Kingdom of Ashes

by Rhiannon Thomas

  What a fool she had been.

  Nettle emerged from belowdecks, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders, her black hair flying loose about her face. “You must be careful,” she said. “The sea can be rough.”

  “I will be.”

  A shadow moved on the horizon. Another ship, perhaps.

  “You are wary of me,” Nettle said. “I understand that.”

  “I’m not wary of you,” Aurora said. Nettle had saved her life, bandaged her injuries, walked for days beside her, slept under the same shelter. That created a connection. Aurora respected her. She appreciated her presence. Perhaps she even liked her. But she did not know if she could trust her. “I’m wary of your connection with Finnegan.”

  Nettle was quiet for another few moments. “I am not an extension of him, Aurora. I do not act blindly on his behalf. I help him, but only with what I wish. Only when I think it is right.”

  “You followed me on his orders.”

  “On his request. And it was something I was happy to do. I was concerned about you.”

  “Because I needed help.”

  “Yes,” Nettle said. “Because I know what that is like.”

  Did it make a difference, whether Nettle was forced to watch her or asked to watch her? It had been Finnegan’s scheme either way. Aurora stared at the water, the darkness shifting beneath them. Anything she said to Nettle could potentially be reported to Finnegan. But Nettle was also the best source of information Aurora had.

  “What does Finnegan want from me?” Aurora asked. “Why did he send you?”

  “I think he is fascinated by your magic.”

  “Fascinated? What does that mean?”

  “I do not know,” Nettle said. “I would not like to speculate. He must think it useful. But that is obvious, is it not? Magic in a magic-less world. Anyone would want that.”

  Aurora nodded. It made sense, and it was something she could use. She could not control her magic yet, but Finnegan seemed to have some knowledge about it, details he had not told her. If he wanted to use her magic himself, then he had to help her develop it. And he did not know about Celestine. He would offer many things in return for what he believed was the only magic left in the world.

  “But do not think that is all,” Nettle continued after a moment. “I believe he cares about you.”

  “Cares about me?”

  “About your well-being, at least. He is selfish, Aurora, but he can be kind too.”

  It fitted what Aurora had seen of him before she left. Finnegan had intrigued her, too, for all the ways he irritated her. But something felt slightly off about Nettle’s words. “You’re being very open with me.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Telling me about Finnegan’s plans, telling me how he might feel . . . you told me you were his spy, when I doubt that is something that spies are meant to say. I don’t understand it.”

  Nettle learned forward too, staring at the water. “I am serious about my work, Aurora,” she said. “But I thought you deserved honesty. I know what it is like to be lost. I would not want to make it any harder for you than it already is.”

  Aurora tilted her head to look at her. “Why do you work for Finnegan?” she said. “Why him?”

  Nettle was quiet for a long moment as she continued to watch the water. “I come from a place where everyone knows everybody, and where they all think they have a right to tell you what to do. And I did not want it. I did not feel like me there. I wanted to see everything else there was. So I turned sixteen, and I left. I did not realize how hard travel would be. One kingdom and then the next, people were cruel to me. They took advantage of me, they stole from me, and I thought, ‘Oh. This is what people are like.’ And I was sure that Finnegan was no different from the rest of them. But he saw my talents. How I had learned to hide, how I knew how to observe, to read people. We became friends. And he asked me to help him.”

  “So you did?”

  “I can still travel, still observe people. But I do not go hungry. Far from it. And I have something like a friend. You will realize, Aurora, how valuable these things are.”

  “I know how valuable they are.”

  “You may recognize it, but do you know it? Before this week, you had never been hungry. You’ve never gone weeks without another person to talk to, or had people treat you like you are worthless because you dare to be from somewhere they are not. You should not judge me for accepting his alliance, or think it means I cannot care about you or want to help you.”

  Aurora watched the waves rise and fall. “I don’t judge you,” she said softly. “It’s just that—” Everything was tangled in her head, her respect for Nettle, her wariness, all of the hopes and the betrayals. “Since I woke up, no one has been who they claimed to be. Everyone has had some scheme, some motive. Tristan wanted me in his rebellion, the king and queen wanted me as a puppet, and even Finnegan had a plan to help me run, as soon as I said the word. And now you. You were just supposed to be a singer. Not a puzzle, just you. And now—now I don’t know.”

  “Perhaps that is the problem,” Nettle said. “No one is just anything. Everyone will have more layers than you expect.”

  “More layers does not mean being a spy.”

  “And being a spy does not make one bad. It does not mean a person wants to use you.”

  “No,” Aurora said. “I know.” And she did. She could understand Nettle’s motivation, could see the kindness in her. But she did not know what to say after that, so she turned to look at the horizon again.

  When Aurora woke up the next day, she could taste smoke on the air. Nettle was not in her cabin, and Aurora could see nothing through the porthole but water, so she climbed the stairs onto the main deck. Nettle was leaning against the side of the ship, staring at the coastline.

  It was a wasteland, black and red. Smoke curled from the ground, and even the sky above seemed scorched and severe. All life had been purged from the place, leaving a charred, hollow shell. It seemed wrong, for such harshness to exist so close to the roiling water.

