“Are you ready?” Bair’s voice cut through my thoughts. I couldn’t very well steal a golden key off Ghassan’s wrist in plain view of Bair, not without drawing attention to my magic.
“Yes, I’m ready.”
I fixed Safiyya’s cloak, making sure to cover my hair again, and we hoisted the body up and out of the house, heading in the direction of the woods. My mind was spinning, thinking of all the possibilities of why Ghassan would have a golden key his wrist, and what it could open. I hadn’t looked at the key closely but I’d seen enough fae relics to recognize one the minute I saw one.
And I was betting whoever destroyed his house was looking for it.
And was the reason Ghassan was dead.
I was so engrossed in my thoughts that I didn’t notice we’d already made it to the main street and almost stopped short at how different it was.
Before, the streets were empty, but now people lined the cobblestone walkway, as if they knew we were coming, as if they had waited for us.
Some held each other’s hands, others sang songs so softly you couldn’t even hear the words, just a rush of gentle whispers. Some of them even held jasmine flowers in front of them, the traditional flower of the dead.
A normal funeral procession would have the streets filled with jasmine petals, so that the dead would have the scent of the flowers to guide their way to the afterlife and they wouldn’t be forced to become ghouls, trapped in our world.
But all public gatherings were banned after the last uprising—we could no longer honor our dead, could no longer gather together to perform our rituals.
Until now.
“Why are they risking it?” I hissed to Bair. “The Citadel could find out.”
“Ghassan was loved. When he worked for the Citadel, he often gave away his extra ration to others who needed it more,” whispered Bair, his voice holding all the awe I felt.
I clutched the stretcher poles tight in my hands, trying to walk as quickly as I could and avoid meeting the gaze of any villagers. My eyes burned with the simple act of love they’d shown and something else.
Shame.
They wouldn’t suspect it was me holding Ghassan’s body, not with my work with the Citadel.
But if they did see, if they did suspect me, I knew what they would shout.
Ghassanis dead, and you helped put him there.
Chapter 4
It was hard to be without you today. The river ran red with peri blood, and still he keeps me on this leash. I never know when I will be plunging a thorn into the heart of someone I used to break bread with, laugh with, love.
But these days, it’s more likely I know them than not.
—Letter from Kiyan to his family, unsent
Kiyan
I studied the gold ring the boy had given me in the firelight. It had been a long time since I’d read the ancient language of the River Court on something other than a scroll about to be burned.
Return me to the River.
What did it mean? Did it have anything to do with the ancient Queen’s crown?
After years of searching for anything that could help me, I couldn’t help but think this was all a convenient trick. If I returned the ring to the River, if I listened to the Churail, would it get me ever closer to freeing my family? Especially when the crown had been lost for over a thousand years—ever since the border preventing access to the human lands was erected.
I frowned, holding the ring up to the light. The dead Queen’s crown might be enough to break the powers that Salt Court had, but if it ended up in the Viceroy’s hands, it would also solidify their rule over us completely.
Leaning back in my chair, I massaged my temples, puzzling out my options.
I still didn’t know who the churail was who had given the boy the ring, and how the witch knew so much about me.
