It had taken mere seconds.
The men shuffled around in the darkness of the hallway, grunting and tripping over the bodies of their erstwhile jailers. Then light bloomed in a doorway off the darkened corridor.
“In here,” came a familiar voice.
Sora hurried forward, Oat close by her side, and ducked into a small sitting room. Lady Atria waited inside, an Everlight clutched in her hand.
“Are you all right, darling?” she asked. She wore a deep-green gown and the same scarlet cloak she’d had on earlier. Snow clung to her hem. She must have had to run full tilt to get here ahead of them. “My dear Sora, you gave such a lovely speech today. Brought a tear to my eye. Oh, gentlemen, do join us.”
The others crowded into the small room, pushing back the table to make room. Telvin offered her a crisp bow, and Sora’s cheeks warmed. She felt bad for doubting him earlier. He was decent and noble after all!
“This guy’s heavier than I thought,” Kel said as he and the man with the red beard dragged their captive through the door. “Whew, thanks for your help, Yuri. Lieutenant Benzen needs to lay off the goat pies.” Kel straightened and cracked his back. “Forgive me, my queen. Kelad Korran, at your service.”
“But . . . but you were with the Rollendars,” Sora said. The reality of what had just happened was dawning on her. She had been rescued!
“I was spying on them for Dara,” Kel said. “I got caught, but in the confusion surrounding the death of my liege, your surviving enemies failed to realize I wasn’t still on their side. The Lantern Maker decided to keep me on the Guard, along with the rest of Bolden’s men.” He nudged Lieutenant Benzen’s prone form with his toe.
“So you weren’t one of the men who killed my brother?” Sora asked.
Kel blinked. “Killed . . . My lady, I am loyal to the Amintelles. Besides, I’m not convinced your brother is dead.”
“What?”
“I saw him and Dara in the Great Hall during the Lantern Maker’s attack,” Kel said. “I don’t want to get your hopes up, but I definitely didn’t see their bodies afterwards. They made a run for it.”
Sora clutched the high back of a nearby chair. Was it possible Siv had survived? She barely dared to hope. She couldn’t keep her lips from quivering.
“Oh, Sora, darling, I am so sorry this has happened to you.” Lady Atria dropped the Everlight onto the table and wrapped Sora in a hug. “Your brother was such a sweet boy.”
“Is, I reckon,” Kel said. “Dara is burning—sorry—very tenacious. They won’t beat her for long.”
“We shouldn’t delay any longer, my queen,” Telvin said. “We can escort you out of the city. Kel has allies who can help us.”
“Allies?” Sora asked
“Plenty of people don’t want the Fireworkers to have their way with Vertigon.” Kel leaned jauntily against the table in front of her, the Everlight illuminating his handsome face. “And Berg Doban nearly ripped the castle door off its hinges trying to save you the second the Fire Wall around Square came down. He’s itching to do something to help.”
Sora didn’t answer for a moment. She was still processing everything. There was a chance Siv was alive! If he was, though, he had left her behind. Hurt twisted through her at the thought. Perhaps he believed she was dead. But she was safe now. The guards could help her flee the mountain. No more crying through the night and waiting around for the Lantern Maker to bring her more dangerous edicts to sign. No more forced speeches betraying her family’s legacy. She could flee to her grandfather’s palace and rejoin her mother and sister.
If she wanted, she could probably leave Vertigon behind forever.
Sora frowned, looking around at the four men who had risked their lives to rescue her, even though they were near strangers. Lady Atria’s eyes were kind and concerned. These were her people. They were loyal. There had to be more like them in Vertigon, like Kel’s allies who didn’t want to give the mountain over to the Workers.
She was still an Amintelle—and she was their queen. Her brother had been defeated, his title lost. But Sora held the throne of their fathers. However ceremonial her position was at the moment, she would effectively be abdicating if she walked away now. Would the people still want to help her if she left? It was not as if she could conquer Vertigon with her grandfather’s Truren army. She couldn’t wrest the crown back without doing irreparable damage to Vertigon. If she relinquished her tenuous hold on the castle, there would be no turning back.
