Kingdom of Ashes

by Rhiannon Thomas

  “No,” Nettle said sharply. “Of course I did not kill that little girl. And neither did Finnegan. He has flaws, but he would not include a child in his schemes. He certainly would not try to hurt you. I do not know who killed her.”

  Nettle looked sincere, unsettled by the accusation, but that did not explain why Nettle had been at the ball, or why she was here now. “And I’m supposed to believe you?”

  “Yes,” Nettle said. “Do you honestly think I am a murderer? That I would work with someone who was? I was at that banquet to watch, Princess. Another set of eyes and ears. Nothing more.”

  “Then you must know who it was,” Aurora said. She was almost shouting now. She bit her lip to keep the words in, to control her anger before it gave their presence away. “If you were there to watch. You could have stopped it.”

  “Princess—” Nettle reached for Aurora’s arm, but Aurora stepped out of reach.

  “No,” she said. “No. Have you been watching me, all this time? Is that why you were at the Dancing Unicorn when I went there? Are you supposed to be bringing me to him?”

  “No, Princess,” Nettle said softly. “I did not tell him any of your secrets. I was in Petrichor to watch the rebels there, before you ever awoke. And he wanted me to help you. He did not ask me to force you to go to Vanhelm, and I would not have done so if he had. He was concerned for your well-being. As was I.”

  “I can take care of myself.” Nettle just watched Aurora, a few loose strands of hair around her face, and waited for her to speak again. “Where are you leading me?” Aurora said eventually. She should have asked more questions before she followed her. They had been going away, and that had been enough, but now her naïveté felt beyond foolish.

  “As far from that village as we can get in one night. There is no trap, Aurora. But we cannot be caught out here when the sun rises.”

  “Where?” Aurora said. “I won’t go into another village. Not now.” Not until she had her magic under control.

  “You won’t,” Nettle said. “I have somewhere safe in mind. A cave. But we must continue if we are to reach it. You do not have to trust me. You can run from me now and I will not follow you. But I want you to be safe, and I think you will be safer with me.”

  “Of course you think that,” Aurora said. But she did not move away. Nettle had protected her from the guards. And whatever her motivations, she did not seem to want to hurt Aurora. Quite the opposite. Aurora straightened her back and started to walk along the stream again. Nettle walked beside her.

  “Were you there?” Aurora said. “What happened in the village—did you see—?”

  “It was already burning when I arrived,” Nettle said. “But the soldiers did nothing to stop the fire. I saw them rounding up the villagers, stopping them from protecting their homes. They took them all away.”

  “It was me,” Aurora said. “It was my fault.” She had destroyed a whole village, condemned its people just by her presence.

  “Your magic got out of your control?”

  “You already know about that?” She did not know why she was surprised. How long had Nettle been watching her, noting details for later dissection?

  “I saw you,” Nettle said. “At your presentation, at your wedding. And this fire was not begun by John’s men. It is not so difficult to notice.”

  “I destroyed that village,” Aurora said. “I didn’t mean to. It was an accident, but—it was me.” She had grown up hearing how magic was evil, fearing the curse, knowing that it could only twist and destroy. This was her proof. Her magic was no different from any other.

  “You may have begun it,” Nettle said, “but the king’s men were the ones who let it destroy the village. They are the ones who will use it against you.”

  Aurora’s feet throbbed as they walked. She stumbled slightly, but she refused to slow down. The stream eventually trickled into nothing, and Nettle veered away from the path it had suggested, leading Aurora to the edge of another forest.

  The sky was beginning to lighten when Nettle rested a hand on Aurora’s elbow. “There is a cave up the bank here,” she said. “Hard to spot unless you know it. We should rest there.”

  “A cave?” Aurora couldn’t see any gaps in the bank. “What if they find us? We’ll have nowhere to run.”

  “You are safer hiding under cover than out in the open. But you may go elsewhere, if you wish.”

  Nettle began to climb the bank, placing each foot so that no earth was disturbed. Aurora glanced over her shoulder again, but she had nowhere else to go. She followed, careful to step in the same spots each time.

