He winks once before turning and barking orders at his men.
I watch the crew rally to him, excited for new marching orders. The wildness of his invitation thrums in my chest. It takes effort to bury that rebellious voice. I know that a quiet life is the right choice. Some pasture up in the mountains with a couple of horses. My family visiting when they can. That wouldn’t be the worst life in the world.
But my mind is drawn back to the map on Antonio Rowan’s desk. The next few months will transform those figurines into real armies. The towns he marked will become battle locations. I’ve known the names of some of those towns my whole life. There are Dividian people—my people—who call those places home. Who’s going to fight for them?
The sun is rising over the mountains.
I spread out my phoenix’s ashes. As I kneel over them, Luca approaches with the belt of components I requested. He stands there at my shoulder like he’s about to witness a miracle.
“Finally get to see the Alchemist in action.”
I smile. “I fell in love with alchemy when I was a little girl. It wasn’t the rebirths. Or the riding, really. It was the components. I loved that a pinch of onyx could summon a horse with shock-resistant hooves. But if you take a whole handful of the stuff?” Carefully, I start spreading the necessary powders, mixing them in perfect circles. “A whole handful will get you a horse with an armored hide. Just a few ounces. That’s the only difference between a proper country riding horse and one that’s ready to ride into battle. I love that even the smallest details count.”
Luca asks the one question that matters.
“Which one are you going to summon?”
I rise, dusting my hands off, eyes to the distant mountains. We watch the sun cut through the valley and stir my ashes. I stare into that blinding light and smile.
“Let’s ride.”
On the first holy day after the Races, he returns.
I knew I’d never have to seek him out. Instead, he walks around the ranch like he’s in mourning. Twice around the empty pastures, circling and circling before the sun’s even up. I warm some old coffee and watch, knowing how hard it must be, how lost he must feel without Imelda. My eyes roam the dark, checking for others, but he’s alone. The Empire’s too busy to have much interest in a kid like him. All the better.
I throw on a coat and head out to meet him. He’s pulled himself up onto a fence by then. He sits, thumbing a hole in his jeans, acting like he’s seven again. Poor kid.
“Farian,” I say. “This is unexpected.”
He barely looks up. “I didn’t know where else to go.”
“She’ll be back. You know that, don’t you?”
For a while, he doesn’t say anything. Which is fair. I’m not sure I believe it, either. Every whisper carries war with it. There’s talk of conscriptions. Imelda’s name might get forgotten in all the mess, but there’s also talk that she’s the one who started what’s coming. One newspaper claimed she actually fought in the first battle. Sounded like a load of wash until I saw the location of the fight: Gig’s Wall. Just a few miles north of where she was planning on heading. It didn’t sound so impossible then.
“Why’d she do it?” Farian asks. “Why not just try to win the right way?”
“She wanted to break the rules. That was the whole point.”
Farian shakes his head. “So now we look like cheaters. Ashlords can point at her and say, ‘Look what the Dividian do with what we give them.’ ”
“Oh, wake up, Farian.”
He looks a little shocked by the exhaustion in my voice.
“Did you ever wonder at our people’s name?” I ask him, pressing. “The Dividian. It originates in Ashlord documents. It’s the history they gave us. A simple meaning: the divided ones. We arrived at their shores divided. We live in their land divided. It’s become second nature to us, almost like breathing. And I have no doubt it is how the Ashlords like us.”
My eyes trace the distant land, hills that were never really ours.
“Imelda took something back from them, Farian. We don’t live high and mighty. We live in their world, by their rules. One of those rules is that we’re never allowed to rise too high. They’ve been stealing who we are from us for centuries. Imelda defied that. For at least a few minutes, she united all of us. On their biggest stage, with the entire Empire watching, a Dividian outdanced the Ashlords. Don’t look down on her for changing their rules.”
Farian breaks beneath the weight of that, shaking his head, on the verge of tears.
“We don’t know if she outdanced them. She got over the fence, but then what? I think—I think I’m trying to be mad because it’s easier than being afraid. What if they killed her, Martial? What if they tracked her into the mountains and captured her?”
I reach out and set a hand on his shoulder. “She made it.”
“You know that?” Farian asks desperately. “You can’t possibly know that.”
“I feel it. Down in my bones. Don’t you?”
It takes a second, but he nods. “I’m just worried. Until I see her and know she’s all right, I’ll always be worried. Those components she stole are worth a lot, Martial. Even if she escapes the Ashlords, someone else might kill her for them. I’m worried I’ll never see her again.”
I let out a sigh. “Well, I can help a little with that fear.”
Reaching back, I remove the bills from my pocket. I’ve had them hidden in the floorboards for days. Farian’s cut of the winnings. I thought I’d have to scatter the sales, but with war coming on, vendors are positioning themselves for the long run and buying up what components they can. It’s been easy to sell off everything, except the Ivory of Earl. That one’s rare enough to get someone’s attention. I’ll sell it off when the time comes, but for now I’ll have to wait. I take the banded wad of money and stuff it into his hand.
“Twenty-five thousand legions.”
He stares at it. “What?”
“That’s your cut. Twenty-five thousand legions.”
“Martial…”
“It’s not from me.” I smile at him. “It’s from Imelda. She said go to school. She better be invited to all your premieres.”
He fans a thumb through the bills, stunned. “But…her family…”
“Will get plenty of money. Don’t worry about that.”