“I can’t leave,” she whispered.
“What was that, dear?” Lady Atria looked at her quizzically.
“My lady, we want to get you to safety as soon as possible,” Oat said. “We don’t know what Master Ruminor will do now that he can access as much Fire as he wants.”
“That’s the point,” Sora said. “I can’t run away and abandon Vertigon to the Lantern Maker. I need to hold the throne.” She was sure Siv would come back for her if he was alive. He hadn’t truly left her behind, had he? She couldn’t let doubt assail her now. She stood a little straighter. She may be shorter and younger than everyone else in the room, but she was the queen, and this was her decision.
“Sora, darling,” Lady Atria said. “I thought you’d be happy for our help.”
“I am.” She squeezed Lady Atria’s hand. “Thank you all for what you’ve done today. But I have a duty to Vertigon. I have a chance to work against the Lantern Maker from the inside and gather support against him. I can’t go now.”
The others were silent for a moment. Kel and Oat exchanged worried glances. Lady Atria closed her eyes and sighed, clasping her hands over her expansive bosom. But Telvin Jale studied Sora thoughtfully for a moment. Then he placed the point of his sword on the floor before her and knelt.
“I understand duty, my queen,” he said. In the cramped room he was close enough to brush against the folds of her dress. He craned his neck to meet her eyes, one hand placed firmly on the hilt of his sword. “I served Vertigon as a soldier, and I served your family as a Castle Guard. Today, I pledge my life to your service in whatever capacity you need me. If you remain behind, I will do everything in my power to protect you.”
“Thank you.” A blush rose in Sora’s cheeks. No one had ever pledged themselves to her before. But she knew what to do. She placed her small hand over his strong, calloused one and said, “I accept your service. I pledge to carry out my duties as queen and try to be worthy of your honorable vow.”
“Thank you, my queen,” Telvin said, his voice deep and solemn. Then he climbed to his feet, moving awkwardly around her in the tiny space. Sora’s blush deepened.
“You’re so noble, Jale,” Kel said with a chuckle. “Truly, isn’t he a charmer? All right, then. I’ll help too.”
Sora inclined her head. She didn’t know much about Kelad Korran, and she didn’t know why he was doing so much to help her and her family. She was grateful, though.
“What do you think, Lady Atria?” asked Yuri, the red-bearded guard. He turned toward her, looking a bit like an overgrown puppy.
“I think it’s magnificent and brave,” Lady Atria said. “I was so enjoying hosting this rescue in my home, but I’d be happy to know there’s a resistance effort too.”
“I still think you should flee, my queen,” Oat said quietly. “Your enemies have already shown they’re willing to hurt young women. My Luci—one of the guardswomen—was killed during the attack.”
“I’m so sorry for your loss,” Sora said. She reached up to lay a hand on Oat’s shoulder. “You don’t have to join me if you’re not comfortable with it.”
Oat sniffed and straightened. “No, I’ll help too. Luci would want me to.”
“Glad that’s settled,” Kel said briskly. “Now, we have to figure out a way to talk ourselves out of this rather compromising position.” He nodded to the two guards they had overcome—one dead and one still unconscious.
“How about the partial truth?” Sora suggested. “We can say this man betrayed y
ou and tried to overwhelm the others. He had time to knock out Lieutenant Benzen, but you killed him before he could spirit me away.”
“That could work,” Kel said. “It would be a shame to blow my cover.”
“We’d better hurry,” Telvin said. “They’ll wonder why we’re not back yet.”
“I agree,” Sora said. “And we’ll have to figure out a way to get a message to my grandfather. I’d rather not involve Trure, but I might need his help eventually.”
“The Fireworkers have been inspecting all the messages leaving the mountain, but I’ll try to arrange something,” Lady Atria said. “I have friends in Trure, and it won’t be so unusual for them to hear from me.”
