Lightfall, p.37
Lightfall, page 37
Your grandfather Ivan was the last to do this. He took his journey to Valgard, and after a year among them he feared those people and their wells of power so much, it turned to hate. Twenty-two years later, my own coming-of-age birthday was spent at war with the people who opened their kingdom to my father during his. With everything happening in the south this summer, I feared to offer you the freedom denied to me.
Now I will give you better than that. I will give you a year, beginning now ~ a year wherever you choose, even if it’s learning the ways and means of our new allies in the North. Though I will miss you every day, I trust your judgement. Wherever you are, you are precisely where you’re meant to be. Know that the Citadel fires will be kept burning, and when you choose to come home, we will throw the gates wide open for you. This is all I can offer, the only way I can express my gratitude for how you spared us this war. How you have, perhaps, saved us all.
You are in my heart and your mother’s, a blending that cannot be broken. I love you, Cistine. You are the best of all I am and all I will ever be.
The unsteadiness of his signature showed he finished the letter weeping; she wept, too, when she read it, the parchment fluttering from her shaking fingers to the floor. Thorne wrapped his arms around her and pulled her head against his chest while she cried for a father whose year of freedom became a year of bloodshed, a king who never journeyed, a boy who became a man with a kingdom to lead after a war he never wanted.
She cried for the world she’d saved, and for the choice she’d already made; the question answered the moment Thorne walked through her door.
“I’m staying,” she said through her tears. “If Valgard will have me, I’ll continue negotiations around the treaty, help lay trade routes and share learnings and—”
“Stay with us.” Voice husky, Thorne drew her head up from above his heart. “With me.”
She stretched up to press her lips to his. “With you, Starchaser.”
“She stays!” Quill roared in victory, pounding the table in the middle of their parlor. Beside him, Pippet tossed up both arms and cheered, and the whole cabal raised their glasses in a toast.
Cistine blushed. “As if it’s some great surprise.”
“It isn’t. We’re all just that clever,” Tatiana smirked.
“I am surprised,” Aden admitted, stirring his soup. “Your love for your kingdom is no secret even to those who know you least.”
“Agreed,” Sander said.
Cistine shrugged, tearing her loaf of hot bread in half and reaching around Mira to dip it in Thorne’s bowl. “I have my whole life to love Talheim. I only have a year to go where I choose, so I choose here. And I choose all of you.”
Mira laid a hand to her breast. “Such flattery!”
“It’s not flattery. She means it,” Ashe said, elbows braced on the table, grinning at Cistine. “I’m glad you’re staying. We still have things to discuss.”
That was absolutely true; because Ashe was here instead of with the Cadre, Maleck’s arm flung casually around the back of her chair, a fiery pendant hanging openly over her heart. And she was already more at ease than Cistine had seen her in a decade. “Whenever you’re ready, so am I.”
They all returned to eating, and between mouthfuls they took turns bringing Maleck and Ashe up to pace on the trial, the attacks and thefts, and what Rakel and Devitrius were doing. Ashe’s calm answer to it all was, “We’ll manage this. One step at a time.”
When their bowls were scraped clean and Pippet had curled up sideways with her head on her brother’s shoulder, Mira cleared her throat, quieting the smattering of conversation among them. “Now that we’re all full and relaxed, and a few of us have a bit of mead in them,” she shot a playful smile at Sander, ruefully helping himself to a third goblet, “we’re going to conduct a small exercise.”
“Like training?” Pippet yawned.
“Something like that.” Arms braced on the table, hands clasped, Mira stared at one of them in particular. “I want everyone at this table to tell Thorne precisely what they think of him.”
Thorne’s smile froze and his eyes widened. “I don’t think that’s necessary.”
“I do.” Mira’s tone was quiet but firm. “Did you really think you could have me watching your cabal for signs of trouble and cries for help, and not see yours?”
“I am a Chancellor. A leader—”
“Precisely why I’m not letting this go on a day longer. Thorne, you trusted me with your cabal, I’m not asking anything but that you continue in that faith.” When he didn’t protest again, a strange desperation in his eyes but his lips pressed shut, she gestured to Aden. “You first.”
