I wondered if this is how my mother had felt when she’d crossed the River and come into these lands. I wondered if she ever got very far.
Not for the first time had I thought of her while I was here, wondering if I’d ever turn the corner to see her.
But now that I was actually journeying toward the crown, I felt as if I were following her footsteps. Did she walk this way? Did she find the Queen’s vault?
Did she die here?
I’d taken to reading her journal every night, trying to glean some idea of the path she might’ve taken. If she crossed the Basrol River, she must have had a plan. I had to believe that.
And a part of me wondered if I was even here to really bring down the wall at all or if I only wanted to find the crown because that was the last thing my mother did, and this was the only way I might be able to find out what happened to her.
I’d clutched her journal to my chest every night since she’d left. I read her words, her collected songs, her letters over and over, trying to know her just a little more. I’d had so little time with her, and yet her journal gave me an insight into who she was as a person, as well as her fascination with the ancient fae.
The book I’d found about Queen Azari’s vault didn’t have many specific details about the crown in it. There had been mentions of how the crown might be protected by the ancient fae queen, but no one had seen it in hundreds of years, let alone been to the place where she’d locked it away.
The book did expand my knowledge on the different magic of each Court and the Court of River’s magic specifically. Much of the Court of River’s powers were concentrated on nature and life-based magic—power rooted in growth, plants, light, animals, blood, and anything from the living world.
Their magic had been sucked away by Salt, whose power traditionally was that of mimicry, absorption, and theft. They could steal another peri’s magic, normally to borrow it temporarily. But what the Viceroy was doing to the Court of River did not seem temporary, which must be a result to the fae crown that was melted into his chest.
We’d ridden out that morning, and after a few hours in the saddle I wished I’d asked for more breaks.
I rode behind the Viceroy on a creature that looked like a horse with metallic legs.
It rode so fast the forest around us passed by in a blur, the sound of its heavy hooves the only indication we were touching the ground at all.
Occasionally the Viceroy glanced back at me, as if to check I was still there. Or maybe he was still unsure of me.
He should be, given that I planned to steal the crown from him as soon as we found it.
But every time he looked over his shoulder, discomfort spread through me, like he was assessing me with every step, calculating which parts of me were worth more. It was eerie to feel like athingto someone.
As if I were a possession to be used and taken out when needed. A cog in the wheel, just like I had been for the Citadel.
Our company was surprisingly small. Even though Kiyan was tasked with finding the rebels, he traveled with us, and for some reason I kept thinking of him holding my naked body against him, striding through the palace. I had no memories of it, but I couldn’t help imagining it and feeling my face heat every time I shot a glance his way.
I had said goodbye to Mishah that morning, embracing her so tightly she’d laughed.
“You’ll see me when you come back.”
But I didn’t know if I would.
Ramishah had become a good friend in the palace, and the only one I really had. She visited my room daily, and we’d stayed up eating cakes she pilfered from the kitchen and drinking leftover wine from the feast late into the night.
I had told her about the relic we were looking for, and her eyes went wide.
She didn’t come to see us off, but instead packed a bag of all my favorites from the kitchen and stuffed it in my hands. “In case you miss me,” she whispered with a wink.
That had been only this morning, but now the sun was setting around us and we still rode, a collection of silvery blurs in the countryside.
Eventually the forest changed, becoming rougher, mountainous, less lush. I felt more than saw the Viceroy tense at the change in terrain. Kiyan rode ahead, his horse’s metallic legs tearing up the trail behind it.
“What is it?” I asked him, though I sensed he didn’t want to speak.
“Rebels are often sighted here,” he clipped back, scanning the area. The soldiers had grown tense too.
Kiyan rode back a few moments later and nodded at us.
“It’s safe ahead. We can make camp here.”