“Good. That’s settled, then.” Sora looked around at her little knot of allies. She’d wanted to make a list of people who might help her today. It looked as if she had more friends than she realized. It was a start. “We need to figure out the Lantern Maker’s weaknesses. I’ll see what I can do from the castle.”
Rafe Ruminor had her in his clutches now, but Soraline Amintelle was no puppet. She would figure out some way to work against him from the inside. She couldn’t leave the city and allow him to solidify his hold on her kingdom. She was a queen now, and she would not abandon her throne.
10.
The Rooftop
DARA’S boots shuffled on the paving stones. Advance. Retreat. Advance, advance. Lunge. She felt limber, and though her muscles still protested the exertion, she grew stronger every day. All she had needed after her encounter with the Fire was lots of rest and food. She’d be as good as new soon.
It was early morning, and the rooftop garden was deserted. She had chosen a spot on a paved pathway between two rows of magnificent rosebushes, some taller than her. It had quickly become her favorite place in the royal palace to do footwork. Her room was too small, and the Grand Hall, though spacious, was usually too busy. She had quickly tired of the servants and guards whispering about her as she worked on regaining her dueling form. Plus, she did everything she could to avoid the attention of Tirra and King Atrin. Their other relatives visited the palace often as well, and they weren’t supposed to know she and Siv were there. The rooftop garden suited her nicely.
She hadn’t been out into the city at all since they arrived. She worried her parents would send men to bring her back to the mountain. She couldn’t risk being seen. She would have liked to explore Rallion City, but at least the rooftop offered a decent view of the sprawl. From here she could see that many of the other buildings had rooftop gardens as well, filling the skyline with greenery. Even the more-humble houses had decorative plants growing from their thatched roofs. It must have been magnificent when the flowers bloomed in the spring. Dara wondered if she’d still be here then. She didn’t know where else she’d go.
Her Savven blade sliced the air, unnaturally swift. The power in the blade worked with the Firespark in her blood, lending her speed and strength. She leapt back from an imaginary opponent, parried, and lunged again, delivering a series of rapid jabs to the hand, head, heart. Her blood warmed, and her senses felt heightened, her actions empowered.
Suddenly, a hint of color caught her eye, and she whirled, cutting the buds off a few winter roses.
“Easy there. That could have been my eye!”
Siv strode around the rosebush, hands raised in surrender.
“What are you doing out of bed?”
“I’m sure my bed is as tired of me as I am of it,” Siv said.
“You’re a terrible patient,” Dara said, brushing a few strands of sweaty hair out of her eyes. “Didn’t the healer say you need at least another week of bed rest?”
“Did she? I was too distracted by the deafening boredom to hear that.”
“You need your strength.”
“I’m as strong as ever,” Siv said. But he eased down to sit on a stone bench beside the pathway that had become Dara’s practice strip. He did have more color in his face. The fever he’d undergone after their arrival had been alarming, but he was on the mend. “The infection is gone at least.”
“Good.” Dara had sat beside him while he was at his most feverish, holding his hand and wishing she could pull away some of the heat. But the Firespark didn’t work like that. She wondered if he had known she was there. Tirra had sent her away when she caught her by his bedside. At least she hadn’t kicked her out of the palace. Yet.
“I figure in another week I’ll be ready to ride back to the mountain.”
“Siv—”
“I know you think we should give it up, but I can’t abandon Vertigon.”
Dara sighed. They had been around and around this topic. He wouldn’t let it go.
“Do you even have a plan?”
“Yes,” Siv said. “You can do a Fire thing.”
“A Fire thing?”
“Yeah. I still like my small-attack-force idea, but I know that doesn’t solve the whole scary, powerful Fireworker variable. But I have a Fireworker on my side too. You can be damn scary.”
Dara snorted. “You have a Fireworker. My father has all the Fireworkers. And I hardly count. I only started learning a few months ago.”
“I didn’t say it was a fully formed plan,” Siv said. “What do you think?”
“I—”
“Shh. Someone’s coming. Hide!”
Siv dove behind a nearby rosebush, gesturing frantically for Dara to join him.
“What does it matter? No one cares if I practice up here.”
