Now that Fabithe is back, I expect us to leave Stonesands. We’ve been here three nights; surely that’s long enough. We’re meant to be travelling to Othitali. Yet when I venture to express as much, over yet another overstuffed breakfast, Oriana shakes her head.
“I do not see the need to rush. We were going to Othitali for supplies, but Sammal can give us what we require.”
“And how long do you think it will take before he hears something to contradict our story, and hauls you back to the Citadel?” I retort, with more heat than I intended. “We have to be gone before he finds out the truth.”
“He is my oath-sworn subject. He would not do anything to endanger me.”
I wouldn’t be so sure. But I don’t say it out loud. It isn’t as if I have a specific reason not to trust Oceantree; not liking him isn’t the same as believing he would betray his own sovereign. And besides, I’m clearly fighting a losing battle.
“Have you seen something to imply we should leave?” Luthan asks me. She’s the only one still treating me normally. Even Toralé is subdued. He’s heard what I did, by now. He knows that the person to whom he owes his debt is the same person who caused him to be imprisoned in the first place – because we have to assume that I told Ifor where to look for three of the people in this room. But since he never succeeded in finding Luthan, she has nothing to resent me for.
“No,” I admit. “I’d just feel safer on Othitali.”
“We are safe here,” Oriana says firmly. “Behind walls. Behind defences. Soldiers at my command if I need them.”
Being comfortable isn’t the same as being safe, I want to say – but I choke it down. Though I think familiarity plays a part in her current sense of safety, it wouldn’t be fair to accuse her of clinging to the comforts of her old life. I can see why she might want to begin building an army of her own; why weapons and wealth might seem better protection than the lonely magic of Isidor’s island.
Reluctantly, I look at Fabithe. If anyone here distrusts Oceantree and our current situation as much as I do, it will be him. Yet when he meets my gaze, I can already tell that his impulse towards freedom is outweighed by his desire to support Oriana – and contradict me.
“For whatever reason, Ifor’s not interested in capturing us right now,” he says tightly. “And since we’re stuck with you wherever we go, here is as safe as anywhere.”
All right, then. That makes everything abundantly clear.
I bow my head, moving food around my plate without eating. Around me, breakfast continues. Oriana tells Toralé that she’s looked at the instructions sent by the healer, and making more salve will be easy when he needs it. Luthan asks Fabithe something about what he saw in the town during his night away. Not for the first time in my life, I wonder how it’s possible to be surrounded by people and conversation, and yet feel so incredibly alone.
You might want to look at this, little sister, Ifor’s voice says in my head.
Go away. But the feeling remains, a gentle tugging at the bond between us. It’s the first time he’s opened himself up to me since I came back, and I can’t help but be curious. I saw him through Cinemand’s eyes, of course, but that isn’t the same as being in Ifor’s own head.
There’s no point, I tell myself. You can’t trust anything he shows you. He wouldn’t be doing this without some underlying motive.
But even knowing what he wants me to know is better than knowing nothing at all, right?
At least, that’s my excuse as I give in to the pull.
Sitting behind the desk in Cinemand’s study, Ifor straightens up as soon as he feels the familiar itch at the back of his mind.
You came, then, he thinks. I was not sure you would.
He looks down at the letter in his hands: a message from Sammal Oceantree of Stonesands to Cinemand Raine an’Bluepeace, Highest Lord of the Stone Citadel. Since the last part of that will be his soon enough, Ifor felt no compunction about breaking the seal. The prose is long-winded and flowery, but the gist of it is simple: Oceantree advises that Highest Lady Oriana and her party are currently his personal guests, and asks if Cinemand can confirm them to be acting with his knowledge.
Always difficult, knowing who to trust – and in this case, I fear you chose wrong. Lucky this message fell into my hands rather than Cinemand’s, or there would be Sapphire Blades in Stonesands before you could blink.
He sighs. He should be playing with her. Making his next move. Yet he is weary, dragged down by the chill depths of multiple lifetimes of memories. Usually he is able to avoid their pull, skimming across the surface like a dragonfly, dipping in and out to recall this and that while the rest of it lies dormant below. But now … now, they are drowning him. Filling his eyes and ears, closing over his head, submerging him in a sea of emotions he has long since learned to put aside – first among them, the soul-destroying fear that he is cursed. That this will keep happening, over and over again, forever.
