousness. Above the gentle strains of strings and rushing scales of a clavicembalo, she heard the din of voices in conversation. She thought she recognized the booming laugh of Sir Jordan Harding.