Tariq’s body lay with Ariel’s.
‘Close your eyes, Quintana!’ Froi begged.
But she sank onto her knees, taking the two lifeless hands of Tariq and Ariel’s in hers and pressing them to her face. And she wept a pitiful cry from a place in her spirit so hopeless that Froi thought she’d will her own death.
Perabo placed a gentle hand on her arm.
‘It’s not safe here, Your Highness. We must go.’
But she refused to move and the keeper of the caves picked her up in the crook of his arm and dragged her away. Froi knew that he would remember her screams for days and years to come. Despite their pleas that she close her eyes, she looked into the face of every one of the Lascow dead and spoke their names out loud, until the gods took mercy on them all and broke her voice until she could speak no more.
Grijio, Olivier and Satch stayed for the first two days, but Grijio was desperate to return to his father.
‘He’ll tear himself apart with worry,’ the lastborn said. ‘I will speak on Quintana’s behalf and pray that he’ll give her sanctuary.’
They looked over to where she lay on the bed, facing the wall.
‘And you?’ Olivier asked Froi.
‘I’ll return home.’
‘Then at least travel with us part of the way,’ Grijio said.
Froi shook his head. ‘My weapons are hidden in a cave near the bottom of the gravina. They’re all I own.’
Grijio nodded and held out a hand. Froi shook it. He turned to Olivier.
‘Were you treated well in captivity?’
Olivier was silent a moment. Then he nodded.
‘I’m going to join Lascow’s army,’ Olivier said. ‘I know they are gathering one for Tariq.’
‘B … b … but you don’t know how to fight,’ Satch said.
‘The days of keeping the lastborns weak and safe are over,’ Olivier said fiercely. ‘I’m going to be the best fighter they’ve ever seen.’
Froi held out his hand to Olivier and the lastborn shook it firmly. Then Satch’s.
‘If Gr … Gr … Grij’s father does not t … t … take her to P … P … Paladozza, I’ll speak to my people in Desantos.’
‘If not, keep her safe, Froi,’ Grijio said, solemnly.
He missed them the moment they left, and the days that followed were long. Froi spent his time playing silent card games with Perabo and listening to the wind howl. It was a sound he had not heard before and at times he felt as though the gods were wailing with fury. Perabo said more than once that it was as though they were heralding the end of time.
Quintana’s silence was the most frightening. It had been four weeks since the King’s death and she had experienced more during that time than another would in an entire life.
‘Where will you take her?’ Perabo asked quietly one night.
Froi had no idea how to answer the question.
‘I need to find Arjuro of Abroi first. And Lirah of Serker. I think they’re both staying at an inn near the bridge. I need to get them all out of the Citavita.’
Perabo looked down to where Quintana lay.
‘I don’t care what you’ve done to save her,’ he said bitterly. ‘I would have had her halfway across this kingdom if not for your deceit.’
Days later, when the winds finally died, Froi shook her out of her stupor and helped her up.
Without a word, Perabo went to a basket beneath his cot and pulled out some clothes, handing them to Froi. Froi helped Quintana dress in the man’s garments. He grabbed the knotted mass of her hair and stuffed it inside his cap. He took the coat Perabo held out and placed it around her, fastening it all the way to her bruised throat.
‘Head down,’ Froi ordered gently.
Perabo stood on a stool and pushed the stone away from the ceiling. When he gave the signal and stood aside, Froi lifted himself out, holding a hand down to Quintana. She grasped it. Froi pulled her out of the cave house and, not letting go of her hand, he led her across the roofs of the caves.
When they reached the centre of the Citavita he felt her shudder, saw the hanging gale perched high on its platform. The moment the winds had died, it seemed as though every Citavitan was determined to leave. Froi had never seen so many people in the one place, shoving their way through to the road that led down towards the bridge. He placed an arm around Quintana, holding her close to him, tenderly pressing a kiss to her capped head. They were jostled, elbows shoving against them, their bodies wedged between the crowd. And then Quintana looked up at him and Froi would remember that look for a long time to come. Betrayal. Hurt. Sadness.
And before he knew it, before he could stop her, Quintana let go of his hand and suddenly the crowd swallowed her. He went to shout her name, but knew that it would alert those around him to discover who was in their midst. He shoved his way through the crowd trying to catch a glimpse of her, but everyone looked the same in their greys and their browns and he wished for the awful pink dress so he could find her, protect her. But the crowd surged forward down the Citavita walls and Quintana disappeared with it, leaving an emptiness inside Froi that he could barely comprehend.
He went searching for Lirah at the inn by the bridge, but found only Arjuro.
Arjuro ushered him into the miniscule chamber. It was almost as if they were charging for broom closets these days.
‘Is it true? About Tariq of Lascow?’ Arjuro asked, his voice ragged with emotion.
Froi nodded. ‘Where’s Lirah?’
‘Next door.’
Froi left the room and knocked on the door adjacent, but there was no answer.
‘Lirah,’ he whispered, not wanting anyone to make the link between their guest and Lirah, the King’s Serker whore.
‘It’s Froi,’ he said. ‘I need to speak to you.’
But there was no answer.
‘She’s not there.’
Froi spun around to see Gargarin leaning on the banister, holding his staff in one hand and a crutch under his other arm. His face was so drawn that it made Froi want to look away.
‘What do you mean she’s not here?’
‘She’s left. Gone. Don’t ask me where.’
Froi was stunned. ‘Gone?’ he asked. ‘I need to speak to her. Gone where?’
‘I said I don’t know. According to the innkeeper, she left not even an hour ago. For all I know, she’s probably halfway across the bridge by now.’
‘No,’ Froi said, pushing past Gargarin. ‘It’s too crowded. She would never have got across this last hour.’
Froi ran down the stairs and outside to where the stream of people passed the entrance of the inn. He tried to push through towards the bridge, but was shoved back.
‘Wait your turn,’ a man shouted.
Froi was desperate. He looked around and up to the roof. The stone of the inn was too flat to climb, so he pushed his way back inside and took the steps, two at a time. Gargarin was still there and Froi ignored him, grabbing a stool to stand on and reaching up to where there was a ceiling hatch. He shoved the stone away and climbed onto the roof where he spent the rest of the day, searching the crowd below for any sign of Lirah. He could see the queue all the way up the Citavita wall to the palace, but he was determined not to move until every last one of them passed him by. Arjuro joined him and they sat in silence, and then they heard Gargarin struggling through the hatch to join them. After hearing him suffer for some time, Arjuro stood and walked to the opening and dragged Gargarin up through the hole.
‘They’re idiots for leaving,’ Froi said, pointing to the people below, when Gargarin was settled beside them. ‘Do they think it’s any better out there?’
Neither of the brothers spoke. Froi leapt to his feet when he thought he saw a woman with Lirah’s rich long
