Five Dark Fates (Three Dark Crowns #4) - Kendare Blake Page 0,113

killed, it never would have gone this far, let me tell you.”

She sees the girls exchange a humoring glance. She may be the High Priestess, but they are of another age. And perhaps they are right. It is young women now who bleed upon the battlefield. Young women who will lead them, no matter which side prevails. There will be no more puppet queens.

“Why did you bother saving me?” she asks. “Why did you not leave this old relic to her fate?”

“There is certainly a case to be made that you earned that fate,” Bree says, brow arched. “But we love you, Luca. And we will still need you if we are to get past this madness. You may be old, but you are no relic.”

Luca takes Bree’s hand and squeezes it. There is still vital blood in her veins. The Goddess may yet have a role for her to play in the future of the island. Or they may be taking her through tunnels and darkened alleys, out of the temple and out of the capital, all the way out of Fennbirn’s story. After the life she has led, and all she has lost, Luca is surprised to find she will be happy either way.

When Genevieve rides her frothing horse directly into the castle, she nearly runs right over the top of her brother and cousin.

“Antonin! Lucian!” She looks from one frightened, exasperated face to the other, and notes that they are both carrying velvet bags. “What are those? Do you intend to steal from the Volroy and take to the road like common thieves?”

“Yes,” Antonin replies. “And so must you. Go now and take what you can. Thanks to the strategic thinking of Rho Murtra, our way back to Greavesdrake is cut off. We will be lucky to make it through the city and onto the road to Prynn.”

“You mean to abandon Greavesdrake? It is our home!”

“Greavesdrake will be burned out by day’s end,” Lucian snaps. “Have you seen the rebel numbers?”

“Have you seen our commander?” Genevieve counters. “And what about the Queen Crowned? No matter what happens we must remain with her.”

“Would you rather advise, or would you rather survive?” Antonin asks.

She sets her jaw stubbornly, and he approaches her horse to put his hand over hers on the reins.

“Sister. I know you would do what Natalia would do. And if Natalia were here, she would stay with Katharine. But she was blinded by that girl. Blinded to her faults. What she should have wanted was to live to fight another day. Come now, we have to hurry.”

Genevieve sits numb in the saddle. “You are too late. The mist has already made the battlefield. Queen Katharine is retreating here. She will be here within moments.”

“All the more reason for us to move swiftly.”

For a blink, Genevieve considers helping him onto the back of her horse. Galloping away and never looking back.

“Outside, our soldiers are fighting against naturalist beasts and war-gift-guided knives,” she says. “That they should be swallowed up and torn apart by the mist is—”

“Terrible,” Antonin whispers. “But there is nothing that we can do.”

Genevieve shakes her head. She tugs her hands gently away.

“Genevieve—”

“No. I cannot go. You are right, Antonin. The Arrons must survive. But at least one Arron must remain also with the queen.”

“Genevieve!” Lucian takes hold of her leg. “If the queen survives, we will return! But if the rebellion overtakes her . . . they may spare Bree Westwood and even old Luca, for love of the elemental. But we three, we will burn in the square!”

“Then I will burn.” Genevieve swings off the horse, her hands trembling. She is not brave by nature. Not like her sister. She hands Antonin the reins. “Take my mare. You will have a better chance on horseback.”

THE BATTLEFIELD

“Queen Arsinoe!”

She looks over her shoulder. Pietyr Renard is making his way to her. There is blood on his hands, and some on his shoulder, but otherwise he seems unharmed.

“You,” she says. “What are you doing here?” She cranes her neck to search around him, but Billy is nowhere in sight.

“He stayed behind,” Pietyr says, reading her expression. “He said he had his own business to take care of.”

“Not with Rho. Not with that Rho.”

“He knows. He knows; do not worry. He said he would remain, to help.”

“But not you.”

Pietyr smiles. “Not me.”

Arsinoe studies him a moment. He is panting and sweating. Outfitted in rebellion gear. She woke him from unconsciousness and probably saved him from a slow,