No baby should be born with knowledge stained irrevocably into his soul. No infant should rediscover centuries of memories alongside his ability to talk, until by the time he is three he already understands that he is destined to die. No child should have to look at his newborn sister and realise, with the ice-cold thrill of recognition, she will destroy me if she can. And although self-pity is by far the worst of all the emotions he has ever experienced – useless, and to be despised – he cannot help but sink into it.
He finds himself remembering one particular day, long ago. From a previous life. To begin with he tries to suppress it, but what does it matter? She needs to know the truth. She needs to see –
A courtyard. Stone towers dark against the brilliant blue sky. The Castle of the Black Sun, the same then as it is now. Castles, like the pattern of history, are slow to change. A winter’s day, one of those bright cold days that seems to both promise and withhold warmth. And her, standing in front of him with defiance on her face. As bright and as cold as the day. His sister.
“You will not keep me here,” she said.
“This is your home. Where else would you go?” Reading the answer on her face, he shook his head. “No. Not to him.”
“Why not to him?”
“He is an enemy of our people, Meli! You heard him confess it yourself. His dragons have killed hundreds of my soldiers. If he had not escaped – ”
“I set him free.”
The world spun around him. The solid towers of the Black Sun seemed to waver, as if they were no more substantial than a dream. “You …”
“Did you think I would stand by and see him executed?” she asked scornfully. “I love him, Thekyan. I have known him since I was a child. Our souls are linked forever.”
“I am your brother. Does that mean nothing to you? Family? Country? Do they mean nothing?”
“Not nothing,” she said. “But not enough.”
“If you go, I will not have you back.”
“I know.”
He was silent, before heartbreak and bitter disappointment overcame him. “You will regret this, Meli. I will tear his fortress down around him – rip his dragons from the sky – ”
“Try it,” she said, resolute in the face of his anger. “We will be ready for you.”
And then what happened? She walked away, and he let her go. Even now, Ifor is not sure he did the right thing. Yet Meli was his sister. Despite her treachery, he did not want to harm her.
I do not want to harm you, he repeats to his sister. His sister, again. Perhaps that is my downfall. I have never wanted to harm you. Even though, time and again, your so-called friends kill our people –
His fists are clenched, creasing the letter still clutched between his fingers; he forces them to relax. Some things never change. He had no choice but to release Ariamé and the others to fulfil their fate – yet if he had known, then, exactly what the Mage had done to his men, he would not have felt quite so sanguine about it. She burned them alive. She sent more to their deaths in the ravine. She destroyed an ancient artefact. And yet, she believes herself righteous. That is as it has ever been, with the Mage. To her, the value of human life is entirely conditional: priceless in those she has snared to her side, entirely worthless in those who oppose her. She has to be stopped.
And so here they are, playing the game again. It has to be played; apparently there is no way out of that. His only hope is that, this time, he knows enough to win.
Go away now, little sister, he thinks. I am no longer in any mood to have you haunting my head. The Warrior has always possessed some rudimentary tactical ability, and the Mage has the force of misplaced righteousness on her side, but you … you are a Darklight. You know how to match me. And so, if I fail, it will be your doing. As it always is.
Bending to throw Oceantree’s note into the fire, a final thought strikes him. He straightens up with a bitter smile. Oh, and do pass my condolences to Morani. A terrible tragedy, to lose a father and a brother within the space of four days.
I jolt back in my chair, heart racing, head pounding. I’m breathless, as though someone shoved me and I had to stop myself falling. A mental shove, maybe. It felt purposeful. He pushed me out. And the aftermath is just as uncomfortable as if it had been a physical blow.
Why does he have to be so damn intense? And how on earth do I know what to make of all that? He seemed … sad. Tired. That felt real enough. But given that he can tell when I’m with him, and given that I know he’s capable of lying inside his own head for my benefit, the only thing I can be sure of is that I can’t trust anything I see through his eyes.
