The next morning, we rode in silence through golden grasslands and fields thick with wheat. The path we followed was well maintained, nothing but grasslands and scattered trees in all directions, save for the occasional town we passed through.
The vineyards appeared as we grew closer to Eselin, lines of pale, woody vines resembling miniature trees, stretched out in rows like soldiers. They were lush and heavy with grapes, the scent of sugar subtle in the air. Come Belin’s Day, everyone who wished to would take the next three days off work to harvest the grapes, ending each day with a grand festival and family feast.
A dark shape formed on the horizon, growing clearer with each passing minute. The ground sloped up into low, rolling hills, which rose higher still, forming the beginning of the highlands that made up the rest of Trendell’s territory. And high on the hills sat Eselin.
The city was filled with color.
It unfurled around us like the spreading petals of countless vibrant flowers, the architecture here similar to that of Terin, only on a much grander scale. The arches rose into beautifully painted domes, the paved streets lined with walkways and alive with voices and movement as people prepared for the coming Belin’s Day feast.
Auma led us down a broad street where taverns bordered shops selling glassware and flowing robes of iridescent silk. Teams of people strung garlands of flowers across buildings and hung extra lanterns in the streets, moving with a swift efficiency that made me wonder if they were one of the committees Caliza’s husband, Kuren, had told me so much about. Trendell was a place of formality and organization, and he’d always said the kingdom never ran smoother than when it was preparing for something.
Voices rose as people spotted Resyries. A child shouted, pointing, and Res puffed out his feathers.
That was the crow I knew and loved. I grinned as he strutted alongside me. Maybe I’d been worried for nothing.
People recognized Auma and her soldiers, parting to grant us passage. We walked unimpeded up the sloping road toward the highest point in the city, where a terraced arrangement of rose-gold buildings waited. A set of low steps led up the middle, buildings bordering each side, interspersed with flat areas brimming with gardens of midnight-green foliage and dots of wildflower color.
At the top sat a wide, two-story building with an open face of columns and arches framed by curtains of brilliant royal purple fluttering in the gathering evening breeze. My stomach twirled along with the curtains as the reality of what waited for me sank in. Somewhere up there sat the Trendellan king and queen, and in their hands, they held the fate of Rhodaire.
Somewhere up there, Estrel waited.
We dismounted at the base of the terraced hill, servants emerging from buildings at the base level to tend to our horses. Kiva untied Ericen’s wrists from the horse but kept them bound, Sinvarra drawn and ready at her side. One of the Jin soldiers kept her bow in hand, an arrow in easy reach.
Res fluttered to my side. “No flopping over,” I warned him. “We’re supposed to impress them, not ply them for dinner.”
He straightened as if already beneath the scrutiny of important eyes. He might be lazier than me on a Rhodairen summer day, but he also liked his praise.
By the time we reached the top of the stairs, my breath came a little faster, my skin gleaming with sweat despite the slowly setting sun. As we crested the final stair, stepping into a wide, rectangular terrace of scattered chairs and tables, I froze.
Among a small, gathered group stood Estrel.
She’d been burned. Badly.
Scar tissue covered the left side of her body. Her skin twisted from the newly healed burns starting at the tips of her fingers, stretching up her arm, around her neck, and down her shoulder blade. Her raven hair, cut to right below her ears, stopped at a hard line halfway down the left side of her skull. The style might have looked purposeful if it weren’t for the burns marking her scalp.
My insides turned to stone. I knew Estrel had been burned, but this… I swallowed hard against the rising lump in my throat, a slow fury snaking its way up my skin.
Razel had done this.
Estrel wore her flying leathers, the supple material molded to her muscular frame. The remnants of the gold and black lines of her Corvé tattoo glimmered in the fading light, and my heart panged at the sight of the crow master marking.
Someone across from her spotted us and said something to her. She fell still as a deer caught in the moonlight.
She turned. I lurched forward. She’d barely broken from the group when I careened into her arms, nearly knocking her to the ground. My injuries stung, but I didn’t care as her strength enveloped me, the familiar scent of leather and rookeries rising off her. Tears burned, threatening to spill unchecked, and I squeezed her tighter to keep them at bay.
“You’re here,” Estrel murmured in her familiar, resonating tone. “You made it, Little Peep.”
Something broke open inside me at the name. Estrel had trained me to be a rider nearly my entire life, but she always said I excelled most at talking. The nickname threatened to resurrect the ghosts of memories I’d locked away, memories of fire and acrid smoke, of people screaming… I shoved them away, tearing free of her suddenly as the joy of seeing her shuttered into something dark and empty.
“Where have you been?” I demanded.
Her smile slipped. “That’s a long story.”
“That’s not an answer!” The words tore from me with unexpected strength. I’d known I was angry with Estrel for what she’d done, but I hadn’t realized how deep that well went. It hurt to know she’d kept so much from me. I wanted to believe she’d had her reasons, but nothing felt like enough.
“Why?” I asked hoarsely.
Why had she left? Why had she let me think she was dead?
Her arms enveloped me once more. I went still.
“I owe you so many answers,” she said softly. “I promise I’ll give them to you when I can.”
Feeling cold and suddenly aware of the people around us, I relented with a nod. Now wasn’t the time. We had to appear united.
As Estrel pulled back, her eyes widened, finding Res. “Oh, Thia.”
He straightened beneath her gaze, and she moved slowly forward, as if approaching something sacred. Res lowered his head in a small bow as Estrel reached out a hand. It hovered just above his brow, fingers trembling. Then she closed it into a fist and pulled away.
For half a second, her composure fractured, and I knew how depthless the despair that threatened to wash over her was. That she couldn’t even bring herself to touch Res… Suddenly, I regretted my outburst of anger, though it still simmered inside me.
Estrel straightened, drawing a deep breath and releasing it slowly. Her attention fell on Kiva, whose wry smile broke into a full grin. Estrel let out a familiar, barking laugh, a sound I never thought I’d hear again. They clasped hands.
Estrel glanced at Ericen as she and Kiva released each other. “You picked up a stray. How’d you come by him?”
“Plucked him out of the sea,” Kiva replied. “I never did have much luck fishing.”
“I’m sure you’re far better at it than swordplay.” Ericen flashed her a sharp smile, and I nearly knocked him upside the head. I knew what he was doing. Stranded in unfamiliar territory and surrounded by enemies, he’d fallen back into the familiar comfort of playing the arrogant Illucian prince.
“He saved my life,” I explained. “It’s a long story.” I couldn’t keep the bitterness out of my voice.
“I say we just slit his throat and be done with him.” Samra’s hand fell to a dagger at her hip.
Estrel smirked. “As pleasant as ever, Castair.”
Samra gave her a stony look, and I looked between them. How did they know each other?
“We’re not killing him,” I said.
“He could be useful in bargaining with Razel,” Auma suggested, to which Ericen snorted.
“Good luck with that,” he said. “In fact, she might leave Trendell alone if you agree to kill me.”
“Family squabbles?” Kiva asked, sounding delighted.
“What part of traitorous prince do you not understand?”
“The part where it came out of your mouth.”
Estrel folded her arms, her expression considering. “He’s not lying. We just learned today there’s a price on his head. His own mother wants him dead. The prince truly is a traitor.”
Ericen flinched, and that simple slip of emotion tugged at my heart.
“Take him to a cell,” Auma ordered. “We’ll handle it later.”
Two of the Jin soldiers stepped forward, each taking one of Ericen’s arms as they led him away. He glanced back, holding my gaze until he disappeared into a columned building.