He frowned between her and Thorne, then reclined in his seat, arms folded. “You’ve grown from the cousin I was forced to care for to the leader I’m proud to follow. I’m honored to serve this kingdom with you, whether as a member of your cabal or as a Tribune. Whatever you require of me.”
Thorne blinked, saying nothing. Ashe, at Aden’s side, shrugged. “I haven’t always been fond of you, but maybe that’s because we’re not so different…and until recently I hated myself, too. But you’re a good man, Thorne. You helped Cistine achieve the peace she set out for. I look forward to learning more about nobility from you. And I’m excited about your…other prospects as well.”
His lip curled slightly, and she shot him a sly smile that raised the hairs on the back of Cistine’s neck. But she had no time to ponder that look more deeply before Maleck said, “You gave me hope when I had none, laid a future at my feet in a place where I belonged. I wouldn’t be the man I am today without you. For that, I will always be grateful.”
Thorne’s abdomen lifted in a shallow breath, and he dipped his head. Maleck lowered his eyes in turn.
“Thorne is the greatest!” Pippet cried, and everyone broke into chuckles, even him. “He’s smart, and he’s silly, and I always feel safe with him. And I’m going to be the first female Tribune in Kanslar, so I can’t wait to serve under him!”
Thorne arched a brow. Quill shrugged, jostling his sister. “Why wasn’t I consulted about this?”
“Because it’s none of your business, dolt.” Pippet nudged him back.
“Dolt? Who taught you that word?”
Ashe raised her eyes innocently. Maleck pinched her underarm, and she smacked the back of his head. Laughing under her breath, Mira prompted, “Quill?”
Quill lounged, sliding a cinnamon stick between his teeth. “What is there to say? You’ve been my brother since we were five years old. When Baba Kallah and my father left us at Kristoff and Natalya’s that first time, and I listened to you ordering Aden and me around, playing like you were already a Chancellor. But then you stopped, and you asked if we could play that game. You asked me to be your guard, to watch your back. No one ever asked me what I wanted before, not even Helga. But you did, the first time I laid eyes on you. And I thought, this little bandayo, this gods-loved boy-Chancellor…I’d follow him to the ends of the world.” He shrugged and cleared his throat. “Still would, Allet.”
Tatiana shifted in her chair and bared her palms. “You’ve never let me get away with anything. No matter how often I hid the drinking and fighting and fear, you always found out in the end. And I used to hate you for it, but you took that in stride, too. You trusted me and believed in me even when I didn’t deserve it. So, I’m with Quill. To the end of this world and beyond it, Thorne.”
Ariadne leaned forward and spoke with calm ferocity. “When everything I loved crumbled around me, you stood there, reaching out your hand. You looked at someone your father broke and saw a warrior rising from the ashes. There has not been a day since where I have not leaned on you to help remind me of who I am. You honor me with your friendship and trust, and I remember you every day in my prayers.”
There were no dry eyes at the table when Sander cleared his throat and rocked his haunches under Mira’s pointed stare. “Well, I think it’s obvious by now I’ve long believed in your vision for Valgard’s future, even when the whole kingdom was convinced you abandoned us these last ten years. You were a Chancellor worth waiting for…and as Aden says, one worth serving in whatever capacity.”
Mira squeezed Sander’s shoulder gently. “Cistine?”
Thorne tensed, avoiding her eyes. Heart aching, she wondered if all those days of holding him at arm’s length while she battled her own specters had fed his, made him believe he was unwanted, unlovable, unworthy—everything Salvotor and Rakel ground into his heart from his youngest days.
Crying for the third time that day—and resigned to the fact that she might never stop—she pushed back her chair, slipping her fingers over Thorne’s shoulder and tugging until he reluctantly turned his seat toward her, gaze still aslant. She knelt, gripped his cheeks in her hands, and forced up his head just enough that he had to look at her.
“I love you,” she whispered. “With my whole heart, for my whole life. Maybe I’ve always been the princess I am now, but I never would’ve found her if I hadn’t found you first. That first day we met, you remember what you told me? That you wouldn’t give me respect I didn’t earn and you wouldn’t hand me my life…I had to fight for it.” She brushed away his tears before they reached his half-parted lips, where silent, heavy breaths escaped. “You taught me to fight, you showed me the way. Your father tried to make me forget that, but I fought my way back. Not just for me, not just for Talheim, but for you. Because you showed me what true leadership is. The kind of warrior and ruler I want to be.”