  Aurora hesitated at the cave entrance, ready for some betrayal, but the singer was already spreading out her blankets. She lay a couple of water skins beside them, along with more bread and a collection of nuts. “You must be hungry,” she said, as Aurora stepped inside. “Eat. Slowly.”

  Aurora had almost forgotten the pain in her stomach after the horror of the day. She tore off a small piece of bread and bit into it. It was slightly stale, and the effort of chewing made her jaw ache. It had to be the most delicious thing she had ever eaten.

  She sank against the side of the cave, and her calves throbbed in relief. She kicked off her bloodstained shoes.

  “Your feet,” Nettle said. “They need attention.”

  “They’ll be fine,” Aurora said. “I’m just—I’m not used to walking.”

  “Certainly not in wedding shoes. May I?” Nettle gripped Aurora’s ankle and studied her sole. Aurora refused to look. She knew they were a mess, from the pain with every step and the stains on the inside of her shoes. She did not want to see for herself.

  If it was bad, Nettle’s face did not show it. “I am going to fetch some more water to clean this,” she said. “We must hope it is not infected. Be careful while I am gone.”

  Aurora watched her step out of the cave. Her feet throbbed, already too swollen to fit back into her shoes, and a headache pounded behind her eyes. She would fight if she needed to fight, but she could not run before she knew it was necessary.

  When Nettle returned, she knelt beside Aurora again and pulled a worn dress from her pack. With one sharp motion, she tore a shred from the bottom edge.

  “Your dress!” Aurora said.

  “I have others,” Nettle said, her expression unchanged. She swept her hair over one shoulder and dabbed the rag in the water. Aurora hissed as it touched her blisters. Nettle worked in silence, each movement gentle. When she had finished, she tilted her head, studying her handiwork. “We should bind this,” she said. “To keep it clean. It will make it easier for you to walk too.” She tore another strip from the dress and began to wrap it around Aurora’s foot, ignoring her hiss of pain. Once she had tied it tight, she turned her attention to the other foot.

  “Tell me,” she said, as she wet another strip. “What is it that you plan to do now?”

  “I assume you want me to go to Vanhelm.”

  “Finnegan would like you to,” Nettle said. “I have no preference, as long as you are safe.”

  “And why do you care?”

  “I know what it is like, Princess, to go running out here alone. Finnegan can take care of his own affairs. But am I wondering: what do you intend to do?”

  Aurora swallowed and rested her head against the cave wall. “I don’t know,” she said. That was the hardest thing to admit, that she had run without any idea what running would really be like. She had rejected two offers of support, from Finnegan and from the witch Celestine, and she had run out into the world without a goal, without a destination, with nothing in her mind but being elsewhere. “I only know I can’t stay here.”

  “No,” Nettle said. “You cannot.”

  There was Falreach, across the mountains. Her mother’s kingdom. The court there might have helped her, if it had not once been Queen Iris’s home. Then there were the farther kingdoms, Palir or Eko or beyond, but they were thousands of miles away. Too far to walk, and although they might be a good place
to hide, she would never find support.

  And then Vanhelm, the dragon kingdom across the sea. Prince Finnegan had pledged his support, but could she trust him to help her? He had never been entirely honest with her.

  “Why aren’t you encouraging me to go to Vanhelm, if you work for Finnegan?”

  “I bring him information,” Nettle said, “not people. Watching you was already an unusual task for me, although I was glad to do it. And do not doubt I will tell Finnegan what you choose to do. But I will not force you into anything.”

  Nettle began to bandage the second foot. Already, Aurora felt better, calmer. She pulled her necklace out from under her dress. The dragon pendant had its wings unfurled, one leg poised as though about to take flight. A blood-red jewel glinted in its eye. She twisted it between her fingertips, as though it might carry the answer. “Do you think I should trust him?”

  “I could not say.” Nettle tied the bandage in place. “He will always put his own concerns first, whatever that may mean. You must be careful with him. But he is honest, too. He does not act cruelly, or without reason. He is not a bad choice for an ally.” She held Aurora’s hand. “Test your feet,” she said. “It should be easier to walk now.”

