Five Dark Fates

by Kendare Blake

  The dead queens do not stand a chance. The mist devours. The mist protects. Arsinoe sees the queens of old, hidden inside its depths. She sees Illiann and even Daphne. She feels Mirabella’s might as the mist crashes against the Volroy like a thunderstorm. She recognizes Katharine in the sharp, twisting quickness as it slices strands of darkness and casts them off in ribbons. She sees them fight, for her and the island, until all that remains of the dead queens are tatters and ashes floating in the air.

  When it is over, the mist disappears. It does not roll back into the sea. It does not retreat. It simply evaporates and fades until there is nothing left to see.

  “Arsinoe,” Pietyr says, grimacing. “Give me your other hand.”

  She does, and he pulls her up and back over the side onto the rooftop, where they collapse together.

  “It was them,” she says, panting. “Mirabella and Katharine.”

  “It was them,” Pietyr agrees, and knocks his head against the stone. “And now it is finished.”

  THE BATTLEFIELD

  One moment, the mist is everywhere. The next it draws back, fading like it never was, and Emilia turns her horse and races in search of Jules.

  All across the battlefield, soldiers are wakening. They wander together, helping their wounded, casting fearful eyes on the havoc that remains. So many are dead, twisted around or torn apart, that it is a relief to see a few felled by arrows or a spear, for at least that can be understood.

  Emilia urges her horse past them all, jumping the dead and dodging the living, on her way to the clearing where Jules lies. When she reaches her, she pulls the reins so hard that her poor mare skids.

  “Jules!” She takes Jules’s face in her hands as Jules swivels bloodred eyes toward her. She does not need to look at Jules’s leg to know it is ruined. Her trousers are soaked with blood and lie too flat on the calf. The leg is turned the wrong way below the knee.

  “Jules, you fool. What have you done?”

  “I did what I had to do,” Jules says through clenched teeth. She reaches up and touches Emilia’s face. “And I’m all right.” She smiles. “I’m all right. The curse, it’s—” Her eyes flutter, and she loses consciousness.

  Emilia pulls her onto her lap.

  “Help us! I need help for the queen!”

  Rebels come. They bind Jules’s wounds tightly and load her and her cougar gently onto horses. As Emilia weeps, Mathilde comes limping to her side.

  “What did we do?” Emilia asks. “What did we make her do?”

  Mathilde looks sadly after Jules and Camden, borne away on the rocking backs of the horses. Her eyes cloud. And then, she smiles.

  “Only what she was meant to do.”

  The healers take Jules’s leg while she sleeps. Emilia was right: there could be no saving it. And Emilia remains with her until she wakes.

  “What happened?” Jules asks as her eyes crack open.

  “You saved so many,” Emilia replies. “You made yourself a legend. A legend, and a queen.”

  Jules slips back to sleep, and Emilia leans down to kiss her on the forehead.

  “Don’t worry, Jules. I will be here when you wake. And forever after.”

  Arsinoe and Pietyr emerge from the Volroy in a daze. Inside, the castle is still quiet, nearly deserted. But outside is carnage everywhere they look. As they stand blinking before the outer gates, Arsinoe is surprised by the warm nudge of a muzzle against her arm. It is her good brown horse, returned, his white socks splattered with red.

  “Hey, boy.” She reaches up underneath his forelock and scratches his forehead as Pietyr calls to a nearby rebel soldier.

  “Where are the commanders?” he asks. “Where have they taken the Legion Queen?”

  “They’ve taken her to the city. Healers have gathered in the square to help the wounded.”

  Arsinoe nods to Pietyr, and they quickly mount the horse and ride at a canter for Indrid Down Square. As they go, they pass reunions of all sorts. Some joyous. Many with tears as news of the fallen spreads among the survivors.

  “Where is she?” Arsinoe asks, turning the horse in all directions. “Where—?”

  Someone waves to her from the crowd. Luke. Good Luke, with his face bloodied and a bandage wrapped around his shoulder. He smiles when she looks at him and points across the square to a hastily assembled tent.

