"After a few months of careful diplomacy, yes." Lady Ethna gestured down the dark walkways, toward a group of the town's natives. Bright pale skin covered with tattoos caught my eye, belonging to three young women walking home together. Judging from their unbalanced steps, they'd had a merry night.
They spoke amongst themselves, but I couldn't understand a word of their language. It was light, melodic, too quick for me to discern where one word ended and the next began.
"It took time to learn their language," Ethna continued. "We convinced them our numbers would be a boon should Forlaith arrive at their walls. They agreed, so long as we did not attempt to usurp their ways."
I eyed the thin silk covering the women's breasts and loins. Even prostitutes back home wore more than the people of the Shadowlands. Men included. A pair joined the women, broad chests bare, legs covered by short pants.
Ethna interpreted my silence as judgment. "The paint of their skins is no mere decoration. It tells the stories of their lives: every loss, every success."
"It's beautiful," I said honestly, studying the bird painted across one man's back. Ethna turned away, and I scurried after her. Ducking under a willow, I frowned at her black feather mantle, because I couldn't bear to look at her face. "But why areyouhere?"
Ethna stepped up onto a wooden walkway and dropped her gown. “Because of Forlaith,” she said. “Just before you were born, they set their sights on Aenir. You know this.” Lifting her lantern, she guided me down a quiet pathway between dark homes. “I fought King Ailithir every step of the way. He wanted to surrender. I did not.”
“We never would have survived a prolonged siege against Forlaith,” I said, folding my arms. “He did the right thing.”
“Did he?” Ethna stopped, leaning in to meet my eye. “Before Forlaith took Aenir, we worshiped the saints freely. Women took up bows to defend their homes. They could marry another woman if they so wished. To surrender was to give up everything our peoplewere.”
I’d never known a world with such freedoms. The priests of Solathair forbid it. “So you fled,” I said.
“As a last resort. When it became clear we could not win with steel or words.” Ethna turned and kept walking. We passed an orchard of strange trees bearing pale pink fruits. I stared at them, instead of her. “Our Paragon proposed to us a plan. We took the risk.”
“Killian?”
“His predecessor.” Ethna corrected. She stopped, holding up the lantern to illuminate Cierthine. “With that blade, he cleaved the very heavens, opening a passage for us to walk—from Tirnanog’s streets, to Aeourant’s.”
Releasing Cierthine’s hilt, I looked down at my blade. “I don’t understand.”
“Seoras was no ordinary man.” Her eyes flicked up, trying to meet mine. “He was a Diath.”
So, Brighid had been right. A Diath had caused the storm keeping Tirnanog locked away. A Diath was capable of tearing the very fabric of reality—and she thought I was one?
“You know that word?” Ethna lifted her chin.
I ignored her. “So . . . so you fled here. And then you decide to wage war, three decades later?”
Lowering her lantern, Ethna turned away, slowing her pace. “Initially, we wanted only freedom. Peace. But Forlaith’s Emperor Andreas began acting strangely. He was obsessed with fulfilling their religious prophecy, with conquering the darklands in his lifetime. Should they bring an army over the walls . . . we would not be able to defend ourselves.”
“But you killed him.” I quickened my pace, fire rushing through my veins. “So why slaughter so many innocents, years after the fact?”
Ethna’s voice sharpened. “Many of our people grew a taste for bloodshed. They believed the assassination proved we could wage war from the shadows. That we could do more than hide.” She halted again, at a dead-end overlooking the silent wetlands. “We could overthrow Forlaith.”
Longing danced in her words. She wanted it—yearned for it.
Staggering back, I leaned against the walkway's low railing. Everything made sense. The rebels had attacked Muirashi, perhaps because they did not want to slaughter their old countrymen. Muirashi was most aligned with the Empire—and the first force Forlaith would send to attack beyond the wall.
Gain a foothold there, and they could push forward with a devastating army of dragons and wraiths.
Raising my head, I stared at my mother. “The people of Tirnanog—they all went along with this?”
She turned her head, and I saw her hesitate. “No, of course not. Many wanted to join Forlaith. Many more were terrified of what would happen to them and their loved ones if the Empire marched into our streets and overturned our laws.” She raised her eyes slowly. “We did not give them a choice. They could walk through the path Seoras created, or they could stay in the city and die.”
My throat tightened. Swallowing, I looked down.
“Why, then,” I asked. “Did you leave me behind?”
“Oh, Mare.” Ethna tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “Your father supported Ailithir. Supported Forlaith. And what I was doing was so dangerous. Where we were headed was . . . ” She swept her arm around, eyes glistening with nostalgia. “But despite our differences, I knew he would be so in love with you. That he could spend all the time in the world withyou. Time I wouldn’t have. I thought, maybe, I could come back for you, once the danger had passed . . . ”
Nothing. I felt nothing. Pain should have wracked my chest, agony from my broken heart. Tears should have welled in my eyes and burst like a dam.