  Aurora winced as she put weight on her bandaged feet, but although they still ached, they were far sturdier than they had been before. She took a tentative step forward. “It’s good,” she said. “Thank you.” She crossed the cave, each step careful, and rested a hand against the wall.

  Nettle nodded and bent down to tidy her pack, hiding her expression from view.

  “Nettle,” Aurora said softly. “If you were watching the rebels in Petrichor . . . do you know what happened to them?”

  Nettle shook her head as she folded her torn dress. “Not since I left. Their plans were always weak. But that only made them more dangerous, I thought. Their actions had consequences they did not intend. If you are thinking of asking for their help—”

  “No,” Aurora said. She sat and pressed her chin onto her knees. “I’m not.” Even if she could find one of them, she could not trust them or their plans, not after what she had seen. A raid on the dungeons that left many prisoners dead. A foolish display that almost caused a riot and cost a guard his life. They had no strategy, no morals, no discipline. She could not work with them.

  But she had one other option, a thought that had plagued her more and more as the days passed. Celestine. Every day, she felt as though the witch were watching her, like she would turn around and see her blue eyes burning through the darkness. Celestine had asked Aurora to join her the last time she had seen her, as Aurora ran from her wedding. She had hinted that Aurora would regret turning her away, that she would beg to join her in the end. And she had hinted that Aurora’s mother had made a bargain with her. A bargain the queen failed to keep. A bargain that led to Aurora’s curse.

  Had she cursed Aurora with this, too? With magic she could not control, that burned and burned until it destroyed everything around her?

  Celestine had answers. But Aurora could not face her. Everyone who bargained with her suffered for their naïveté. But the idea whispered to Aurora. Celestine would have all the answers she needed, if only she was willing to ask for them.

  “You should rest,” Nettle said. “You do not need to decide what to do yet.”

  “Is it safe?” Aurora asked. “To sleep?”

  “It is safer than not sleeping. Go on. I will not betray you.”

  It was strangely soothing to hear Nettle state her fear so bluntly. Aurora wrapped herself in one of the blankets and rested her head against the wall. Nettle settled against the opposite side, her cheek pressed against the stone. And although Aurora still felt tense, although it was too soon to assume that she was safe, she was too exhausted to stay awake. The moment she closed her eyes, she was asleep.

  When she awoke, it was dark outside. Nettle was gone, but her pack was still there. Aurora stretched her stiff back. She had slept better than she had for a week at least, and with the rest had come clarity.

  She could not stay in Alyssinia, not when it meant hiding in the forest and doing nothing of use. But she could not abandon the kingdom entirely either. She had to help the people there, those like the baker, who supported her, who were relying on her to save them from the king’s fury. She had to stop the king. But she also had to stop herself, to get this unpredictable magic under control.

  Finnegan was her only option. She did not trust him, but he seemed to know things. He had hinted at her magic, called her “little dragon.” And she had set a village alight. Was that not what dragons did?

  He had helped her before, even if it had led to bloodshed. He might have an agenda of his own, but it seemed to match Aurora’s own goals, at least for now. He could help her to regroup, before John cornered her again.

  And he wanted her support enough to ask Nettle to follow her, enough to ensure her safety and convince her to join him again. That gave her leverage. He wanted something from her. That would make it easier to get what she wanted from him.

  “Nettle,” she said, when the singer reemerged with a selection of plants in her hand. “I’ve decided. I want to go to Vanhelm.”

  THREE

  THEY TRAVELED MOSTLY BY NIGHT, AVOIDING THE roads. Aurora’s feet still throbbed, but Nettle’s bandages kept the blisters at bay. She borrowed some of Nettle’s traveling clothes, shortening them so that she could walk. They talked little, but sometimes Nettle sang under her breath, snatches of melodies that Aurora did not recognize.

