Leo bent down beside her. She was a young woman, no more than twenty-five suns. Elena’s age. Gently, he closed her eyes.
Bodies lay everywhere—young, old, woman, man. A gale blew through the mountain, stirring the ends of their bloodied robes.
As he stared at the heap of bodies, Leo felt something integral leave him. His fear, maybe, his remorse, perhaps, but as he slowly rose to his feet, he knew it wasn’t either of those, but his humanity.
He would never be forgiven. That was all right. The rain would cleanse this mountain and baptize it into something pure. That’s what his people did. Like Alabore, they created something holy out of something forsaken. His deed today was but an echo of history. Leo was not the first, and he knew for certain that he would not be the last. Elena may not follow in his footsteps, but her children, his grandchildren, might. And their children. And the ones who came after them. They would repeat the deeds of their ancestors because that’s what it took to survive. That’s what it took to keep Ravence alive.
Peace is cruel, his father had once told him.It dances like sand in the wind and blows out of your reach just when you are about to grasp it.
Leo looked past the flapping robes and to the desert beyond. There, within the dunes, was his home. It had not known peace, not in his father’s lifetime or in his. But perhaps Elena might find it. Leo walked past the dead priestess. Elena might enjoy the peace he had killed for.
He found Ferma crouched within the roots of the ancient gulmohar tree, cleaning the blood off her hardened hair with a practiced hand.
“You did well,” he said.
The Yumi said nothing as the gulmohar branches whistled in the wind like dry bones rattling in a cage.
“The remaining seven priests and the high priestess will be kept under guard,” he said. “That’s enough for the coronation. To keep appearances.”
But even as he said this, the words tasted false. For what were appearances but a mere shade of truth? The high priestess donned her orange robes, but she was just a puppet for a higher power. The Prophet spoke of bringing ruin upon sinners, but she was a sham, a figurehead who cloaked a harsh reality. The gods were cruel, and the heavens forever out of man’s reach.
And him? What was he?
Ferma wiped off the last drop of blood and folded the cloth into a perfect red square. “You need to teach Elena how to hold fire,” she said. “If she cannot hold fire before the priests and the people, they will never accept her.”
“Won’t they?” Leo said softly.
At this, Ferma turned to him, alert. “What do you mean?”
“The priests will not deny her, not anymore. Not after what we’ve done today. And as for the people.” Leo spread his arms like the branches above him. “I’ve ordered that the coronation ceremony will not be open to the public like the ones before. Danger is too high, with the Arohassin’s threat. But one member of the public will attend. Jangir.”
Ferma’s eyes widened. “And he will repeat anything you tell him.”
“He will believe what I want him to.” Leo met her eyes. “Don’t you see, Ferma? Elena can still become queen without holding fire. She will have the throne.”
“But this… this is…” Her hair quivered. “This is unprecedented. Peoplewillfind out sooner or later.”
“Not when we have a war on our border,” Leo said. “Then they’ll be more concerned whether or not Elena can lead armies and protect the kingdom.”
“Forget the people then. What of Elena?” The Yumi’s eyes bored into him, as sharp as the blades of her hair. “What will you tell her? What will she think?”
She will curse me for denying her birthright, Leo thought. But she will have the throne.Like she has always wanted, like she has always dreamed.He hoped it would be enough. Maybe, suns from now, he would earn Elena’s forgiveness once she realized fire did not make a ruler—strength, foresight, and discipline did. He would help her protect Ravence, guide her as monarch like his father had not. And if she didn’t come around… Leo told himself he could bear her bitterness. As long as Elena and Ravence were safe, he would bear all the hate in the twelve kingdoms.
“If you will not tell her, tell me,” Ferma said. “Why won’t you teach her, Leo? What wrong has she committed that she cannot receive the blessings of the Phoenix?”
The wind whistled through the branches of the ancient gulmohar tree, and in its song, Leo heard it laugh at him.
Selfish, selfish Malhari.
Leo looked at Ferma, torn. If he told her, she might tell Elena and reveal his true nature to his daughter. And yet Ferma would be the only one to understand. She, like him, had loved and lost Aahnah. She had grieved for her as much as he.
“First you must understand, the Phoenix’s blessings are not benedictions,” Leo said in a heavy voice. “They are a curse. When Alabore Ravence sought the Phoenix to build his kingdom, She granted his wish with a condition—that if a Ravani heir can hold Her flame, they must sacrifice someone of blood or love to the Eternal Fire.
“When my father told me on the eve of my coronation, I refused. He had sacrificed his own brother, but I could not do the same with my family. I gave the inferno nothing.” Leo paused, throat tight. “But Aahnah learned of our curse in the scrolls. And she did what I could not.
“I couldn’t control the flames then,” he whispered. “No matter how hard I tried, they fought me.”
“I remember,” Ferma said, her voice hollow. “Aahnah had called to it. Some chant she had discovered in the library. And when the Great Fire rushed to her…”