My hands tremble; quickly I fold them in my lap. There’s no need to panic. True, this is complicated and confusing and potentially very important – but all I can do is go back over what I saw, one thing at a time.
First, he showed me Oceantree’s letter. Even that might not be real – he must have faked Esolin’s, after all – but it’s easy enough to find out either way. I just have to confront Oceantree. And if it is real, it will mean that Ifor was genuinely trying to warn me.
Second, he showed me a memory … or allowed one to slip through. A memory of a different life. He had another name, then, though I don’t remember what it was. A sister who betrayed him, whom he didn’t want to hurt. Was that me, in a past life? Was he showing me another cycle of history?
Third, and finally, came that snarky little comment about condolences. A terrible tragedy, to lose a father and a brother within the space of four days. And that doesn’t even make sense; yes, Petros is dead, but the silver thread connecting me to Rys is still bright in my head. Unless …
Four days. I only experienced Petros’s death through Rys’s eyes two days ago. It was a threat.
The room has fallen silent; I look up, to find almost everyone watching me. When I meet Fabithe’s gaze, he swears under his breath.
“Here we go again. More bad news. More conveniently timed visions that explain why we have to do what you say.”
I shake my head. I don’t want to do this any more. I don’t want to be the conduit for information that no one welcomes or trusts. “Forget it.”
“Please tell us,” Luthan says softly. “It might be important.”
“Fine.” I look straight at her, ignoring everyone else. “It was Ifor. He knows we’re here … and he wanted me to pass a message to Fabithe.”
“Wanted you to?” she echoes. “You mean, he can talk to you when you’re seeing through his eyes?”
“Yes. He knows when I’m there. He thinks things at me.” I shiver. “I don’t like it.”
She looks thoughtful. “But it seems as though it could be useful. I wonder if we could learn how to do it.”
That really wasn’t the main point of what I just said. Sometimes I think Luthan is too academically inclined for her own good.
“Message?” Fabithe snaps. “What message?”
There we are. I repeat it for him, careful not to put any meaning or inflection into it beyond the words themselves. He’s far quicker than I was to reach the implied conclusion.
“The bastard’s sending an assassin after Rys.” He begins pacing. “But you said yourself he’s messing with us. He lied in his thoughts before, to get us into the Castle Retreat. How do you know he’s not lying again?”
“I don’t,” I admit. “But I thought you should know what he said.”
Fabithe shakes his head. “Even if it’s true, there’s no way I can reach Rys in two days.”
He keeps pacing. He hasn’t managed to fully arm himself against me since the last time I gave him bad news; his fear and confusion boil over despite every attempt at hiding them.
“You said Ifor knows we’re here, eminalithé,” Toralé says quietly. “How?”
“He intercepted a message from Oceantree to Cinemand, asking him to confirm that we’re here with his knowledge.”
“Stop it!” The words are said with some heat, but not by Fabithe. It’s Oriana who’s now standing, confronting me across a table still littered with the remains of breakfast. “Just stop. Either Ifor is lying to you or you are lying to us.”
“But – ”
“Sammal would not do that. He would not check up on me with my father as if I am still a child. Despite everything that Ifor has done, the lies he has told, I remain Highest Lady of the Stone Citadel.”
“Then ask Oceantree!” I retort. “Come straight out and ask him, if you’re so sure it’s a lie – ”
“No! I will not! If I cannot trust my people – ”
A knock on the door silences us both. The girl who enters, perhaps a couple of years older than us, can clearly sense the tension; she keeps her gaze turned towards the floor as she murmurs, “My ladies. Lord Oceantree begs that you will do him the honour of joining him in the library.”
Sammal Oceantree: the master of veiled commands. Still, it puts an end to our argument. I trail after Oriana as she follows the girl out of the room and back down yesterday’s corridors to the door where Toralé and I met Luthan. I haven’t been inside the library yet, and as soon as I enter I get at least some sense of why Luthan keeps coming back here. It’s a beautiful room, glowing with lamplight and lined floor to ceiling with books. Though it’s both far fancier and far larger than Dr Whyte’s office, it has a little of the same feel about it: welcoming and warm.
“Sammal?” Oriana says to the man standing in the middle of the room, while I’m still distracted. “You wanted to see us?”