“It’s not you,” Siv said, and he disappeared behind the bush.
Footsteps sounded near the entrance to the garden. Dara spotted the palace healer’s frizzy white hair through a veil of greenery. She stalked along a row of shrubs with her hands on her hips, occasionally pausing to peer beneath them.
“Let me guess.” Dara fought a smile as she joined Siv behind the rosebush, which was large enough to conceal both of them. The scent of roses and dirt drifted around them. “You’ve been ordered to stay in bed, and you snuck out under your healer’s nose.”
“You know me well.”
“Maybe she’s right,” Dara said. “You’re still weak.”
“Am not. See.” Suddenly Siv snaked his arms around her waist from behind and lifted her straight off her feet. Dara stifled a squeak, clutching at his wrists. She didn’t have time to struggle before he grunted and set her back down again. “Okay, maybe I could use another day or two of rest.”
Dara rolled her eyes and peeked around the rosebush to see if the healer was still there. Siv didn’t remove his arms from around her. They stood in the shadows, his chest pressed against her back, breath soft in her ear.
The healer paused nearby, her eyes sliding over the roses.
Siv’s hands drifted lower on Dara’s waist to rest on her hips. Her breath caught in her throat. She leaned back against him slightly, the closeness making her dizzy.
The healer frowned, eyes narrowing.
Siv’s scruffy stubble tickled Dara’s cheek. She stifled a gasp as his lips brushed her jaw then skimmed down the side of her neck, his touch moth-light on her skin. She didn’t dare move.
“How about it?” he whispered against her ear as the healer walked away to continue her search of the garden. Dara barely noticed her departure.
“What?” she said hazily.
“The Fire thing? Do you think you can come up with some sort of move that would work against your father?”
Dara stiffened and pulled Siv’s hands from her hips, perhaps a little too brusquely. The moment skittered away from them like a cut bridge line. Surprise flitted through his eyes as she turned to face him.
“I can’t go back there,” she said.
“But—”
“He’s too strong.” The image of her father Wielding Fire in the Great Hall flashed before her—a memory drenched in terror and pain. A fierce torrent of panic swept through her. “I can’t do it.”
“So practice,” Siv said. “You’re the one who’s
always telling me you have to work harder to get better at things. Isn’t it the same with the Fire?”
“No,” Dara said. “Can’t you drop it?”
“I’ve never known you to give up before. I thought we were in this together. You think staying here and practicing footwork will solve anything?” Siv glared at the roses as if this was all their fault. He looked back at her suddenly, pinning her with his gaze. “What are we even doing, Dara?”
Her eyes dropped to his lips before she could help it. His eyes were intent on her face, his body too close. She took a step back.
“You’re recovering from your infection,” she said. “You should get back to bed before I call the healer.” She drew her blade and resumed her dueling stance, all too aware that it would prevent him from drawing her into his arms again. “If you’ll excuse me, I have to resume my training.”
“What for?” Siv scrubbed a hand through his hair, looking frustrated. “You’re not even a duelist anymore.”
Dara ignored him, cutting the air with her blade once more. Siv’s words hit much too close to the mark. She didn’t look at him as he trudged back through the garden.
She couldn’t face her father. The idea sent icy panic through her veins. She wasn’t sure she ever wanted to touch the Fire again for as long as she lived. But if she wasn’t a Fireworker and she wasn’t a duelist, what was she?
11.
The Races
SIV sat in the royal box at the racing grounds and fumed. It had been over two weeks since he arrived in Rallion City, and his grandfather was still no closer to lending him the men he needed to return to Vertigon and remove the Lantern Maker from power. The king could be more stubborn than a bullshell in a salt mine.
It was a relief to get out into the fresh winter air, surrounded by the sounds of the crowd and the smells of Truren sweetmeats and sweating horses. He had hated being bedridden with fever in the royal palace. He’d been restless, grumpy, and far sicker than he wanted to admit. But after enduring the overbearing attentions of his grandfather’s healer, he felt almost back to normal now.
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