Rise of Fire

by Sophie Jordan

  “Yes, Father. You recall the prince of Relhok’s companion.” There was no response, and even Chasan sounded uncertain as he added, “Luna.”

  “You’re the girl from today.” There was a touch of wonder in his voice.

  “Yes, Your Highness.” I self-consciously brushed a hand over my hair near my ear. Clearly I had undergone a transformation.

  “Stand,” he commanded.

  The bench was pulled out so quickly I nearly fell. I’d almost forgotten the existence of the king’s guards. Sadists. Apparently they were never far.

  The prince caught my arm, steadying me while turning me to face his father, but he said nothing. I’d almost prefer to hear his arrogant tone right then. In that moment, I realized the prince did not frighten me nearly as much as his father did.

  The king stepped forward. No one else moved or spoke, making it simple to mark him in the now deathly silent hall. He held total dominion, and that unnerved me. He could do whatever he wanted and everyone else would just sit back and watch no matter how they felt about it.

  “Turn around.”

  I hesitated a beat too long because the guard stepped forward again, grasping my arm and tugging me in a small circle. The king was so close. I could hear the puff of his breath.

  “Father?” Chasan voiced.

  “It cannot be,” the king muttered so quietly I knew he was talking more to himself than anyone else. Wariness crept over me. My pulse hiccuped at my neck, fighting to break free from my skin.

  Chasan spoke beside me. “What? What is it, Father?”

  “You are the very image of her,” Tebald whispered. His fingers grazed my cheek and I flinched.

  “Who, Father?”

  My heart dropped to my feet. Before he said anything I was already beginning to suspect that he knew. Perla’s many words came back to me. She had told me stories of my parents, and I had always hung on every word.

  Your mother had many suitors. Nobles from all over the land wanted to marry her. Princes and kings . . . but she chose your father.

  A woman like that, my mother, would be memorable.

  “Avelot.”

  At the hushed sound of my mother’s name, I lifted my chin high.

  “The late queen of Relhok?” Chasan finally asked, his voice rife with bewilderment.

  “Yes. This girl is identical to her. The mirror image. That face. Those eyes. Everything about her. The curve of her lips.”

  My hand drifted, touching my mouth. Perla had made similar remarks, and I always thought her merely embellishing, or trying to forge a connection in my mind for the mother I would never know.

  “Father, the king and queen died at the start of the eclipse. As did so many.”

  Those words woke and shook me from a lifelong slumber. No. My parents did not die at the hands of dwellers. I could have understood that. Not the betrayal. Not their slaughter at the behest of someone they trusted. Anger that I thought beyond me after all these years burned like a fever through me.

  “If this is not her, then it’s her child. The one she was carrying at the time of the eclipse. She would be of a like age,” the king intoned. “The child must have survived, and this is she.”

  I dragged in a shuddery breath, astonished at how accurately he had deduced the truth.

  “That’s not possible,” the prince said.

  “It is possible. I know what I see before me.” King Tebald’s gaze roamed over me, and I felt his absolute certainty. He knew. I could deny it. I could let his son continue to tell him he was wrong. But he knew.

  “The queen did not survive the dweller uprising on Relhok City. She never gave birth.” Prince Chasan spoke in a coaxing tone, as though his father were feeble-minded. He wasn’t even addressing me and yet his words hit a nerve. My last frayed nerve.

  I couldn’t hold silent. Not with fresh outrage pumping through me. And did it really matter? There was no hiding the truth anymore. The king knew.

  “No,” I growled, straining forward as that last nerve snapped free. “Dwellers did not kill my mother. Or my father. My parents were killed at the hand of the royal chancellor, the false king who now sits on the throne of Relhok.”

  A long pause followed my outburst before voices erupted all around me. My bravado fled in the volley of sound. The din was overwhelming and made me cringe and shrink into myself.

