Incendiary (Hollow Crown #1)(120)

I’m overcome with disgust, shock, sadness. All I want to do is run as far away as possible, but I’ll never be able to outrun what lives inside me. The truths I don’t want to face.

I remember the rest of the Whispers now around me. Unaware of what I’ve become witness to, only focused on the loss of their leader. So I stand, and together, we work silently, building a massive pyre to burn our dead. A few of the older Moria, the ones who have done this time and time again, sing old funeral songs, their voices haunting as they echo in the courtyard. I know these songs, but they are only familiar because they are sung in my memories. I wonder if my mother ever sang them to me.

Night falls by the time we’re finished, and Margo comes up beside me, a torch in her hand. She throws it at the grave, and we inhale the oil and smoke.

“We can’t linger,” I say. “We have to leave as soon as possible.”

“I know,” Margo answers. “By the light of Our Lady—”

“We carry on.”





Chapter 29


We travel under the cover of dark. Margo and I double back for the carriage and make sure the roads are clear. There is but one elder left, and three dozen Whispers, mostly fledglings too young to fight. Still, we manage to turn a two-day trip into one, and with luck on our side, we arrive at the port town of Sól y Perla near midnight. Here, there is very little presence of the royal guards, and scores of traders swarm in a night market illuminated by large oil lamps, drunken men and women from all over stumbling in and out of cantinas.

While Sayida heads off to do some trading at the harbor, Margo and I scout ahead. The others wait in our stolen carriage. The beach home facing the sea is pitch-black. Not a single light within. The sea breeze is calming here, the boardwalk clear of foot traffic. The house is mostly empty, with just basic furnishings and simple rooms. There’s a cellar stocked with bags of rice and jars of salted fish. We might be able to pull this off.

“I’ll go get the others,” Margo says.

“Hold on.” I stand back and wait for her to turn to me. “You were right.”

“We don’t have time for this, Ren.”

“It’s only a moment, but it’s important. I wanted to tell you that you were right. About the way that I push myself into loneliness. It didn’t make sense to me until Méndez said all those things.”

“That man should have no place in your heart,” she reminds me.

“And yet everything he was is in here.” I press my finger to my temple.

Margo sighs. The wind blows the loose strands of her golden hair. “You’ve gotten through this before. You can do it again.”

She leaves me. I inhale the scent of the sea to prepare. I am thankful for the reprieve, as Méndez’s memories surround me. When I close my eyes, I see my Robári hands, and Justice Méndez wrapping them in gauze. It was never a father’s touch. His gentle hands were moved by the fear of someone who had too much to lose.



One by one, the surviving Whispers file into the abandoned house. Because all the elders but Filipa are dead, she’s appointed Margo, Sayida, and a Persuári named Tomás as the highest-ranking members of the Whispers. Everyone has a task—to arrange beds, to make food, to prepare weapons, to be ready to leave as soon as we are able.

Sayida and Tomás haven’t returned from their task to trade the rubies for passage on a ship. I shut the door to a washroom and clean my face. Everything hurts in a way I didn’t think possible. I strip off my clothes and clean myself, re-dress my wounds. Lady Nuria’s lovely gift is ruined, but I salvage as much of the platinum wire and stars as I can. I braid a few strands into two bracelets, then spool the rest and tuck it into a small leather pouch I strap to my belt. When that’s done, I braid my hair in a plain plait down my back. What would Leo say if he saw me putting on riding trousers and a rough-spun tunic with holes in it? At least it’s clean?

I’m scooping more water in my hands, trying to get the muck out from under my nails, when my ears ring, making way for a memory to barrel into me. Méndez’s voice is clear as a bell. The slippery memory of him staring at the sea solidifies, ready to be seen.



Justice Méndez reaches the top of the tower, breathing in the salty air as he waits for the guards to open the door. He rushes inside, anxious to test out his new toy.

A frail man, skin the color of ash, rocks back and forth in the corner of the cell. Dull glowing veins stretch down his face, his torso.

“Cebrián, come here,” Justice Méndez orders.

The man won’t respond. Justice Méndez expected as much. “Bring her in.”

Lucia is dragged in, gagged and fighting tooth and nail as they shove her into the cell.

Justice Méndez tries again. “Cebrián, I brought you a gift. She is the first to heal.”

Cebrián stops rocking, but doesn’t acknowledge the people in the room. Justice Méndez closes the distance to the girl, removing the gag from her mouth.

She shakes in the cold room and asks, “What did you do to me?”

“Use your magics. Look into my mind. If you can tell me what I plan, then I’ll let you go.”

Lucia eyes the room between each sharp breath. Justice Méndez extends his hand, his thin fingers like a fallen autumn branch. “If you choose not to, you’ll remain a prisoner of Soledad until the day you die.”