Blaze is undeterred. ‘I bought it, just now, at one of those stalls over there.’
I raise an eyebrow, bemused. Blaze only beams. I’m about to ask her why she’s acting like a five-year-old, and then I get it. Shefeelslike one.
I’ve often wondered how she didn’t go mad, shut up for all those years – first at Bartell Manor, then Harglade Hall. She was robbed of any kind of childhood because of something she did when she was barely a day old. I think of the cities I’ve seen, the courts I’ve visited. I think of the countless times I’ve walked into Valburn to do something as ordinary as buy a toffee apple, and I’m overcome with the urge to hug my sister.
‘Come on,’ I say, slinging an arm round her shoulder. ‘Let’s find some supper.’
We push into the heaving alehouse, the air hot from the oven fires and thick with drunken voices. Nobody gives us a second glance as we shove our way to an empty table. I toss the barmaid a piece of silver and she returns minutes later with two heaped plates and a flagon of wildfire wine. Ravenous, I fall on the food, pausing only to refill my glass.
Blaze drums her gloved fingers on the table, chewing thoughtfully.
‘What?’ I ask through a mouthful of guinea fowl.
‘I’m just trying to remember everything I’ve ever read about the Ridge tunnels.’
‘Well, make sure you do,’ I say, pointing a bone at her, ‘because, no pressure and all, but our lives depend on it.’
Blaze knocks the bone out of my hand with her fork. At that moment, a voice sounds close behind us.
‘… the Harglade twins, Flint and Blaze.’
We both freeze.
‘They survived, then?’
‘It would seem so.’
I allow myself an infinitesimal sigh of relief – we’re not being addressed, but rather discussed, and the group of Ignitia sharing a bowl of broth seem completely oblivious to the fact that the very people they’re talking about are sitting a mere five feet away.
‘I heard they’ve been moved to a safe house.’
Blaze makes to whisper something to me, but I tap a finger to my lips and lean back in my chair to listen to the rest of the conversation.
‘And what about the Crowned Council?’
‘They’re not crowned yet, though I imagine they’ll be summoned to the palace. Haldyn Castellion needs all the help he can get. By all accounts, the boy’s too soft. And then, of course, there’s his half-brother, who’s quite the opposite.’
‘Queenslayer,’ one man mutters venomously. ‘I heard he fled to Zafar.’
‘Well,Iheard he was spotted in a whorehouse in Katteran.’
My sister swallows, frowning slightly. I’ve been careful not to ask her too much about the Earth Cleaver and their … what? Alliance? Friendship? There seems to be no correct term for whatever strange connection exists between them. Blaze only told me what I needed to know about Fox Calloway Castellion and his part in all this. Yet despite what he saw with the Eye of the Past, his actions still proved fatal – to his father, to the Council, to my aunt, who I have still not allowed myself to grieve for. And though I’d never say it out loud, I’m glad he’s gone. The further away he is from my sister, the better.
‘Perhaps it was Prince Haldyn he meant to kill and not the emperor?’
‘Some believe they were working together – the Storm Weaver and the Earth Cleaver. That they planned to assassinate both the old Council and the new.’
Blaze makes a sound I can only describe as a squawk of rage. I shake my head in warning and reach over to top up her glass. I can still hardly believe that there are those out there who think she plotted to kill the Council – and withthe Earth Cleaver, no less.
Then again, sometimes I forget that Blaze is two people. To me, she is my twin, the girl who has a cat called Mouseand reads thousand-page history books for fun. But to them, she is an anomaly, athreat. She may be the rightful leader of the Aquatori, but that doesn’t mean she’s become any more trusted, or any less feared. Her transition to sovereignty is not going to be an easy one. She has avoided the subject for weeks. At first, I thought it was for my benefit, but now I’m not so sure. I think she’s scared. I think she focused so much on winning her crown that she forgot about wearing it.
‘Listen, only three people know what really happened at the Binding Ceremony. Perhaps what the Storm Weaver claims is true. But then again, perhaps it isn’t. There are many who believe it was she who attacked King Balen, and not the other way round.’
Blaze, who has just taken a large gulp of wine, lets it trickle slowly back out of her mouth and into the glass. I pat her arm sympathetically. I’d assumed, perhaps naively, that if she had Hal’s support, the people would accept her version of events. But these men are right – there are only three people who know exactly what happened that day. One is a monster, the second is exiled, and the third is sitting opposite me with a face like thunder.
Stony silence stretches on long after the men have paid up and left the alehouse.
Eventually, Blaze clears her throat. ‘So that was a bit of a kick in the teeth.’
