“Ferma liked you,” she said, and he flinched, closing his eyes. “You’re one of the few who gained her respect.”
He wanted to tell her that he had not earned it. That they were all fools for trusting him. His arm felt heavy. The banyan tree rustled in the rain, whispering, and he thought he could hear it tell of his deceit, his treachery.
“You should rest.” He stepped back, moving into the shadows of the tree. “Your coronation is in just two days.”
“I mean to pardon you as soon as I am queen,” she said. She picked her way carefully over the sprawling roots and took his hand, rolling back his sleeve to reveal his blackened wrist, the burns. “And I’ll make sure you’ll never burn again.”
“I’m fine,” he interjected and tried to move away, to put the tree between them, but her grip was strong, and her eyes never left his.
“And then you’ll be free,” she continued as if he had not said a word. She was so close that he could feel her breath on his skin. So close that he could see the tremble of her lips. “But will you stay? Will you help me rebuild what they’ve destroyed?”
“I can’t,” he said, and the words dropped like stones. He tried to sound resolute. He had made his allegiance. He could not stop a raging desert wind.
He pulled away, tripping on the banyan roots. Cold drops of rain kissed his cheek.
“Trust me,” he said. “You won’t want me.”
CHAPTER 31
ELENA
Here comes the queen, the young, frightening queen! Make way, make way, I say, for the queen has come! Long live the queen!
—fromThe Odyssey of Goromount: A Play
Elena examined the blackened remains of her room and garden. Dawn had not yet breached the horizon, and the air smelled of ash and promise.
Today, she would be crowned queen, but she could not muster the joy that she knew she should feel. There was only hollowness accompanied by a sense of despair.
She made her way through her courtyard, stepping carefully. The servants had cleared out most of the mess, but she spotted the ghosts of her rampage: a shattered stone from her fountain, the nub of an ironwood tree, shriveled lotus petals. The charred remains of a banyan raked the blooming sky. She reached up and split off a branch. Dry flakes of soot sprinkled from her hands. Elena sat on what had once been a bench, the broken branch in her lap. Nothing stirred. There was no chirp of a morning dove, nor even the faintest whisper of the wind. There was only her, and the skeletons of the things she had destroyed.
In her anger, she had not recognized the depths of her rampage, but now, in this silence, she understood. The aftermath of fire. The emptiness it created.
“Your Highness.”
She turned to see Diya approaching, holding a small yellow square in her hand.
“I—I don’t mean to interrupt. I’m drawing the bath right now, but I remembered I had this.” She placed the parchment on the bench. “I took it when you, when you…” She smiled painfully. “Just come when you’re ready. The tub should be full by then.”
Elena stared at the perfect square. “Thank you, Diya,” she said finally. “And I’m sorry for endangering your life. I did not mean to hurt you.”
Gently, Diya touched her shoulder and squeezed. “We all do awful things in grief.”
When she was alone, Elena picked up the square. She turned it over, but there were no markings on the other side. Slowly, Elena unfolded it, the paper crinkling as she flattened it against her thigh. At the bottom corner of the letter, she spotted her mother’s initials.A. M.And beneath that, a faded drawing of a jasmine.
Elena,
If you have received this letter, then you must know how to wield fire. What a horrible, beautiful responsibility. I am sorry I am not there to guide you.
When you were five suns, you asked me why the desert rages—if there was a reason behind the storms. Do you remember what I told you? For the wind to sing, it must destroy the dunes.
When Alabore built this kingdom, he killed his eldest daughter, his firstborn. He carved out her chest and buried her heart in the desert. This is how he built Ravence—with blood.
But he did not build Ravence with the help of the Phoenix. The legends say the twin moons helped him, but I have read of a deeper, darker power. I do not know its name, but the writings of Priestess Nomu say it is as old as the Phoenix. This power fed visions to Alabore, led him to the desert, and tormented him into subsequent madness. It imprisoned the Phoenix in a dark, stony hell, and now the Eternal Fire demands sacrifice for Alabore’s sin. Your grandfather sacrificed his youngest brother. Your father refused, but I have chosen for him. He will die if I don’t, and I would be a terrible ruler by myself. I am sorry for it, my love. We are stuck in an endless cycle, but I hope you will finally be the one to break it.
The Eternal Fire does not rage because it is angry; it rages because it grieves.
Ravence has been built on borrowed time. There will be a day when the Eternal Fire cannot be kept quiet. When the cycle breaks. The Phoenix shall awaken, and She will seek Her Prophet and other brethren. Remember, there are three types of fire.
