Song of Dragons The Complete Trilogy - By Daniel Arenson Page 0,233

my Gloriae.

She smiled at her daughter, and Gloriae smiled back, the rarest of smiles. She has a beautiful smile, a smile like sunlight on snow.

"And now, daughter," Lacrimosa said, "we will build an army."

AGNUS DEI

They entered King's Forest at dawn, five days after leaving their mountain ruins, and Agnus Dei's throat tightened.

"The hall of Requiem's kings," she whispered.

Kyrie took her hand. They stood on a hill and gazed silently upon the ruins. Dead, burned trees lay covered with snow. Requiem's palace lay fallen between them, the palace where Father had once ruled. It had once boasted a hundred columns. They lay smashed now, buried in snow. Only one still stood, two hundred feet tall, its capital shaped as bucking dragons. It rose from the ruins into sunbeams, kissed with light, its marble brighter than the snow.

"King's Column," Agnus Dei said, voice soft. "That is what it's called. They say even Dies Irae himself, atop his griffin Volucris, could not topple it. They say it is star blessed. I thought it a legend."

Kyrie nodded. "It won't fall so long as there are living Vir Requis. While it stands, there is hope for Requiem."

Agnus Dei lit her torch. "Let's move carefully. We might find statues in the ruins. We might also find mimics."

Kyrie lit his torch too, and they walked downhill toward the palace ruins. The snow glittered under the dawn like a field of stars. It was quiet. Agnus Dei heard only a soft wind, the crackle of their torches, and the crunch of snow under their boots. Lumps rose under the snow. Agnus Dei and Kyrie began brushing snow aside, searching. They found many bricks, fallen blades, a broken lance, a shield, the skeletons of men, and even a griffin's skeleton. They found statues too, but they were smashed: a marble head here, an arm there, pedestals with feet still attached, but no more.

"Do you think we can repair them?" Agnus Dei asked. She lifted a statue's hand, twice the size of her own, and held it.

"With what?" Kyrie said, his clothes white with snow. "We have no tools."

Agnus Dei sighed. It seemed hopeless. Some of the war's largest battles had been fought here. Everything here was smashed, aside from King's Column.

She turned to look at the pillar. It towered above her, so wide three men could not hug it. Scenes of flying dragons were engraved into the marble. Agnus Dei walked toward the column and touched the stone. It was cold, colder than ice; she could feel that even through her gloves. She ran her fingers over old words carved into the marble. Requiem! May our wings forever find your sky.

"King Aeternum built this column," she told Kyrie. "He was the first of our line, and among the greatest kings, Father would say. Father was descended from him, did you know? Aeternum ruled seventy-four generations before Father, and his line ruled continuously until the war." She swallowed.

Kyrie put an arm around her. "The line still stands. You are descended from Aeternum too. When you or Gloriae are crowned, you will be the seventy-seventh monarch of Aeternum's house."

She raised an eyebrow. "Me or Gloriae—queens? Pup, we are fighters. Survivors. We are no queens. What is there to rule here?" She swept her arms around her. "Nothing remains."

Kyrie jutted his chin toward King's Column. "That remains. Aeternum's pillar. And we remain, don't we? You and I. Your mother and sister. Lacrimosa is our queen; this is her pillar now, her place to rule. And after her, you and Gloriae will rule."

Agnus Dei laughed and pinched his cheek. "Pup, you'd hate me as your queen. If you think I'm bossy now, you'd be running to the hills then. And if Gloriae is queen, I think you'd hate that enough to jump off a cliff."

He grinned. "Maybe you're right. I think a rebellion is in order. I think it might be time for Kyrie Eleison to take power." He laughed, then sighed and took a deep breath. "You're right, kitten. There's not much left here, and not much point for queens, and kings, and palaces. But I like talking about it. It makes me feel like... like it's honoring old Aeternum, if he's watching from the Draco stars. And I feel like we're honoring Benedictus too. When we remember their prayers, their customs, and their lines of power, we're keeping their memory alive. We're carrying their torch. Even if Requiem lies in ruin, and we can never rebuild her, I'll keep carrying this