as they’d come, Madoc and Elias departed, racing out into the alley, to the streets that would lead to Headless Hill.
Four
Ash
WHEN ASH WAS younger, Char would steal her away from her tutors early. Leaving behind lessons on mathematics and letters, they would race down to the dock market in Igna, Kula’s capital. Food shortages had not yet become dire, and there were still vendors who sold luxuries like flaky pastries and cloud-soft cakes and—Ash and Char’s favorite—cacao.
One time, Char bought a paper sack filled with mango slices dipped in dark, creamy chocolate, and they played their favorite game while they ate.
“You could be a glassblower,” Char said, pointing at another vendor. “That’s what you can use your igneia for. You can create beads that will make Kula beautiful.”
“Or a baker!” Ash pointed syrup-sticky fingers at a booth, her belly full of richness. “I’ll use fire to turn dough into bread and cake.”
Char smiled. “It’s so easy to forget that there are wondrous things about fire energy.” Her smile faded. “It’s important to look for the beauty in igneia, Ash.”
These special moments always came after Char had had difficult training sessions or brutal arena matches. She wanted Ash to see beyond Ignitus’s future. She wanted Ash to want more.
And Ash did want more. She wanted her mother to smile. She wanted Tor to laugh. She wanted to not feel so alone.
When she danced, sometimes she got those things. But they never lasted, and she feared the moment when Kula would cease being beautiful forever.
That moment came as Ash stood on the blood-soaked arena sands, staring down at Char’s body. The broadsword protruded from her chest.
Ash couldn’t move. She heard the crowd shouting, someone distantly calling her name.
No, it wasn’t her name—it was a word. War.
Tor set upon her, his hands like vises on her arms. “Ash, Geoxus has declared war. Get behind me—I need to get you out of this arena.”
Awareness trickled into Ash’s mind. Tor’s eyes were bloodshot, his face rigid. Behind him, Kulan guards were charging into the fighting pit.
“Halt, Nikau!” they ordered. “Surrender!”
She wasn’t resisting them. She wasn’t moving at all. There was nothing she could do that would fix anything, nothing that would bring Char back.
She let the guards rip her from Tor’s hands and drag her out of the arena.
Ignitus’s dormant volcano palace was a dark maze of magma tunnels that connected rooms of polished obsidian, granite, and peridot—stones that were made from fire, and therefore impervious to Geoxus’s control. The air was thick with ashy smoke, which made it more difficult for the goddess of air to manipulate; there were no animals, no guard dogs or pets, to prevent Biotus from spying. Ash had heard visitors from other countries describe Ignitus’s palace as dank and eerie, but she found it lovely in the same way she loved igneia. It was something her god had made; she should hate it. But it was still hers too, part of her blood and her history she couldn’t ignore.
Ignitus’s guards hauled Ash to one of the palace’s highest floors. When they pulled her into a foyer, the opulence stunned her silent. The ceiling was several stories tall, with closed ivory doors leading to other rooms, and garnets, Ignitus’s signature gem, embedded in the molding along the floor. The walls were hardened panes of gold that reflected the light of the chandelier.
Stationed next to each door, Kulan guards stood armed with live flames in their palms. Secretaries moved in and out of a few rooms, their arms laden with scrolls and books. They eyed Ash as though she was an investment Ignitus was considering. Had they heard what had happened?
That question broke through Ash’s shock, and the bottom of her stomach dropped out.
She had interfered in an arena match. She had broken one of the rules of gladiator fights, the only things the gods held sacred. Geoxus had watched through the stones and declared war.
Ignitus was going to kill her. If she was lucky.
A vile tartness filled Ash’s mouth and she steeled herself against the urge to throw up. She should have run, Tor was right—but she couldn’t think, she could barely feel her own aching feet under her, and every blink brought back the image of her mother’s body speared through the chest.
One of the guards opened a door. Ash eyed the sliver of light that crept out.
“Touch nothing,” the guard said. “He will be here once he’s done with Geoxus.”