  Aurora had never imagined that anything could look like this. That this was what waited across the water, this was the world beyond her kingdom’s borders.

  Aurora crept to Nettle’s side. It felt wrong, somehow, to move too quickly or speak too loudly with the desolation before them. “What is this place?”

  “Vanhelm,” Nettle said. “Once.”

  Vanhelm. When Aurora had pictured Finnegan’s kingdom, she had thought it much like her own, with forests and castles and life. Not these contorted ruins, smoke and ash.

  “What happened?”

  Nettle looked steadily across the water. “Dragons.”

  She spoke so matter-of-factly. But there was nothing left. Nothing. How could dragons have done all this?

  They passed what might have been a house, close to the water. The walls had melted inward, like the building was cowering under the harsh sun.

  “From the way Finnegan spoke, what Iris said . . . I did not think it would be like this.”

  “It does not need to be said. And this is not the kingdom now. When they say Vanhelm, they mean the island, the capital,” she said. “A world in one city.”

  Aurora stared at the home of her ancestors, all burned away. “Only one city survived?” she said. “Just one?”

  “Just one,” Nettle said. “It was the only place that was surrounded by water. It was the only place that was safe.” The wind caught her hair, sending black strands dancing across her face.

  “Did a lot of people live outside the city? Before—before it became this?”

  “Many people,” Nettle said. “Most of them did not escape.”

  How many people had lived in this one part of Vanhelm alone? Thousands would have died. Tens of thousands. More than she could fathom.

  Aurora clutched the dragon necklace that still hung around her neck. The distant smoke scratched her throat.

  Finnegan had compared her to the dragons, and th
ey had woken up and burned his whole kingdom away. What, then, did he expect to come of her?

  FOUR

  THE CITY OF VANHELM APPEARED GRADUALLY ON THE horizon. It was a shape at first, a gray disturbance in the morning mist, but as the boat glided closer, it gained form, became buildings, towers and spires, all different heights, all reaching into the sky. Aurora had thought that Petrichor was impressive, with its higgledy-piggledy streets, sprawling from the castle in all directions, but Vanhelm was breathtaking. As intimidating as the wasteland in its own way, but gleaming too, like a city overflowing with secrets.

  Their ship reached the port midafternoon. The dock heaved with people, jostling to approach the boats, holding coins aloft and shouting destinations. Traders strained against the crowd, hauling crates marked with the crests of Alyssinia, of Falreach and Eko, while fishermen sat with their feet in the water, sorting their catches for the day.

  A wall separated the dockyard from the rest of the city, with an unguarded archway allowing people to pass back and forth. Finnegan leaned against it, watching Aurora and Nettle struggle through the crowd. The prince seemed even more handsome than the last time Aurora had seen him. She had forgotten the infuriating twist to his grin and the contrast between his green eyes and black hair, the way he stood like he had never been uncertain in his life. He watched her as she approached.

  A couple of men waited a few paces away from him. Guards, Aurora assumed. Other people glanced at the prince as they hurried past, but they did not stop.

  “You’re late,” Finnegan said.

  “The ship was delayed,” Nettle said. She stepped closer to him, but she did not curtsy. They were almost the same height. “We can hardly control that.”

  “Aurora might, if she tried. I’ve been waiting for hours.” He pulled Nettle into a hug. She pressed a kiss to his cheek. Then he turned to Aurora. “Aurora,” he said. He took her hand and kissed her knuckles. It reminded her of the last time he had kissed her, as he slipped a map of his city into her palm. And before that, a brush of lips against her cheekbone, late at night in the castle. “It is a pleasure to see you again.”

  She gave Finnegan what she hoped was a firm, fearless smile. “I am glad to see you as well.”

  “Are you? I was under the impression that you wouldn’t come here unless you had no other choice.”

  She stopped smiling. “I’m sure you’re used to being considered a last resort,” she said. “But if you are too insulted, I will get the next ship out of the city.”

  “I wouldn’t recommend it. Our friend King John is hunting for you. You’re not fool enough to go back there now.”

  “No,” she said, “but Vanhelm isn’t the only place I can hide.”

  “Then it’s a good thing I’m so charming. But let’s not talk about it here. It’s too bright a day for politics, don’t you think? I’ll walk you and Nettle to the palace.”

  Finnegan led them down the cobbled road, weaving in and out of the crowd. Petrichor had been busy, but Vanhelm was a whirlwind of people and noises and smells. The streets were cast into shadow by buildings that towered into the sky. Aurora craned her neck, trying to count the windows in the buildings as they passed. Ten, twenty . . . they stretched on forever, blocking out the light.

  A man stood on the next street corner. He waved a bundle of papers, shouting at anyone who came near. “Beware your doom,” he said, the words ringing above the chaos of the street. “The dragons have come to purge this land! Repent of your sins before their fires purge your flesh!” He brandished the pamphlet at Aurora as she passed.

  “Do people really believe that?” Aurora asked Nettle.

  “People believe what they want to believe. I have never been one for trusting in the divine.”

  “But they think the dragons are divine?”

  “Or tools of some gods,” Nettle said. “Gods that have been long forgotten or ignored. People will always come up with reasons to explain away their terror. To tell themselves that they will be safe.”

