“You will come here again one day.”
“I know,” Stix said, even if her gut wasn’t so sure.
“We are here to protect the people, nothing more. That was always the mistake of the Exalted Ones—pushing the levers of the land where all could see, and then growing bitter when the people did not appreciate. Praise is not ours to claim, though, Water Brawler. Paladins were not meant to rule.”
“I don’t want praise. I don’t want to rule.”
“If not that, then … Ah.” Kahina’s face relaxed, and Stix hated the pity in her eyes. “You are not the first Paladin to fall for their charge.”
“I don’t know what you mean.” Stix strode past Kahina; pipe smoke wafted up her nostrils.
“Of course you do.” Kahina trailed behind, unhurried. “I loved my ruler once too, and I have never loved anyone as much as I loved them. But they could not love me in return, for that was not what they were put here to do.”
Stix walked faster, noisier than she ought to have been, desperate to end this conversation. Ferns lashed against her knees. Nettle pricked against her forearms.
“Wait.” Kahina’s hand grabbed Stix’s forearm, and though Stix wanted to bark at the other woman to leave her be, she allowed Kahina to tow her to a stop. She couldn’t help it. Rhian had once been a comfort to Baile; their souls still sang to each other. “You will see your queen in her golden crown,” Kahina told her, “just as I will see mine wearing a crown of iron. But it will not be two crowns, so much as one woven together.”
Stix gritted her teeth, wishing those words didn’t have such pointed fangs. “You mean they will rule as one.”
“I do.” Kahina sucked a long drag from her pipe. Smoke hissed out between her teeth. “That is what our great maker wants, and it is best to accept such reality now. It will save you from heartache in the end.”
Stix’s teeth gnashed all the harder, but she could no more deny Kahina’s words than she could the sea always inside her veins. And Ryber’s cards had warned her, even if she hadn’t wanted to see.
The Queen of Hawks, the Queen of Foxes, and the Giant.
“Come.” Kahina released her hold on Stix and pushed through the jungle. Stix followed more slowly, her fingers scraping over limestone while the jungle clicked and wheezed around her. She had come here a month ago, following the voices. Come this way, keep coming. It had been so easy back then, when she had thought she would soon return to Vivia’s side. And despite what Kahina might say, Stix wasn’t abandoning that hope yet.
She missed Vivia. She missed her father. She missed the Cleaved Man and she missed home.
Soon, Stix caught up to Kahina, now standing before a jagged doorway sliced into the limestone. It was one of only a few passages remaining into the Sightwitch mountain, though it was half destroyed. Blue light hummed around it. Nearby, Ryber shuffled her cards absently, watching Stix approach with a sympathetic slant to her brow. She never missed anything; Stix sometimes wished she would.
Fortunately, Ryber said nothing as she tucked away her cards. “Ready?” she asked, and at Stix’s and Kahina’s nods, she dipped low and stepped through. Static frizzed over Stix’s skin. Ryber disappeared.
Kahina went next, pipe still puffing even as she ducked through and her smoke winked away. Then it was only Stix who remained, Stix still lingering. All she wanted to do was run—sprint right back to Vivia and say, I’m so sorry I left. I’ll never go again. But that wasn’t her path. Not yet, at least.
There was work to be done. The rest of the Six were waiting for her, and strange as it was, she missed these people she didn’t really know. They were old family with Threads still bound to hers..
Yet before Stix could scrabble through the canted doorway, a familiar purr crooned over the jungle’s choir. Moments later, a furry cat rubbed against her calf.
And Stix laughed as she peered down at the six-fingered tabby. “I don’t know how you always find me.” She hefted up the creature. “But I’ll admit I’m glad to see you.” Then she hugged the tabby close, and murmured: “Though we cannot always see the blessing in the loss, strength is the gift of our Lady Baile, and she will never abandon us.”
Together, Stix and the familiar six-fingered tabby entered the Sightwitch mountain.
FIFTY-SIX
The prince awoke to a dog howling. He couldn’t say how he recognized the sound; he’d never had a dog, and they had been rare in the Nihar lands. With so many human mouths to feed, the only animals worth keeping had been livestock.
Yet somehow Merik knew as soon as he came into blurry consciousness that a tiny hound called for him. The sound scratched against his eardrums, part whimper, part wail. Sharp and hungry and alone. He wanted it to end as soon as he heard it.
With monumental effort, Merik forced open his eyelids. Cold scraped against the flesh. Ice whispered against his pupils. Then they were wide. Then he could see. Blue, blue, brilliant, glowing blue. No end, no beginning …
Except for that shadow.
No, three shadows, he realized the longer he stared. Two that were vaguely human, though small and lithe. And the final shadow that was the source of all that whining—a massive mound, far too large to be a puppy, yet keening like one all the same.
“She needs a master,” the taller of the humanlike shadows declared. She had to yell to be heard, and her voice was high and melodic. A child, Merik thought at the same time he realized the language she used: old Arithuanian. He’d never actually heard it spoken aloud before.
“She needs a master,” the girl repeated. Then the second shadow piped up: “And Sirmaya says that for now, it’ll have to be you.” She laughed, the delighted sound of a child feeling genuine pleasure, and for the first time since Merik’s awakening, the puppy’s cries faded to silence. Its shadowy form shifted. Then unfurled, stretching into a creature far larger than the two girls—and larger than Merik too.
“You’ll have to hurry,” the first girl said. “Because the ice is hungry, and if you don’t break free, it will eat the baby. But you can do it, Wind King. I saw it, and so it will be.”
“However,” the second girl inserted, “there’s one thing you have to do once you’re free: you have to find our father. Right, Lizzie?”
A shadowy nod. “Sirmaya tells me he’s in Poznin right now. He calls himself the Raider King, though I don’t believe it’s a name he gave himself. Find him and help him,” she added, no begging in her childish voice. Only command. “His goal is a noble one, if misguided in the end. Now come along, Cora. We have work to do.” She grasped at the smaller girl. Then together they turned, and together they left, vanishing shadows soon absorbed by blue.
Which left only the puppy still waiting nearby. It was whining again and beneath its shrill cries, a crunching, crackling sound tore out. It vibrated through the ice, juddered Merik’s whole body, and through the blue that clouded his eyes, he glimpsed frozen shards bursting up from the floor.
The child had been right: if he didn’t hurry, the ice would eat the puppy just as it had eaten him.
The puppy’s whines turned to screams, and without thought, Merik found himself fighting. Punching and kicking and calling to winds in a tomb made of ice. With each howl of canine pain, he clawed. With each wail, he slashed with tiny razors of wind. Until he too was howling and wailing and screaming, like the puppy being ripped apart.