He bows. “Thank you for coming, most high lady. I thought it best for the three of us to converse alone.”
Which could mean many things, some of them ominous. Her own thoughts running along the same lines, Oriana returns no more than a noncommittal, “Oh?”
“I have received a message from your father,” Oceantree tells her. “He is calling a special meeting of the grand council, to be held in three days’ time. I thought, if either of you has any letter you would like to send …”
Right. Cinemand intends to announce his plan to abdicate, and send the people of the Sapphire to war with Ifor at their head, unless Esolin returns his daughter. I saw that, but I was so focused on what it would mean for Oriana that I didn’t think about anything else.
I glance at her. She’s recognised it, just as I have. And her fear is spilling over, carrying her thoughts to me as clearly as if she spoke aloud: I could stop it. Protect my people. All I have to do is accompany Sammal back to the Citadel and give myself up. Maybe then Ifor would leave the others alone –
“No!” I yelp, before I can stop myself. They both turn to look at me. “I mean …”
I hesitate. But this is my chance to prove myself, and so I take the plunge. “No doubt the message crossed with yours, Lord Oceantree.”
His eyes narrow. “What message?”
“The one you sent Highest Lord Cinemand, asking him to confirm that Oriana is here with his knowledge.”
He gapes at me. He must be wondering how I know. He must be thinking that the message can only just have reached the Citadel – his own messenger hasn’t even returned from delivering it yet – so how …? But it’s clear from his expression that overriding the rest is the horrible sinking feeling that he’s made a mistake. Because if we know about the message, we must be deep in Cinemand’s confidence; in which case, everything we’ve said is likely true, and Oceantree has achieved no more than a demonstration of his own untrustworthiness. All of which is probably why, after a last dumbstruck stare, he bows his head to Oriana and starts spouting apologies.
“Forgive me, most high lady. I should never have – I only wanted to be sure. Not that I doubted you – that I have ever doubted you. I just – ”
“Wanted to be sure,” I finish for him helpfully. He gives me a wounded look.
“Lady Ariamé. I am devoted to the Sapphire bloodline. But if there was the slightest chance that my Highest Lady had betrayed her own people by abandoning them for a lover’s sake …” He turns back to Oriana. “You do understand, my lady?”
She says nothing. I can feel her hurt and disappointment, all laced with confusion – because it turns out that I was right, despite getting my information from Ifor. Now she doesn’t know who to trust. As the silence stretches, I step in once more.
“We are leaving, Sammal. Today. We cannot continue to accept the hospitality of a man who doubts our veracity.”
Linking my arm through Oriana’s, I tug her out of the room. She accompanies me without resistance, still reeling from the blow. I don’t have the slightest urge to say I told you so.
“You were right,” she says dully, once we’re halfway back to our chamber. “Everyone is playing this game. Even him.” Abruptly she halts, squaring her shoulders and turning to face me. “All the same, I should go with him. Stop the war.”
“No, but don’t you see?” I halt too, my words tumbling over themselves with urgency. “This is your chance to do that without losing your freedom.”
“How?”
“Oceantree will do anything you ask now, without question. He can carry a letter directly to Cinemand for you. Write that you’re safe, that the Emerald kidnapping story is a lie, and that he mustn’t give up his position to Ifor at any cost.”
“Write?” she echoes bitterly. “Do you not think I would have written to my father before now, if I thought it would do any good? I tried writing, at home, after I first told him what was happening to me and he heard other words entirely. But he could not read the truth any more than he could hear it.”
It never occurred to me that the magic binding her extended to the written as well as the spoken, but I suppose it should have. All the same … “There must be a way round it. I could tell Oceantree your story? That would break the restriction – at least, that’s how it worked before, when I told Fabithe and Luthan. And once he knows the truth, he can tell Cinemand.”
How did Toralé hear her? a small thought pipes up at the back of my mind. I remember seeing Oriana explain it all to him, early on during their stay in the watchtower. Yet I’m not sure, now, how that was possible without someone other than Oriana telling him first.
“But Ifor knows we are here,” Oriana says, recalling my attention to the problem at hand. “He will not allow Sammal to approach my father with any kind of private message.”
