Five Dark Fates (Three Dark Crowns #4) - Kendare Blake Page 0,62
a long time on tiptoe, Jules has climbed up to stand on the haunches of her black gelding, peering toward the city with her hands shaded over her eyes. “Why haven’t they returned?”
“Maybe they thought it best to wait for the crowds to clear,” Arsinoe says.
“They must have seen the smoke,” Emilia says. “We sent the signal up as long as we dared.”
Camden leaps onto the gelding’s back beside Jules, her claws digging into the saddle leather. The horse snorts, and Arsinoe pats his nose fondly. He may have chased her down so Katharine could shoot a bolt into her back, but he was also the one who carried her and Jules to safety afterward.
Jules looks to the city, then back to Mathilde, as if the seer might have new answers.
“I should be there. I should have gone with them.”
“But you are not there, and you are not going.” Emilia slaps at Jules’s ankle. “Get down.”
After a moment, Jules relents, and slides down the gelding’s flank.
Down in the capital, tendrils of smoke rise from chimneys, and the hated towers of the Volroy obscure the sky. As she stares at the city, Arsinoe wills Billy and the others to ride out of it, to emerge over the sloping hill.
“I’ll go,” Arsinoe says. “Jules always has bad feelings about things, and she always thinks she should be there, but this time she’s right. I’m going to get Billy and the others out.”
“No.” Emilia’s fingers dig into her arm. “Not you. These are my warriors. My friends. You’ve put them in danger as you’ve put Jules in danger, and you are a fool to think you will be any use in rescuing them.”
“Your warriors,” Arsinoe says. “Don’t you mean the rebellion’s? Don’t you mean the Legion Queen’s?”
Emilia raises her fist, but Jules takes her hand and pulls it down.
“Enough of this,” Jules says. “Neither of you is going anywhere. We’ll give them until nightfall.” She looks between Arsinoe and Emilia, clearly more angry at one than the other, but in the end, it is Emilia whose shoulder she touches. “Go back to the others and tell them we’re waiting.”
Emilia goes, eyes flashing as she passes Arsinoe.
“They will return,” says Mathilde, and Arsinoe and Jules turn to see the oracle crouched in the crusted snow. She has lit a bundle of herbs and blown it out to scry through the smoke. “They will return,” she says again, in a voice that is not exactly hers but the voice of the visions. “They will. But not all.”
THE VOLROY
That evening, Katharine sits with Genevieve in her room, trying to relax with a glass of Natalia’s tainted brandy and Pietyr’s favorite hemlock biscuits.
“Today was a resounding success. Everyone has said so. Even Cousin Lucian. Turnout was higher than expected, and barely a scrap was left over from the feast. We had not hoped to see the capital so happy again until after the rebellion was over. I cannot wait for word of the alliance to reach Sunpool. The trickle of deserters will strengthen to a stream. Katharine, are you listening?”
Genevieve prods her in the arm.
“I was not,” Katharine admits. She takes a bite of the baked hemlock biscuit she has been holding in her fingers and wipes at the corner of her mouth with her napkin.
“I thought you would be pleased. There were even some children seen, playing near the shore. Having Mirabella here has soothed their fears. Is that not what you wanted?”
“It is.”
“But?”
Katharine stands and worries the biscuit between her fingers until crumbs cascade down the front of her dress. “I was ready to hate her. Even though she came as an ally. You know this.”
“Yes. I know this.”
“But she is so steady! She has a . . . certain quality. Almost like Natalia had, and since she has been here, I feel less alone.”
Genevieve leans back on her elbow. “What of the suitor in the cells? Was he here to rescue her? To contact her for information?”
“I do not know. And even if he was, there is no way to know whether she was involved in the plot.”
“You want her to be innocent.” Genevieve sets down her pen. She comes to Katharine’s side and cocks her head sympathetically. “You want to trust her for the sake of the triplets.”
And perhaps, for the love of a sister. But Katharine does not dare say so. Genevieve would scorn her, and the dead queens lie inside, coiled and listening.