  They ride to it, and Arsinoe jumps off the horse. Jules and Camden lie inside, with Emilia seated between them.

  “Is she—?” Arsinoe asks, and Camden chirrups softly. Arsinoe’s eyes catch on Jules’s missing leg, and she swallows.

  “She will be all right,” Emilia says. “She did it. And you did it.”

  Arsinoe bends and takes Jules’s hand. “How? How did she stand against Rho?”

  “She cut the legion curse free,” Emilia says. “But she is fine. It is gone.”

  “Gone?”

  Emilia shrugs. “Perhaps the curse was never a curse. Ask Mathilde. She has many strange seer thoughts on the matter. But look there.” Emilia gestures over Arsinoe’s shoulder.

  Billy stands on the outskirts of the makeshift camp, his shirt in tatters and a large swath of bandage wrapped around his abdomen. But he is alive.

  And so is Arsinoe. She sees the relief and gladness wash over his face as she holds tight to Jules. But when she stands up to go to him, he steps back.

  He is leaving, like he said he would. And if he touches her again, he will not have the strength to go. So she smiles, eyes wet from exhausted tears. He smiles, too, and raises his hand.

  “So long, Junior,” she whispers.

  THE LEGION QUEEN

  In the days and weeks that followed the end of the Queens’ War, as it would come to be called, many changes took place in the capital and across the island. Jules recovered, with help from Arsinoe and Emilia, and learned to walk with a crutch. The legion curse had indeed disappeared, and she was herself again, while both of her gifts were allowed to flourish. She as yet wore no crown, but everyone called her the Legion Queen.

  Neither she nor her council took up immediate residence at the Volroy. The grand towers seemed too representative of the queens gone by, and Jules and the rebellion had no interest in repeating the mistakes and corruption of the past. The line of the triplet queens had strayed too far off course, and now the time of triplet queens had ended.

  Shortly after the battle, Paola Vend and Renata Hargrove were found and placed under temporary arrest, along with Genevieve Arron. Of Antonin and Lucian Arron, no trace was found. Rumors swirled that they are in hiding somewhere in Prynn or that they have fled the island entirely now that the mist is clear and the way is open.

  Slowly, the rebellion disbanded. Soldiers returned to their homes to rebuild. The naturalists, and Cait and Ellis Milone, left the stronghold of Sunpool for Wolf Spring as the elementals returned to Rolanth. But not all abandoned the city they had helped to rebuild, and these days, Sunpool is a vibrant place of varied gifts.

  As for the mist, it is not only at peace but gone completely. No longer will it protect the island from the outside world. No longer will Fennbirn be hidden from mainland travelers, and the true test of the Legion Queen and her advisers will be navigating the change.

  In the quiet streets of the early-morning capital, Arsinoe and Jules walk together as they often do, getting away from the bustle. They must go early before there is anyone to share the pavement with. Since Jules lost her leg, Camden refuses go ahead or behind. She insists on being pressed to Jules’s side.

  “You’re getting pretty good with that crutch,” Arsinoe says.

  “I had been using this leg less anyway. It was never quite the same after I ate all that poison.”

  They meander down to the harbor and head north along the docks full of ships. The boats still stay close, not venturing out of the island’s sight, but soon enough the fishers will brave the deeper waters, and traders will dare to find the mainland.

  As they walk, they look up to the northern cliffs,
where a tall flame burns, surrounded by polished black stones and fresh flowers. A memorial to Mirabella. On the roof of the West Tower, a similar flame burns for Katharine.

  Arsinoe reaches down and scratches Camden between the ears. She misses Braddock. She has not seen him since she went to the Black Cottage shortly after the battle. He was still there, with Willa, and there he will remain until Willa believes what they say about the queens and formally leaves her post.

  “Who are you going to leave in charge while you’re away?” Arsinoe asks. “Luca?”

  “Why? Because she’s the oldest?”

  Arsinoe chuckles. Mirabella’s friends, Bree and Elizabeth, returned to the capital with the High Priestess a week ago.

  “No. Because she’s the most widely liked.”

  “She tried to kill you, remember,” says Jules. “With that plot during the Quickening.”