Ugh. He said I should be good at this, being a Darklight, but I’m beginning to think I missed out on the tactical thinking gene. Too easily distracted, I guess. Because she’s right: he knows we’re in Stonesands, so presumably he’ll keep a close eye out for any messages that we might pass through Oceantree.
I chew on the inside of my cheek. There is one thing he didn’t seem to know: that I’m aware of why the grand council is being called. Or at least, he did a good job of keeping any hint of the topic out of his thoughts. Maybe he doesn’t realise that I have access to Cinemand’s head too, or maybe it was another trick – but if there’s any chance that it’s the former, we might be able to use it …
“How come your father is allowed to abdicate in Ifor’s favour?” I ask. “I mean, if he’s the rightful Highest Lord – ”
Oriana shakes her head. “Only by marriage. My mother was a Bluepeace; my father married into the line, just like Ifor. It has often been that way. The goddess prefers daughters.”
“Yet Cinemand still has more power than you?”
“Not exactly.” She frowns at me as though she isn’t sure why she’s answering, but she does it anyway. “The Citadel always has a Highest Lady and a Highest Lord: by blood if possible, or by marriage if not. I have been Highest Lady since Mama died. But I only inherited her full power on the day I came of age, and – ” she flicks me a glance – “that was my sixteenth nameday. The day I married Ifor.”
Then although she’s been on the run ever since she was old enough to outrank her father, she has a better claim to the Sapphire than anyone else still living. No wonder she didn’t want to believe that Oceantree would check up on her movements with Cinemand – and no wonder it galled her so much when it turned out to be true.
“So let me get this straight,” I say. “If your father were a Bluepeace by blood, he wouldn’t be able to give up the throne to Ifor?”
“He would have a greater claim, and therefore a greater responsibility. But because they both married into it …”
“Right. As far as the law is concerned, they’re equally valid. What I’m wondering is, do the grand council have any say in it? Do they get to vote on whether to allow the abdication?”
“No,” she says, dashing my hopes. “Father will have called the council as a matter of formality. They advise us; they do not control us.”
For an instant, chin tilted imperiously, she looks every inch a woman in charge of a vast magical jewel and an entire nation. Then her shoulders drop, and she adds, “Besides, who among them would vote against Ifor? None of them would wish to lose the support of Northfell, particularly if there is to be war.”
“I had hoped we might persuade Oceantree to vote against him,” I say glumly. “As a way of proving his loyalty to you.”
We’re quiet awhile, before she nods. “All right. We will go to Sammal and tell him the truth. He will pass it on to my father, and I will write a letter to be read afterwards, as confirmation.”
“And how will we stop Ifor intercepting it?”
“I … I believe I have thought of a way.”
My heart leaps. “Really? What is it?”
She looks at me steadily. “I am not sure I should tell you.”
I open my mouth to say that she can tell me anything – and if she’s planning something dangerous, she really ought to. But then the knowledge thuds into my stomach like a deadweight: she means she doesn’t trust me not to tell my brother.
“Then don’t,” I say, swallowing over the lump in my throat. “But I’m not out to get you, Oriana. I wish you’d believe that.”
I don’t think she’s going to reply. But then she says quietly, “Nothing about me was ever good enough for him. The shape of my body. The colour of my skin. He always made it clear how much better his people were. Your people.”
“I’m sorry.” It’s wholly inadequate, but I don’t know what else to say.
“My father always considered your father to be a close ally. The Darklights and the Bluepeaces visited each other often. Within moments of my birth, they had hatched a plan to marry me to Ifor, as a symbol of their abiding friendship. Yet the truth is, all along, your family saw mine as little better than animals.”
After Dakion’s casual dismissal of her as a southern heathen, I can hardly argue. I say again, helplessly, “I’m sorry. But you know I don’t believe that, don’t you?”
She meets my gaze. “Perhaps. It hardly matters.”
“Of course it – ”
“You come from the same family, Alyssia. You cannot expect me to reassure you that you are not like them, not when I am still trying to deal with the pain they caused me.”
