Five Dark Fates (Three Dark Crowns #4) - Kendare Blake Page 0,124

change.

In the quiet streets of the early-morning capital, Arsinoe and Jules walk together as they often do, getting away from the bustle. They must go early before there is anyone to share the pavement with. Since Jules lost her leg, Camden refuses go ahead or behind. She insists on being pressed to Jules’s side.

“You’re getting pretty good with that crutch,” Arsinoe says.

“I had been using this leg less anyway. It was never quite the same after I ate all that poison.”

They meander down to the harbor and head north along the docks full of ships. The boats still stay close, not venturing out of the island’s sight, but soon enough the fishers will brave the deeper waters, and traders will dare to find the mainland.

As they walk, they look up to the northern cliffs, where a tall flame burns, surrounded by polished black stones and fresh flowers. A memorial to Mirabella. On the roof of the West Tower, a similar flame burns for Katharine.

Arsinoe reaches down and scratches Camden between the ears. She misses Braddock. She has not seen him since she went to the Black Cottage shortly after the battle. He was still there, with Willa, and there he will remain until Willa believes what they say about the queens and formally leaves her post.

“Who are you going to leave in charge while you’re away?” Arsinoe asks. “Luca?”

“Why? Because she’s the oldest?”

Arsinoe chuckles. Mirabella’s friends, Bree and Elizabeth, returned to the capital with the High Priestess a week ago.

“No. Because she’s the most widely liked.”

“She tried to kill you, remember,” says Jules. “With that plot during the Quickening.”

“But she didn’t.”

Jules frowns. Then her expression clears, and she shrugs.

“Well, anyway, I asked her for advice, and she wouldn’t give it. She wants to remain with the temple. She wants to stay near Bree and Elizabeth. And I think that’s all she wants.”

“So many changes.”

“And more to come. Emilia means to travel to every city with Mathilde to hear what the people say. Or she might just send Mathilde.”

“She doesn’t want to leave you.”

Jules shrugs again and blushes.

“How are you two?” Arsinoe asks. “Are things . . . ?”

“I’m not going to be marrying any mainlanders, if that’s what you mean.” Jules takes a deep breath and stops walking, hopping slightly to readjust her crutch. “I won’t really be a queen, you know. It’s all going to be different. You’ll see.”

“Will you live in the capital, when we get back?”

“I don’t know. I’d like to go home to Wolf Spring. Emilia didn’t want to abandon Indrid Down to its own so soon, but she or Mathilde will always be here. And I want to be near Fenn and Luke. Matthew and Caragh.”

“Maybe you could lure Braddock down to live in the fields near the house?” Arsinoe asks.

They reach the end of the docks and turn back. They may pop into the inn on the corner for a few soft-boiled eggs and some fresh warm bread, like they sometimes do. Or stroll through the market and watch the merchants polish their wares. Above them, the tall black spires of the Volroy stretch into the sky, not a monster anymore casting a wicked shadow but only a building, and Indrid Down is only a city rather than a nest of enemies.

“Will you come with me to the square?” Jules asks.

“Not this morning. I told someone I would help them with something.”

“Queen Arsinoe still has her secrets.”

Arsinoe laughs. She gives Camden a pat on the haunches and slips away, down side streets and through alleys until she is back at the Volroy gates. The boy waiting for her steps out of the shadows. He does not raise a hand in greeting. He does not even take his hands out of his pockets.

She joins him without a word, and they make their way through the quiet castle, up and up and up the stairs of the West Tower.

“Are you sure you’re ready to do this?” Arsinoe asks, and in answer, Pietyr takes a breath and takes the last of the steps by two, out onto the roof.

It is his first visit to Katharine’s memorial. The priestesses who tend it have been dutiful, the ring of black stones laid out with care and the wreaths of poisoned berries and blossoms fresh. Someone has even left a live scorpion in a jar.

“Her flame burns high,” Pietyr says, and Arsinoe looks to the north.

From up there, so high above the city, Mirabella’s and Katharine’s flames do not seem