The Queen's Rising

To the far west was the cold land of Grimhildor. To the south were the kingdoms of Valenia and Bandecca.

“Would you rather fall in love with your master or your patron?”

I was not here because I deserved it; I was not here because I was brimming with talent and capacity as were the other five ardens, who I loved as my true sisters.

“Heed this, Tristan Allenach, lord of the shrewd: you have bought my House to ashes. You have taken the life of the queen. And you will steal the Stone of Eventide. But know that one day, a daughter will rise from your line, a daughter who shall be two in one, passion and stone. And she will bring down your House from within and undo all your crimes. But perhaps the greatest wonder of all? She shall steal your memories to do it.”

But know that one day, a daughter will rise from your line, a daughter who shall be two in one, passion and stone. Norah Kavanagh had seen me coming in the features of Tristan’s face, had predicted my life and my purpose.

I had descended from selfish, ambitious blood.

And I was Norah Kavanagh’s vengeance. I would redeem myself.

Above us, the stars burned, slow and steady. Their light guided me home.

I am going to build a House of knowledge here.”

This was what I had told Merei before she left Maevana, hoping it would draw her back, hoping she would unite her passion with mine.

I felt Cartier’s gaze shift to me, and I turned in the saddle to meet it.

“I only want the very best of arials to teach my ardens,” I continued. “Do you know where I may find one?”

The wind tousled his hair as he smiled at me, a gleam of midnight in his eyes as he rose to my challenge. “I know of one.”

“Tell him to apply at once.”

“Don’t worry. He will.”

I smiled and nudged my horse forward, leaving Cartier behind to catch me on the road.

Time became luminous, as if the moon had married the sun, the minutes eventually tugging on my heart to make me see how late it was, that night had almost fallen.

We stepped out into the dusk together, weaving back through the weeds; the nightingales sang for his return, the crickets chirped one final melody before the frost could officially silence them.

I laid my finger over his lips and said, “My father has invited you to dinner in our hall. We had better leave now, or else he will think the worst.”

Cartier dared to steal one more kiss and then he let me go, gathering his cloak and his satchel.