  The prince grabbed my elbow, his grip once again hard, as it had been on the Outside. He swung me to face him. “Luna, what the hell are you—”

  A steady clapping thundered through the room, close and deep and resounding. “I knew it! Splendid. Brilliant!” Tebald cheered. The buzz of voices ebbed at the king’s applause. “The true heir to the kingdom of Relhok stands before us.”

  Cold washed through me. My secret was out. Suddenly the light around me felt brighter, hotter on my skin. Sounds were more jarring, painful to my ears, the smells more overwhelming.

  I should have convinced him he was mistaken and there was no connection between the late queen and me. It didn’t matter how convinced he was; I should have tried to deny the truth.

  “Luna?” It was Chasan’s voice, hard and questioning, full of menace.

  I gave myself a swift mental shake. It would have only been a delay to the inevitable. The moment I arrived in Ainswind, it was simply a matter of time before I was exposed.

  There was no going back now.

  ELEVEN

  Luna

  I WAS LED to the dais at the far end of the room and seated to the right of the king as his honored guest—a fact that he declared loudly and effusively to all in the great hall. The initial excitement faded away, but I was far from forgotten. The prince was at my other side and Maris was close, to her father’s left. I sat stiffly, hands clutched in my lap in an attempt to still their shaking.

  Fortunately, I was given something to do when the food arrived. I ate with gusto, falling on the food like I had never eaten before. Apparently the biscuits had not been enough to tide me over. I stopped short of moaning, overcome at the taste and sheer abundance of it all.

  It also didn’t hurt that eating saved me from conversation. Chatter flowed around me, and I did my best to answer the king between bites of food and sips of a drink that made my head feel warm and fuzzy. As with the food I tasted, the drink was like nothing I had ever experienced, and I imbibed freely, licking the exotic juice from my lips, not wanting one drop lost.

  At one point a warm hand covered my own as I reached for my goblet again. “Have a care, princess. Those bigger and stronger than you have lost their heads over too much of this stuff.”

  I did not miss the emphasis the prince placed on the word princess. As though it were something loathsome and dirty on his tongue. Why should he resent the truth of my identity? It was almost as though he preferred me before, when I was just a peasant to him.

  And that’s when I sensed it. I felt their stares. Not all of them were delighted with my rise from the dead. Their resentment and dislike were palpable.

  I tugged free, eager to be rid of the sensation of the prince’s hand smothering mine. Lifting my goblet back to my lips, I took a greedy gulp and sighed, making the sound deliberately loud. “You don’t know me, Your Highness.” Nor do you have any inkling of the strength that lies in me . . . what I’m capable of . . .

  “No, princess. I don’t.”

  “Indeed,” an older voice that reminded me of crackling leaves inserted. The sound of it made me stop chewing and pay closer attention to the man seated on the other side of Chasan. “He does not. Nor do any of us know you. Sire,” he called out, the chair creaking as he leaned forward, “how can you be certain this girl is the heir to Relhok? For all we know, a fraud sits at your table.”

  I forgot my unease with Chasan and all those other hard-eyed gazes, asking the prince, “Who is that?”

  “Bishop Frand,” the prince answered, sounding smug.

  “Even if the girl had not admitted it, I would know,” King Tebald insisted
in lofty tones as he stuffed something into his mouth. He chewed for a moment, lips smacking before adding, “I spent many hours in the company of Lady Avelot. Her portrait hangs in my gallery. Take a look for yourself.”

  My head snapped in the king’s direction. “You have a portrait of my mother?”

  “Yes; I shall be happy to show it to you, my dear. Would you like that?”

  I nodded dumbly, because what else could I say? Of course a daughter would want to see a portrait of the mother she never knew. If only I could see. But I couldn’t. I would never see my mother. Never hear her voice. Never know her. But this man did, and it struck me as wholly unfair. It made me stuff food into my mouth faster, as though that would somehow fill the hollowness inside of me.

  “Yes, perhaps we should all inspect this portrait and make a comparison,” the bishop agreed, his voice snide in a way that made my shoulders tighten.