  They saw a few more men on street corners—and they were always men—shouting at passersby. No one else even looked up. It seemed like they were a common sight, seen so often that nobody noticed them anymore.

  Aurora’s feet were soon stinging from walking on the unrelenting stone. Her legs ached, yet her body hummed, every new street sending a thrill through her. The city was so different from Petrichor, different from anywhere she had ever been before. It had an energy to it, a drive that Alyssinia had lacked.

  The palace, when they reached it, was not as tall as the buildings around it, but was wide, with columns along the front. It commanded attention, separated from the street by a large courtyard filled with stone fountains.

  Finnegan led them into the courtyard. A couple of girls sat on the edge of a nearby fountain, their hands trailing in the water. Finnegan bowed to them, and they broke into giggles.

  Wide marble steps swept from the courtyard to the palace itself. The building’s double doors were flanked with bronze dragons. Guards bowed as Finnegan approached.

  “Where’s my mother today?” he asked them.

  “Her Majesty is in her study,” one of the guards said. “Would you like an escort?”

  “No, I won’t disturb her.” The guard reached for the door, but Finnegan waved him away and pushed it himself. “Guests first,” he said to Aurora.

  She stepped inside. Two high windows beckoned in the sunlight, making the entrance hall feel bright and airy. The roof, many stories above, was a glass dome, surrounded by swirling painted designs that glittered in the sun. A huge staircase swept ahead of them, covered with a plush red carpet. The hall had only one door, to the left of the staircase, watched by another guard. The other side of the room narrowed into a corridor, but Aurora could not see where it ended.

  A glass dragon stood before the staircase. The light bounced off it, making it almost appear to move. It had the same stance as the one on Aurora’s necklace, wings unfurled, one front leg poised in the air, as though about to fly. Its emerald eye seemed to follow Aurora as she stepped closer. She ran her hand along its neck. Its glass spines dug into her palm.

  “This is the same as the dragon on my necklace,” she said.

  “You don’t like the design? It’s the symbol of my fair kingdom. These dragons have a nasty habit of cropping up when you’re not looking.” He headed toward the staircase. “Come on. I’ll show you to your rooms.”

  “No.” Aurora stopped, her hand still resting on the dragon’s neck. She needed to show strength now, before he gained any more of an upper hand. “We need to discuss our alliance.”

  “Now? Before a hot bath and a long rest?” The words were almost concerned, but Aurora heard a hint of mockery in them. “Surely diplomacy can wait.”

  “Now,” she said. “I think we need to make some things clear before we begin, don’t you agree?”

  “How forward thinking of you,” he said. “Don’t you trust me, Aurora? I’m not trying to trap you with hospitality.”

  “I just think we need to be clear.”

  “Whatever the princess demands. Nettle, you remember the way to your usual rooms, I assume?”

  “I would be a poor spy if I could not even recall that, would I not?” Nettle smiled. She glanced at Aurora, and although she only blinked, Aurora got the strong feeling the look was encouraging her. “I will speak to you both later.” And with a slight nod, she swept up the stairs.

  “So,” Finnegan said to Aurora. “Negotiation. Are you certain you’re ready for this?”

  “Let’s find out.”

  Finnegan led her up the stairs after Nettle and through another guarded door to the left. “The palace is pretty straightforward,” he said. “All the rooms to the right are public state rooms and guest rooms. All the rooms to the left, through this door or the one below, are private. I recommend you stay in those as much as you can, if you wish to remain anonymous.”

  She could not see what good it would do.
Someone would notice her presence. The servants, if not the court. “What should I say if someone in the court sees me? I don’t know if we can trust them with the truth.”

  “We don’t have a court,” Finnegan said. “It’s hard for nobility to exist when dragons unexpectedly destroy most of your kingdom.”

  “They all died?”

  “Most,” he said. “But we also do things a bit . . . fairer here than in Alyssinia. Guilds deal with their own affairs. And my mother manages it all, to the cost of her social life and beauty sleep.”

  “Your mother?” she asked. “The queen?”

  “Of course. I’ll introduce you to her at some point, but not today.”

  She frowned. “Am I supposed to be a secret?” Hiding from a nonexistent court was one thing, but hiding from the queen?

  “No one has secrets from my mother,” he said. “I just want to wait. Until we’ve settled our agreement here. We’ll tell everyone else that you’re a visitor from Falreach. Rose. A foreign noble visiting to use the library. No one will ask questions.”

  “Assuming I stay here,” she said, as they approached another guarded door.

  “Of course,” Finnegan said. “Assuming that you stay.” He nodded to the guard as he pushed the door open. “Could you find someone to bring a platter to my study, Smith? Anything will do.”

  “Yes, Your Highness,” the guard said. “Of course.”

  Beyond was a bright corridor, lit by a single floor-to-ceiling window at the end. Several doors were ajar. Finnegan led her into a sitting room, with green armchairs and a book abandoned spine-up on the coffee table. The Rushes, the title said.

  “You can borrow it if you like,” Finnegan said, when he saw her looking. “But it’s not very good. A bit too pretentious for my tastes.”