Stormcaster (Shattered Realms #3)(49)

Most surprising of all, she was wearing a spattercloth uniform with an officer’s scarf.

Ash looked up at the queen. “Lyss is wearing a uniform. Does that mean she’s in the army?”

His mother nodded. “She’s a captain in the Highlanders now, and she has made quite a reputation for herself.”

“But . . . what happened to music, and drawing, and stories? She has so much talent, and—”

“I believe she’s decided that those skills are not well suited for the world she lives in. But, happily, she seems to excel at warfare, too. They call her the Gray Wolf in the field.”

Jenna’s words came back to him. I will try and think of you as a wolf called Adam. She’d seen the wolf in him, too.

Is that what war does? It turns us into wolves? Or does the wolf have to be there to begin with?

“Adrian?” His mother touched his arm and he realized he’d gone silent for too long.

“I’m sorry. I just hope that she’ll return to the arts someday.”

“I do, too. I hope the time will come when we don’t need her martial talents so much, anymore. We’ve had so many losses. Most of us have had to develop new skills. Your cousin Julianna, for instance. She’s directing the intelligence service now.”

“Julianna?” Ash shook his head. “I never would have predicted that.”

“She’s very different from Mellony. Very different,” she repeated, for emphasis. “That’s becoming clearer every day.”

That had raised another question, one that Ash was afraid to ask. “If Julianna is heading up the intelligence service, then what about Cat Tyburn? What’s she doing?”

“She’s dead. Murdered. Nearly three years ago now.”

“Cat, too?” Ash took in that news like a punch to the gut. “I can’t imagine anyone taking her by surprise.”

“None of us can. No one is safe, apparently.”

“So maybe Lyss is safer in the army than here in the city. At least there, you know you have a fight on your hands.”

“Maybe. Anyway, it’s part of her role as a wartime queen.”

Ash handed the painting of his sister back. “I can understand why soldiers are willing to follow her. She looks . . . formidable.”

“She is. It’s not easy to get her to sit for a portrait. I tried to persuade her to wear a gown suitable for her name day, but she said she’d rather look like herself. I think she wants to put any possible suitors on notice.”

“Suitors?” Ash said, feeling pummeled. “Isn’t she a little young to be thinking about that?”

His mother smiled at his expression. “Her name day is this June, and that’s when that kind of talk begins. Not by her choice. She’s about as eager to get married as I was at that age.”

“That’s just a few months away.” It wasn’t easy to get his mind around that. It was as if he was going to lose his sister all over again.

“It doesn’t mean that she’ll be getting married anytime soon. Though I wasn’t that much older than she is when I married your father.” She sighed and twisted her wedding ring. “I’m glad, now, that I married young, so that Han and I had more time together. It was twenty-five years, but it just flew by.” She stood, extending her hand. “Speaking of your father, let’s go see him.”





20


IN THE CITY OF THE DEAD


His mother led the way through narrow passageways and up back staircases, taking routes he’d probably once known but had since forgotten. Fellsmarch Castle was a labyrinth of hidden ways, some of them built by his many-greats grandfather Alger Waterlow, and many added since. Growing up, Ash and his friends, including Finn sul’Mander, Ty Gryphon, and Ruby Greenholt, had burrowed into all the dark places, seeking routes that would enable them to go wherever they wanted, while avoiding parents and schoolmasters and nurses.

His mother had always had the uncanny ability to find him when she really wanted to. “Don’t fool yourself, Adrian. Though I don’t pretend to know all the secrets of this palace, there is no one living who knows them better than me.”

Eventually, Ash and his mother crossed the bridge into the cathedral temple. Ash had spent hours in the libraries there, studying old histories and books about healing plants and poisons and magic.

He’d spent less time in the sanctuary, preferring the small temple in his mother’s garden or Southbridge Temple, which seemed cozier to a small boy.

The Gray Wolf queens were not buried here. Their ashes were interred on the flank of a mountain that would forever after carry their names. Wolves run free.

But the cathedral was the final resting place for generations of royal relations, temple speakers, court officials, and friends of the Line. Most High Wizards preferred to be buried with their own kind on Gray Lady, where the Wizard Council met and many wizards had estates. But some had chosen to be buried here at the cathedral, close to the center of power.

The crypt was reserved for the most important of the dead—royal princes and princesses, consorts, and those bound captains who did not choose to be buried with their queens.

At first, Ash thought the sanctuary was unchanged from the last time he’d seen it, at his sister Hanalea’s funeral. But now he saw that there was a new side chapel, flooded with light from an adjacent courtyard.