  “But she didn’t.”

  Jules frowns. Then her expression clears, and she shrugs.

  “Well, anyway, I asked her for advice, and she wouldn’t give it. She wants to remain with the temple. She wants to stay near Bree and Elizabeth. And I think that’s all she wants.”

  “So many changes.”

  “And more to come. Emilia means to travel to every city with Mathilde to hear what the people say. Or she might just send Mathilde.”

  “She doesn’t want to leave you.”

  Jules shrugs again and blushes.

  “How are you two?” Arsinoe asks. “Are things . . . ?”

  “I’m not going to be marrying any mainlanders, if that’s what you mean.” Jules takes a deep breath and stops walking, hopping slightly to readjust her crutch. “I won’t really be a queen, you know. It’s all going to be different. You’ll see.”

  “Will you live in the capital, when we get back?”

  “I don’t know. I’d like to go home to Wolf Spring. Emilia didn’t want to abandon Indrid Down to its own so soon, but she or Mathilde will always be here. And I want to be near Fenn and Luke. Matthew and Caragh.”

  “Maybe you could lure Braddock down to live in the fields near the house?” Arsinoe asks.

  They reach the end of the docks and turn back. They may pop into the inn on the corner for a few soft-boiled eggs and some fresh warm bread, like they sometimes do. Or stroll through the market and watch the merchants polish their wares. Above them, the tall black spires of the Volroy stretch into the sky, not a monster anymore casting a wicked shadow but only a building, and Indrid Down is only a city rather than a nest of enemies.

  “Will you come with me to the square?” Jules asks.

  “Not this morning. I told someone I would help them with something.”

  “Queen Arsinoe still has her secrets.”

  Arsinoe laughs. She gives Camden a pat on the haunches and slips away, down side streets and through alleys until she is back at the Volroy gates. The boy waiting for her steps out of the shadows. He does not raise a hand in greeting. He does not even take his hands out of his pockets.

  She joins him without a word, and they make their way through the quiet castle, up and up and up the stairs of the West Tower.

  “Are you sure you’re ready to do this?” Arsinoe asks, and in answer, Pietyr takes a breath and takes the last of the steps by two, out onto the roof.

  It is his first visit to Katharine’s memorial. The priestesses who tend it have been dutiful, the ring of black stones laid out with care and the wreaths of poisoned berries and blossoms fresh. Someone has even left a live scorpion in a jar.

  “Her flame burns high,” Pietyr says, and Arsinoe looks to the north.

  From up there, so high above the city, Mirabella’s and Katharine’s flames do not seem so far apart, as if the sisters are together in their burning.

  “We fought so hard,” she says. “And still, two of us are dead. What was the point of it?”

  “The fight,” Pietyr replies simply. “The fight was the point.” He bends down, his elbow resting on one of his knees as he watches Katharine’s flame. “I wish it would burn forever.”

  “I wish that, too.”

  But nothing is forever, of course. Not even on Fennbirn, where for an age the mist held time itself hostage. Eventually, the priestesses would let the fires go out. Then they would be lit again on festival days or on the days commemorating the battle. And one day, there would be no flames at all.

  “I should have—” Pietyr says, and his voice breaks. Arsinoe puts her hand on his shoulder. After a few moments, it stops shaking, and he wipes his eyes. “I should get to the square.” He stands up and takes a slow breath. “Someone has to advocate for Genevieve’s release.”

  “That won’t make you very popular on the new council.”

  He chuckles. “I do not think there was any chance of that, anyway.” He turns to go, and his eyes cloud when they land on the space where Katharine went over the edge. Arsinoe knows he is seeing those last moments in his mind. Wishing he had caught her, even for a second.

  Then he blinks, and they walk together down the stairs.

  “Are you coming to the square, Queen Arsinoe?” he asks when they reach the bottom.

  She moans. “Stop calling me that.”

  “But it is what you are. What you always will be. Queen Arsinoe. The last of the true queens of Fennbirn. Your legend and your popularity will grow. Perhaps even outstripping the legend of the Legion Queen.”

  She says nothing, and he sighs, looking back up the stairs.