She tapped her thumbs against his jaw, slow and deliberate, three times. Then she leaned forward and kissed him. Once. Twice. Thrice.
After a moment, Mira spoke, her voice so soft it was nearly reverent. “We hold onto the voices of our critics much more tightly than the ones who love us. But we can change that…beginning now.”
Pippet beamed at her, sleepiness forgotten. “Can we do this for everyone? I’ll start with Quill!”
“Stars help me,” he groaned, and laughter broke across the table.
Cistine slid onto Thorne’s knees, and he wrapped his arms around her waist and pressed his face into her back, hiding his tears in her armor while Tatiana launched into a sarcastic, eloquent list of Quill’s best qualities.
All told, Cistine decided, it was the perfect eve before Darlaska.
CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO
AT LEAST ADEN had the decency to warn Ashe they were celebrating Darlaska at Cistine’s behest; but with only a day to prepare, it was a small mercy at best. Somewhere between the dress shops in the elite district and the forges in the older part of town, she decided Cistine, Aden, and Maleck would receive special gifts from her; the others would have to settle for fairly-priced chocolate.
She didn’t return to the courthouse until nearly dark, the satchel over her shoulder considerably lighter than she liked and a storm of nerves rioting in her stomach at the gifts she’d decided on. Tossing up prayers for how tonight might proceed, she crossed the peristyle and slipped into Kanslar’s wing, heels stamped with rumors and whispers of tomorrow.
The sentence was coming at last, the long delay explained by Sander after the previous night’s emotional meal while Ashe escorted him and Mira, the first of his lovers she’d ever met, back to their rooms: the High Tribunes feared Salvotor’s vengeance once they passed judgement. As long as they drew out the deliberation, it all hung in the balance. But Chancellor Bravis gave them until tomorrow; afraid or not, they would finally pass judgement.
Ashe couldn’t muster up dread or glee yet. She couldn’t think beyond what tonight would bring if everything went according to plan.
The usual parlor was oddly bare for Darlaska, no holly buds or clumps of crimson berries in sight, no silver twine or gold garlands twirled along the walls. The cabal milled in pockets, even Ariadne’s silver-haired sister, but they looked better dressed for walking than spending an evening eating, drinking, and sharing gifts.
“So you all agreed to celebrate, but not decorate?” Ashe arched a brow. “Cistine, did you actually teach them about Darlaska?”
“I did!” She glowered at Aden. “But apparently we aren’t staying here.”
He offered a bland, enigmatic smile, and Ashe’s body responded with memories of Blood Hive battle, bracing for pain. “Follow me.”
Cistine shrugged helplessly, then took Thorne’s hand while they left the parlor. Pippet did the same to Ashe, stealing her fingers right out from Maleck’s reach when he brushed by. With a grin to her apologetic smile, he fell into step with Aden instead.
Again, her nervous thoughts danced through the night’s many possible outcomes; again, she forced them away.
Twilight swallowed the world, long fingers of shadow interrupted by cold wind and white ghostlight reminiscent of Talheimic festivities. Pippet’s chatter filled up the night, interlaced with laughter among the cabal. Watching Thorne and Cistine walk together, Ashe decided it would be a very good night, regardless of how things went for her.
It was fully dark when they began to slow at last, the faces changing around her. Though Cistine and Pippet still beamed, Saychelle tossed anxious glances at a stiff-jawed Thorne, Tatiana’s heels dragged, and Quill’s swagger slowed.
All at once, Aden brought them to a halt; Ariadne’s hand clapped to her mouth.
The building would’ve been utterly unremarkable if not for its carven door: an intricate, tooled portrait of snow and ice with a boquet of flowers breaking through, symbols of new life set deep and smooth into the curved, creamy wood, governed over by delicately-rendered stars in the shape of a compass.
“I hope none of you mind I took the honor of giving the first gift,” Aden said.