  “Bishop Frand, I can’t imagine why you need to weigh in on the matter at all.” The king’s voice lashed like a whip, a firm reminder that he alone was king here and the one to decide anything, most notably whether I was the heir to Relhok. Admittedly, it comforted me. For now, he was on my side. If we were at odds, it would be a different matter, but I didn’t need to think about that right now. Not yet. Hopefully, I would be gone from here before I ever had to worry about that.

  “I am certain you may wish to reflect on this more, Your Majesty. You’re never one for hasty decisions.” The bishop adopted a conciliatory tone, but his voice was no less grating. “The king of Relhok will not recognize this girl’s claim to the throne. It throws his and his son’s claim into jeopardy. And where will that leave your daughter, who is betrothed to King Cullan’s son?”

  With those words I knew the peril in which I’d just landed. Anyone here who did not want Cullan’s claim to the throne contested would not tolerate me. Suddenly, standing Outside surrounded by dwellers felt safer than this.

  “Should we really discuss such affairs right now?” the prince asked, his smooth voice sounding bored . . . and yet a tension emanated from him that belied the tone of his voice.

  The king slammed his goblet down on the table with a heavy clang. “I care not what might offend Cullan. He’s kept his son from me for two years, stringing me along, never revealing that he in fact was gone. Prince Fowler and Maris should have already wed. I am quite finished playing puppet to Cullan’s whims.”

  Still the bishop talked. “If you insist that she’s the late king’s daughter, consider what this means for our alliance, for our kingdom.” He did not know when to stop. Even I knew Tebald’s temper was high and he didn’t need to be pushed further.

  “Bishop Frand,” the king cut in. “I was not aware that you were appointed to the role of advisor. Nor are you so insightful that you can call yourself an oracle. No, we have not been fortunate enough to have an oracle in over twenty years. An oracle would be someone useful. We are left instead with you and your unbearably long sermons.”

  A taut silence fell over the hall. The king’s displeasure became thick, palpable as the steam that rose from the platters of freshly roasted meat that servers had just deposited on the tables.

  “Perhaps you need to take leave of us this evening and drop to your knees in prayer, Frand. After deep and thoughtful reflection, your insights might become something more valuable, something that I may require in the future.” The dismissal was clear.

  A heavy, awkward pause followed before the bishop pushed back his chair. The legs scraped over the stone floor, discordant and jarring in the silence. I felt his gaze scour me before his tread signaled his departure, his heavy receding steps indicating a man of great girth. In a world where people were starving and eating bats that led them to madness, he was corpulent.

  After he left, the hall gradually revived with conversation and the sounds of eating.

  Chasan leaned into my side again. “Already making friends.”

  I hesitated in tearing a piece of flaky bread that was seasoned with herbs and a flavorful oil that I had never tasted before. “That’s not my purpose here.”

  “Oh. You have a purpose, princess? Enlighten me.”

  His derision warned me that Frand wasn’t my only enemy. For whatever reason, this boy did not like me either. “Not that it’s your concern, but once Fowler is well, I’ll be on my way.” He chuckled at that. I stiffened. “Am I the butt of a joke?”

  “I’m merely amused.”

  “Why is that?”

  “You just revealed yourself to be the late King Relhok’s daughter . . . the true heir to Relhok. Cullan, the current ruler of Relhok, is my father’s greatest enemy or ally depending on the day.” He paused, and his arm stretched along the back of my chair, brushing my shoulders in a way that made me lean forward to escape him. “You aren’t going anywhere, princess. Possibly ever.”

  The food in my stomach suddenly felt like rocks as I turned his words over in my head. It seemed pretty clear then that the only way I was leaving this place was through a calculated escape. First order of business: ferret out information on all entrances and exits into the castle.

  “Scribe!” the king called, his voice carrying over the conversation of everyone in the great hall and drawing my attention from Chasan. “Send for the scribe!”

  Moments passed, and whisper-soft footsteps scurried over the polished floor. “Here, Your Majesty.”