  “I wish there were something more that I could do for her,” he says. “Something besides look after her snake. I hate that no one really knew what kind of person she was—how kind and shockingly gentle. How clever. All she ever wanted was to make us proud. And the island will remember her reign as that of a monster.”

  “No they won’t. You’re here. You’ll make them remember.”

  “How can you say so?” he asks. “How will anyone believe me after what she did?”

  “I don’t know what Katharine was after she came back from the night of the Quickening. I only know that, in the end, she was my sister.”

  Pietyr shoves his hands back into his pockets and walks away.

  “Hey,” she calls after him. “I’m sorry I kissed you.”

  He turns his head, just enough for her to see the sharpness of his jawline.

  “Not half as sorry as I am!” he shouts, and Arsinoe laughs.

  EPILOGUE

  The ship rocks slightly in the water as the last of the supplies are brought onboard. Arsinoe shifts her weight from foot to foot, keeping balance as she stares out at the horizon. For the first time, the prospect of leaving Fennbirn does not frighten her. Ships have come and gone for weeks without incident. And she feels that link between her and the island, snapped and flapping loose, deep inside her chest.

  “Maybe I shouldn’t go,” she says as Jules joins her by the railing. “Maybe it’s too soon.”

  “Too soon for what? The new Black Council is nearly set. Mathilde’s letters from the road are good and tranquil, in true Mathilde fashion. Even Braddock is settled with Grandma Cait and Ellis. You’ve run out of excuses. You ran out of them weeks ago.”

  “You must really want me gone.”

  Jules laughs. “If I thought you were going forever, I would be locking you in the Volroy cells instead of preparing to sail with you.”

  Camden stands to put her paws on the rail, and Arsinoe buries her face in the cougar’s fur. “What if he doesn’t want me there?”

  “I can’t hear you when you talk into my cat.”

  Arsinoe raises her head. “What if I hate it? I do, I hate it there.”

  Jules makes an impatient face. Her eyes narrow at movement from inside Arsinoe’s pocket.

  “What is that?” She looks inside, and a tiny, speckled chick pokes its head out and chirps.

  “Grandchick,” Arsinoe replies. She strokes the fluffy feathers. “Harriet hatched a brood not long ago. I thought Billy should know he’s a grandfathe
r.”

  Jules laughs.

  “For a poisoner, you do make quite the naturalist.” She reaches down, and the chick rubs its head against her finger. “This chick’s home is on Fennbirn, you know. So Billy had better accept our offer to be our ambassador. We’re going to need him if we want to reintroduce the island to the world without a war.”

  Arsinoe arches her brow. “He might refuse if he suspects the only reasons we’re offering are so his family is taken care of and he and I can be together.”

  “We’re asking him because he is the best. Our most trusted mainland ally.”

  “Our only mainland ally.”

  Jules shrugs like it does not make any difference. And Arsinoe supposes it does not. If Billy agrees, they could have everything they hoped. And it does not feel like she deserves it.

  “How can I be alive when they’re dead, Jules?”

  “How can you ask that?” Jules leans against the rail and pokes Arsinoe in the chest with the top of her crutch. “If Mirabella were here, your vest would be on fire right now.”

  “And Katharine?”

  “She saved you. That wasn’t an accident. So yes. If she were here, she wouldn’t set you on fire but nor would she put you out.”

  Arsinoe laughs softly. It is a strange feeling, to not be needed anymore. To be able to go and be certain that Fennbirn will never call her back.

  “The island is home, you know, Jules? I don’t want to lose that. I don’t want to lose you.”

  “You can never lose me. But you’re free. You’re not a queen anymore; you can come and go as you please. The island will always be here.” She claps Arsinoe on the shoulder, and she and her cougar face out toward the open sea.

  “Now let’s go find your boy.”

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Thank you to everyone who has come with me to Fennbirn, who has journeyed with the queens across four novels and seen them to their ends. I cannot express to you what an honor it has been to have you with me, and how grateful I am that you’re still here. It means the world that you have lived (and died) and loved (and hated) and won and lost with these queens. Thank you.