‘Your brother wouldn’t do such a thing,’ chided Maylie, following.
They wandered across the mountainside together, joining one of the trodden paths that led to the village. Ahead, a scatter of glowing lights beckoned them onwards.
‘Mam, if you love the mountains so much, why did you ever leave them in the first place?’ asked Gredie as they approached Silicia’s main square.
Maylie sighed. ‘You’re right. I didn’t fit there. I were young and foolish to go in the first place.’
‘Did you go alone?’
Maylie sucked in her breath. ‘No,’ she said.
They climbed the steep path through the clutter of cottages to the top of the village.
‘Did you—’
‘Go on inside now, Gredie,’ said Maylie. ‘I’ll be a moment longer. I need to check on the animals.’
Gredie paused, as though he might ask more, but he shoved his hands into his pockets and sloped away. ‘Don’t be long, Mam,’ he called.
Maylie tucked her shawl more tightly around her shoulders. Thesun had dropped below the mountain tops and the air had become dark and chilled. Soon the days would be full of bright, whitish light and the evenings would be long and warm. Maylie welcomed the end of the long winter, but the arrival of spring was always bittersweet. It brought with it the Maiden Sacrifice.
With her trug hooked over her arm, Maylie shut the henhouse and walked the perimeter of their cottage. All was as it should be and she knew she ought to head inside for dinner, but she lingered. She always felt tender as the Maiden Sacrifice approached, her days full of regret and remorse. She did not like to be around anyone, not even her family. It was difficult to behave normally. But she must remember that in just four days it would be over. Sticky buds would bloom on the trees, the mountains would echo with birdsong and another girl would be chosen. Then it would be finished. Time would slide onwards and spring would become summer.
With a sigh, Maylie walked towards the cottage door. She must not keep her family waiting any longer; no doubt her boys were already bickering and tussling, desperate to eat.
Maylie had her fingers on the handle of the front door when she felt an itch at the back of her neck. A familiar feeling of unease.
She paused and turned. Her gaze skittered up the darkening mountainside, over the scrubby ground and the winding stream to the forest. She squinted.
Something flitted through the trees. She stared, her eyes watering.
It was the silver shadow again.
Maylie stood, her senses hissing and snapping. She had not been mistaken earlier; she was being watched and followed.
The shadow darted with impossible grace behind a cluster of knotted tree trunks and disappeared.
Then all was still once more.
Maylie tasted a bitter tang in her mouth and the tips of her fingers tingled.
She had not felt these sensations since her girlhood – not since she left the mountains for Tormale all those winters ago.
It must mean something. Perhaps it was a sign or a warning.
Maylie thought of the Maiden Sacrifice once more and shivered. But it could not be that. Surely it could not happen again.
THREE DAYS BEFORE THE 300TH MAIDEN SACRIFICE
Cressyda
SHE STOOD BEFOREone of the guest rooms in the King’s chambers, watching physicians gust in and out of the door, their footsteps making light taps in the dark stillness. It was early morning and bright outside, but all the windows here were covered with black silk and, except for this room, everywhere was deserted. No hunting dogs flopped before the fireplaces. No councilmen knotted in corners, discussing Calestran politics. No squires jostled and guffawed together in the corridors. The King’s chambers were mourning the loss of Borto Donolaino. And awaiting the arrival of their new King.
‘You wished to see Master Jakespurcia, Princess?’
Cressyda’s head snapped up to see Pataso, one of the Master apprentices, approaching her. He was a short, rounded young man with gold rings stacked on his fingers. She had heard someone mention that he would most likely be chosen as the next Royal Master.
‘I wish to pay my respects,’ replied Cressyda. She did not add ‘before he dies’. It was well known at court that Master Jakespurcia’shealth had been declining recently, almost as rapidly as King Borto’s. Not even all the magical learning in the realm could make you immortal.