  “Are you ready? Take a missive.” King Tebald didn’t wait for an answer before continuing, “It is with great joy that I share the news of the princess of Relhok’s survival and good health . . .” The scratching of quill on parchment filled the air. “She is safe and well and resides with us where, fear not, she will continue to prosper under our most diligent care and affections . . .”

  “Father, are you certain that you should alert him that we have her?” the prince asked, an edge to his voice.

  Have her. As though I were a possession.

  The significance of this sank in, and hope flared to life in me. Cullan would know I lived. He’d have no reason to continue killing girls in his hunt for me. “Yes,” I blurted. “Do it. Let him know.” Please, please, let him know.

  Chasan leaned closer again, his liquid voice turning acidic. “You’re not fully apprehending the situation. If Cullan killed your parents to control Relhok, he will not wish you well. He believes you dead now. Are you certain you wish to alert him to the contrary?”

  “He already knows,” I responded, my tone urgent, excited at stopping the slaughter of so many innocents with a mere letter from Tebald. “He’s looking for me. That’s what motivated his kill order. If he knows I live, he’ll lift the kill order. There will be no need for it.”

  “He may very well be looking for you, but he doesn’t know where you are.”

  “Let him know,” I boldly tossed down.

  At my emphatic words, the king chuckled lightly, alerting me that he had been listening from where he sat addressing the scribe. “You do remind me of your mother. She was a fine, spirited lass, too. Kind and full of mettle.” I smiled. I couldn’t stop myself. I no longer had this—no longer had Perla and Sivo whispering of past things.

  I listened with a light heart as the scribe finished taking down the king’s message.

  “Idiot girl,” Chasan muttered beside me.

  I bristled, liking him even less with every passing moment.

  “That takes care of that,” Tebald announced. “Cullan will know you live now and that you are here. You and Prince Fowler.”

  “How long will it take for him to receive the missive?” I asked, anxiousness making me sit up straighter.

  “Not long. We’ll send a courier bird out with it at once.”

  I ducked my head, so overcome with relief that tears burned my eyes. The senseless killing would stop. I wasn’t foolish enough to think Tebald’s motives altruistic, but the fact remained that he was helping me save lives. For that I was grateful.

  I sucked in a breath, relief war
ming a path through me. “Thank you,” I murmured. It was everything I wanted, after all . . . for Cullan to know I lived so that he would end his bloodthirsty hunt to find me. That had been the goal. Now if he wanted me dead, he could come after me directly. And maybe he would. I swallowed against the bitter lump in my throat, thinking of Chasan’s warning.

  I gave myself a hard mental shake. It didn’t matter. The importance of my life waned when held up against scores of others. All those girls, faceless innocents, would not die because of me. The only monsters they had to fight were the ones we all had to fight.

  Besides, I would be long gone from here before Cullan’s men showed up. I was uncertain where to go next. Could I continue on to Allu? Continue the journey I had set out on with Fowler? It seemed so long ago since we’d left my tower.

  I didn’t need to go to Relhok anymore. Not unless I was ready to lay claim to my throne . . . if that’s what I wanted to do. Did I want my throne? Did I need it to be mine? I had to sort out what was right—not just for me but for the people of Relhok. I winced. I knew that Cullan at the helm of the kingdom wasn’t what was right or best for anyone. Even Fowler, his son, knew that.

  “You’re quite welcome.” Tebald looked at me. I could feel his stare, cold as an icicle. I’d have to get over that. Perhaps it was just the way of kings—to stare so hard that their gazes felt like blades scraping the flesh back from your bones.

  We continued to eat, the conversation flowing more naturally, except from Chasan. He sat beside me, detached. “And how is it you come to be with Prince Fowler? That’s quite the coincidence. To say nothing of unusual,” he murmured after some moments. “Considering that you claim his father murdered your parents, he is the last person I would suspect you to ally with.”

  I bristled at the word claim. “You doubt the manner in which my parents died?”

  “A great many died in those early days of the eclipse.” He shifted in his chair beside me and I sensed his shrug. “I’m not saying you’re lying. Only that you could be mistaken.”