“But you know me. You know I wouldn’t – ”
“No,” she says. “I do not really know you, not like you know me. You know all my weaknesses. All my flaws. I know none of yours. All I know is that you are a Darklight.” She shivers. “And that is why I cannot trust you. Not yet.”
“All right. I understand. I …” But I’ve run out of words. I shake my head. “Let’s go and talk to Oceantree again.”
Back in the library, though, I find myself full of doubt. I’m simply not convinced that Sammal Oceantree will believe what I tell him. And how will that affect my ability to break through Oriana’s magical restrictions? If he refuses to accept the truth I offer him, he might continue to hear from Oriana’s lips whatever best suits Ifor. Even if he hears me out, then turns to Oriana for confirmation, presumably he could hear a contradiction instead. In fact, thinking about it, there are a lot of ways that this could go wrong.
Still. Too late to worry about that now.
“We have something important to share with you, Sammal,” I say. “Something that affects the security of the Sapphire and all its lands and people. But first, we have to know that we can trust you.”
“Of course.” He stumbles over his words, looking from me to Oriana. “Of course, most high lady. I live to serve you.”
Right. Here goes. I take a deep breath. “My brother wants the Sapphire for himself. To that end, he forced Oriana into marriage. He treated her cruelly and prevented her from telling anyone of it. She escaped, with my help, and now we have to find a way to stop him taking her birthright.”
“Your bloodline is sworn to mine,” Oriana adds. We’ve agreed not to mention magic; it makes people frightened or sceptical, neither of which would be useful to us at present. So the plan is to hurry through the story without giving Oceantree the chance to ask too many hows or whys. “I need your help, Sammal. Will you help me?”
We wait, hoping that a person who would ride off towards the horizon in response to an ancient beacon-fire is also the kind of person who will respond to a direct appeal for help from his rightful sovereign, especially when that rightful sovereign is doing her best to look like a helpless young girl in need of protection. Finally, he clears his throat.
“Then you are not here with Highest Lord Cinemand’s knowledge?”
“No.”
“You are not going into Emerald territory as a spy?”
“No. We are fleeing to a safe place, only.”
“Lord Ifor hurt you?”
Oriana closes her eyes briefly. “Yes.”
For all his insensitive questions, I can see that our story has reached him, because this is the kind of story that Oceantree likes. It fits his view of how the world works, a world in which proper high-born ladies don’t go gallivanting around the countryside, but might in certain conditions – specifically, when married to a foreigner – be permitted to flee from a cruel husband.
Abruptly, he turns to me. “You are supporting Lady Oriana against your own brother?”
I consider telling him that it’s merely a contest between Ifor and me. A family affair. I suspect it’s the kind of motive he’d expect from a Darklight. But in the end, I give him no less than the truth. “She’s my friend.”
His nod is more respectful than any gesture he’s shown me so far. Oriana’s hand covers mine, and I don’t think it’s for show. Not entirely.
“My lady, you must stay here,” Oceantree says earnestly. “Remain safe in Stonesands whilst I lead an army to drive the northerner out of the Citadel.”
Oriana shakes her head. “We cannot risk war with Northfell. And I cannot stay. He already knows I am here. You – you must be careful, Sammal.”
There was a tremor in that last sentence, too raw not to be real, and Oceantree heard it too. He bows his head. “What would you have me do?”
“At the meeting of the grand council, my father will share his belief that I have been captured by the Emerald and that the Sapphire must go to war to get me back. Then he will announce his intention to give up the throne in Ifor’s favour. The first of these, you know to be untrue. The second is what I am asking you to prevent. I know you will not let me down.”
Not again, comes the unspoken rider; his head dips even lower in response.
“But, my lady – how?”
This is where I bow out. I stand up hastily, with a mumble of this is Sapphire business – I know he loves that excuse – before heading for the door. No doubt Oceantree will have more questions, once I’m out of the room and he can speak to Oriana alone. But he heard the truth, and that’s what matters. Now Oriana just has to explain her secret part of the plan.
I could discover it, if I wanted to. She must know that as well as I do. I could slip into her head without her being any the wiser. But I want her to trust me again. Not yet, she said, but that isn’t the same as never.
I have to keep believing that.