Tatiana clutched a hand to her throat. “You restored your parents’ home? For us?”
He nodded. “This was always a place of sanctuary where you could expect a hot meal, a warm bed, whatever wisdom we had to share, and laughter around the table even when we didn’t. I thought it might be a welcome relief from the courthouse from time to time.”
Cistine turned shining eyes to him. “This is where you and Mira had your sessions.” He nodded, a half-smile digging into his cheek.
Ariadne slid her fingers into the door’s hewn grooves, following the delicate twine of ivy around the expertly-shaped pillars at its edges. Aden stood behind her, not quite close enough to touch, his gaze tracing everywhere her fingers went. “For what’s grown from your ruin. For everything you’ve become.”
Her hand fell from the door, swung back, and gripped his. With the other, she opened the way ahead.
Here was where all Cistine’s decorations had gone: the wreaths and ribbons, the silver and gold ghostplant buds in glass spheres hanging from the ceiling and strung through archways from room to room. Pippet let go of Ashe’s hand and bolted ahead, laughing with delight; the cabal followed more slowly, Saychelle the first to break the awestruck silence. “It’s…just how I remember it. Well, besides these gaudy Talheimic decorations.” Cistine shoved her, grinning.
“She’s right. It does look the same.” Quill gestured into the dining room. “How many nights did we sit in there, plotting the glory of Sillakove Court with Nimea and the others, talking about how we’d change the kingdom if not the world?”
“Something was always missing from those plans.” Thorne draped an arm around Cistine. “We just didn’t know it yet.”
They passed through a small tapestry hall and entered a sitting room outfitted in full Darlaska regalia, everything aglow in tones of silver and gold. Pippet sprawled on a sofa already, snacking on an apple from the fruit bowl on the table; Tatiana flopped down with her, and one by one the others joined in, taking sofas and seats, dissolving into conversation. Wine, mead, and hot apple cider splashed into cups; Aden brought a platter of cheese and vegetables from the kitchen, and the cabal relaxed like Ashe had never seen before. From satchels and bags, gifts emerged, piled up into a heap on the center table. Ashe added hers to the mound, pulse kicking at what must’ve seemed a marked absence of one in particular.
She chafed the starstone along its chain and lowered herself next to Cistine, who brought them all to attention with a clap. “I know we’re all dying of anticipation, so let’s open these gifts!” Pippet bounced in place and Quill flung his leg over hers, trapping her to the sofa. He sent Faer up to roost in the exposed rafters, eyeing the twine and wrappings for glints of jewel-brightness as Cistine passed two small parcels to Ashe and Maleck. “Everyone else has this gift already, but you should have it, too.”
Ashe tore off the butcher’s paper and twine, frowning at the vial of dark liquid inside. “Are we supposed to drink this?”
Tatiana burst into laughter, and Ariadne rolled up her sleeves, baring thick, artful patterns of flowers and vines all along her forearms—a design not unlike the front door, but buried under her skin. “It’s Atrasat blood…it conducts augments so none of us will ever be without armor again.”
Maleck stared at his vial, brow furrowing. “This is a fine gift. But it’s not for me.”
Ashe cocked her head. “And why is that?”
He raised harrowed eyes to her. “Because of how close I came to becoming like my brothers. It’s not that this strategy has no merit, but for me, it’s not even a conversation worth having. If I use augments again, I will not be myself anymore. Better if I’m consumed than living on as whatever I would become.”
A half-growled protest leaped to the tip of Ashe’s tongue, but Cistine spoke first. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe, if you used just one more augment, you would become a Bloodwight. But that doesn’t matter, because I would find some way to bring you back.”
Maleck’s smile brimmed with sympathy. “I do not think there would be anything left worth saving.”
Cistine’s eyes glinted with fighting fury. “What if I said all these things about myself? That the Key doesn’t deserve to be saved, because of what it is and how it was made.” When he merely blinked at her, she barreled on, “Well, it’s true, isn’t it? I’m strangely made. I’m…unnatural.” Her voice cracked slightly. “So, why should anyone fight to save the Key? Why not just open the Doors and be done with me? You’ll all see me in the next life, anyway. What do you say to that?”
