Two Dark Reigns (Three Dark Crowns #3)(85)

Pietyr freezes. For a moment, the Volroy cells are gone, and they are deep down in the heart of the island. There is no light. Only the smell of cold rot. And the feel of bony fingers wrapped around his ankle.

“You poor thing,” Madrigal says. “You truly love her. Hasn’t anyone ever told you?”

“Yes, yes,” he says as he stalks away. “Only a fool would love a queen.”

Once upstairs, he intends to saddle a horse for Greavesdrake, to go there for a night and think. Instead, he wanders into the throne room, where he hears Katharine along with Bree Westwood and the one-handed priestess.

“Pietyr,” says Katharine when she sees him enter, “you are just in time. Our good Elizabeth has consented to send her familiar, Pepper, to the naturalist rebel with a message. I was just considering calling Rho to determine the best place for the prisoner exchange.”

“Why can you not summon the rebel here?” he asks, still dazed from his conversation below.

“I do not think she would come. Or if she did, she may bring her entire upstart army, and I would spare the capital that. Besides, I want to march with some of my new soldiers.” She has the parchment out and has written a few lines. There is room for only a few more. It is a small roll, cut for the leg of a small bird.

Pietyr looks at the woodpecker clinging docilely to the priestess’s shoulder. Can he really be so fast? Can such a tiny thing truly make it into the north country in winter to find a rebel camp?

“Innisfuil Valley,” he hears himself say. “It is a neutral location, far enough from the capital and from any Bastian City reinforcements. And those devoted to the temple will look upon it as a good sign when a successful trade is held there.”

Katharine considers, then bends to scribble on the parchment. She rolls it up and hands it to Elizabeth, and they watch with quiet wonder as the little bird sticks his leg out to receive it.

“I never imagined you would send your own familiar, Elizabeth,” Katharine says. “I thought you would send a hawk or some other strange bird. I am truly grateful.”

“We are happy to be of service,” the priestess replies. “Happy to help avoid a war.”

Katharine smiles at Pietyr. He feels himself smiling back. It will not be long before they depart to march on Innisfuil Valley. Innisfuil Valley—and the Breccia Domain.





SUNPOOL




In the small courtyard at the rear of the castle, Mirabella watches the warrior Emilia Vatros and naturalist Jules Milone train together on the war gift. It does not look much like training: Emilia has brought a cord of wood, and the two are chopping it together. But as they work, the swing of their axes changes perceptibly; they swing straighter and faster, until the logs seem to split themselves.

The Legion Queen. That is what they call Jules now, this rebellion that Mirabella and Arsinoe have so conveniently stumbled into. The people bestowed the title of queen so quickly. So lightly. As if it never carried any weight at all.

“Take care!” Emilia shouts when Jules’s blade misses. She wrenches it out by the handle and swats her. “Just because it feels like nothing to move, does not mean it isn’t dangerous. It’s still an ax. Mind it!”

Jules nods and begins again. She takes direction well. She does not seem like the same girl Mirabella met those few times before. The simmering anger is gone, and her stance is such that she seems much taller than she really is. Even the cat seems larger and more confident, lying draped across the waiting wood with her tail flicking lazily back and forth.

Jules looks different. She is different. But she is still not a queen.

“A break,” Jules says, and Mirabella steps out and claps softly. She joins Jules beside the cougar as she drinks a cup of water.

“You are doing very well.”

Jules crooks her lip.

“Thanks. I feel as wobbly as a young colt.”

“Your war-gifted friend is clever, to combine training with a necessary chore.”

“Always work to be done when you’re raising a rebellion,” says Jules. She holds out the cup. “Water?”

“No thank you.”

“Arsinoe won’t tell me much about why you all are back here. Only that you’re headed up the slope of Mount Horn.”

Mirabella nods.

“I am sure she would tell you if she knew more herself.”

Jules looks down at her hands. “She says you’re going back as soon as your business is finished.”

“I am relieved that she would say so,” Mirabella says, and exhales. “Part of me feared that the moment she saw you, she would vow to stay forever, no matter the danger.”

“You shouldn’t have let her come, you know. You should’ve made her stay away.”

“I do know. Just as you know how impossible that would have been, without the use of ropes and chains.”

Jules smiles grudgingly, and Mirabella feels a surge of fondness. For ten years, all the years between the Black Cottage and the Ascension, Jules was the one who looked after Arsinoe. She saved her life on the day of the Queens’ Hunt. Saved them all on the day of the duel. But she still does not like to meet Mirabella’s eye.

“Arsinoe says you buried him instead of burning.”

“Yes,” Mirabella replies. “That is how they do it there. He rests atop a green hill, looking out at the sea.”