  Nettle left every couple of days to visit a town and buy supplies, leaving Aurora hidden in a cave or a tree. She would return with fresh food and a carefully neutral expression.

  “What’s the news?” Aurora would say. “What’s happened?”

  The stories were never good. Guards tearing towns apart looking for her. Merchants hassled on the roads, their stock tossed into the dirt. Rumors of continuing chaos in the capital, of rebels fighting, homes destroyed, executions in the street. And news of one village, then three, then six, that had been burned by the princess in her hatred for the kingdom.

  Nettle reported it all in a steady voice, not pausing from preparing dinner or tidying her pack to give the news. Just neutral, just facts, as though the whole kingdom were not in ruins because of Aurora’s actions.

  “I finally received Finnegan’s note,” Nettle said, after she returned from one such trip. “He has agreed to send us a boat. I am glad we heard from him—we are only nearing the rendezvous point I suggested, and it would not be safe to linger there or find a boat ourselves.”

  “Do you think the king’s men are following us?”

  Nettle shook her head. “Their searches have become haphazard. They do not know where you are. But we do not want that to change.”

  It took them several more days to reach the coast, but one dawn they climbed over the peak of a hill, and the ocean was there. It rolled ahead of them, the water a churning, fitful gray. A ship bobbed a hundred feet offshore, surprisingly steady in the turmoil.

  Aurora paused at the top of the hill to stare at it. The ocean. It was wilder than she had pictured, almost angry, as though challenging onlookers to try and cross. A chilled wind blew in from the water, and Aurora wrapped her cloak over her chest. The air tasted of salt.

  It was the end of the kingdom. The end of the world, at least as Aurora had known it. Aurora took a deep breath, savoring the sharpness of the air. And then she set off down the hill, Nettle close behind.

  A gruff-looking man waited beside a rowboat on the shore. He nodded at Aurora and Nettle as they approached. Nettle murmured a few words to him, and he nodded again and gestured at the boat without a word. Aurora glanced at the churning water, and then back over her shoulder at the forest.

  If she got into the boat, she could not turn back. She would not be able to escape, not even if the sailors betrayed her. But she had to trust them. Finnegan had resources, knowledge about things she could only guess
at. He was the best potential ally she had.

  She stepped into the boat. It rocked, and she stumbled onto the bench. Nettle stepped in beside her, making the boat lurch again. Once they were both settled, the man began to row.

  Aurora stared as the shore grew smaller and smaller, the trees blending into a mass of brown and green.

  She let out a breath. She had wanted to travel for as long as she could remember, to see everything. And now the sea rocked beneath her, and the earth was falling away, and it hurt to see it go. She had not wanted to leave like this.

  But she would be back. She had to come back.

  The boat sailed away, and by the time the sun set, Aurora could no longer make out the Alyssinian shore. She stood on deck, leaning on the side of the ship, watching where the coast had been. Her kingdom had slipped into the mist, and another approached. Vanhelm. Finnegan’s domain.

  She needed to know precisely what she wanted before she arrived. She needed to stride up to his castle with her demands laid out, her offer perfectly articulated. Otherwise the sharp-tongued prince would tie her hopes in knots. She could not wait for good luck here, could not rely on his good favor.

  She wanted to know everything he knew about her curse and her magic. She wanted to know why he called her “dragon girl,” and why he wanted this connection so badly. She wanted him to help her to figure out her powers and stop the king. But without knowing what Finnegan wanted from her, it was difficult to predict where their negotiations would go from there.

  A cold wind tossed her hair and made her shiver. The ocean and the sky all melted together, the water reflecting blurry images of the stars.

  She leaned forward to glimpse the foam that bounced in the wake of the ship. The railing dug into her stomach.

  Tristan once told her an elaborate tale about being a pirate. Something about being kidnapped, becoming captain of a crew. All invented, obviously, but she had thought that truth lingered behind his jokes. He was not from Petrichor. He was lighthearted, a joker, with a lively imagination. That had seemed enough to know about a person, enough to trust him. To go out into the dark with him, to hold his hand on slanting roofs and dwell in secrets together.