Five Dark Fates (Three Dark Crowns, #4)(94)

‘And he delivered his message?’

Elizabeth looks to Bree; they nod.

‘But there was no return message?’

Bree shakes her head, and Luca sighs. ‘Well,’ Luca says. ‘I suppose Arsinoe means to deliver it in person.’

Perhaps not wanting to think about what that message might be, Bree moves through the room and starts stuffing Luca’s belongings into a sack.

‘What are you doing?’

‘What we should have done long before this. We are getting you out of here.’

‘No. You girls cannot risk yourselves for me. If Queen Katharine wins the day, she will know who did this.’

Bree’s expression is all elemental fire.

‘We know the risks. We are not children anymore.’

‘And if anyone asks, we’ll say we took you out of the city for your safety,’ Elizabeth adds. She helps Bree with the packing, filling another sack with jewels, clothes, and trinkets. Luca gathers up her personal journal. Whatever else remains, she must trust that the priestesses of the temple will preserve it for her.

‘Talk in the Volroy grows wild,’ says Bree. ‘I half expect that Lucian will order one of the maids to stab him through the heart rather than face capture by the enemy.’

They shoulder the sacks, and each takes one of Luca’s elbows. But she hardly needs the assistance. Her legs suddenly feel years younger.

‘I would not worry about Lucian,’ she says, and chuckles. ‘Poisoners have a flair for the dramatic, but few Arrons are brave enough for it. Natalia was the only one of them worth her salt.’

‘You sound like you miss her,’ Elizabeth says.

‘I do miss her. My old adversary. If she had not been killed, it never would have gone this far, let me tell you.’

She sees the girls exchange a humoring glance. She may be the High Priestess, but they are of another age. And perhaps they are right. It is young women now who bleed upon the battlefield. Young women who will lead them, no matter which side prevails. There will be no more puppet queens.

‘Why did you bother saving me?’ she asks. ‘Why did you not leave this old relic to her fate?’

‘There is certainly a case to be made that you earned that fate,’ Bree says, brow arched. ‘But we love you, Luca. And we will still need you if we are to get past this madness. You may be old, but you are no relic.’

Luca takes Bree’s hand and squeezes it. There is still vital blood in her veins. The Goddess may yet have a role for her to play in the future of the island. Or they may be taking her through tunnels and darkened alleys, out of the temple and out of the capital, all the way out of Fennbirn’s story. After the life she has led, and all she has lost, Luca is surprised to find she will be happy either way.

When Genevieve rides her frothing horse directly into the castle, she nearly runs right over the top of her brother and cousin.

‘Antonin! Lucian!’ She looks from one frightened, exasperated face to the other, and notes that they are both carrying velvet bags. ‘What are those? Do you intend to steal from the Volroy and take to the road like common thieves?’

‘Yes,’ Antonin replies. ‘And so must you. Go now and take what you can. Thanks to the strategic thinking of Rho Murtra, our way back to Greavesdrake is cut off. We will be lucky to make it through the city and onto the road to Prynn.’

‘You mean to abandon Greavesdrake? It is our home!’

‘Greavesdrake will be burned out by day’s end,’ Lucian snaps. ‘Have you seen the rebel numbers?’

‘Have you seen our commander?’ Genevieve counters. ‘And what about the Queen Crowned? No matter what happens we must remain with her.’

‘Would you rather advise, or would you rather survive?’ Antonin asks.

She sets her jaw stubbornly, and he approaches her horse to put his hand over hers on the reins.

‘Sister. I know you would do what Natalia would do. And if Natalia were here, she would stay with Katharine. But she was blinded by that girl. Blinded to her faults. What she should have wanted was to live to fight another day. Come now, we have to hurry.’

Genevieve sits numb in the saddle. ‘You are too late. The mist has already made the battlefield. Queen Katharine is retreating here. She will be here within moments.’

‘All the more reason for us to move swiftly.’

For a blink, Genevieve considers helping him onto the back of her horse. Galloping away and never looking back.

‘Outside, our soldiers are fighting against naturalist beasts and war-gift-guided knives,’ she says. ‘That they should be swallowed up and torn apart by the mist is—’

‘Terrible,’ Antonin whispers. ‘But there is nothing that we can do.’

Genevieve shakes her head. She tugs her hands gently away.

‘Genevieve—’

‘No. I cannot go. You are right, Antonin. The Arrons must survive. But at least one Arron must remain also with the queen.’

‘Genevieve!’ Lucian takes hold of her leg. ‘If the queen survives, we will return! But if the rebellion overtakes her . . . they may spare Bree Westwood and even old Luca, for love of the elemental. But we three, we will burn in the square!’

‘Then I will burn.’ Genevieve swings off the horse, her hands trembling. She is not brave by nature. Not like her sister. She hands Antonin the reins. ‘Take my mare. You will have a better chance on horseback.’