Quintana of Charyn

‘Orlanda made it clear she would not protect her,’ Froi said, referring to the Provincara of Jidia.

‘Regardless, if Orlanda’s hand is forced, she will protect the future King.’

‘What of De Lancey? Quintana went searching for Lirah that time in the Citavita. Maybe she returned to Paladozza.’

‘I’ve written to De Lancey. Let’s hope he responds with the news we want to hear.’

‘Arjuro –’

‘It’s all I know. Don’t ask me again!’

Chapter 3

The hammering on Lucian’s cottage door woke him with a start.

‘Lucian! Lucian!’

The voices belonged to Lady Beatriss and Tesadora, he thought, stumbling from his bed. Something had happened to Yata. He felt the all-too-familiar taste of bile fill his mouth as his mind raced with images of the worst.

But Yata was there the moment Lucian opened the door, his relief cut short when he saw the looks on all three faces.

‘Vestie’s gone!’

‘Taken from her bed, Lucian!’

He grabbed his coat and ushered them out the door and he felt the sharp slap of wind against his cheeks. Winter was out-staying its welcome for yet another day. He had never known it to drag so long.

‘One at a time,’ he ordered as they travelled the path down to Yata’s home. ‘And everyone calm down! No one on this mountain would hurt Vestie, so there has to be an explanation.’

Lady Beatriss nodded and tried to do as she was told, taking a deep breath that sounded more like a ragged sob.

‘I woke up and her bed was empty and then I woke Tesadora and we searched Yata’s house. Nothing.’

‘The door was unlatched,’ Tesadora continued. ‘From the inside.’

They reached Yata’s compound, which sat at the centre of the mountain, and Lucian hurried to the bell in the courtyard. It had only been rung once since their return, after the younger lads broke into the cellars and got drunk. It was unlike the bell that Isaboe had insisted be placed on the mountain halfway to Lumatere. That one was a means of alerting the guards stationed there that something was wrong on the Charyn border; Yata’s bell could only be heard throughout the mountain village. Lucian rang it long and loud until the Monts emerged from their cottages, even from as far up as the slopes to the east.

Lucian’s eyes met Tesadora’s. She wasn’t one for dramatics, but she looked pale and he knew that Vestie of the Flatlands was precious to her. Very few people found a place in Tesadora’s heart. Finnikin spoke often about the love between Tesadora and Isaboe. Letters were exchanged between the two each week and it wasn’t rare to see Tesadora laughing as she read her correspondence. Both Isaboe and Tesadora’s bond with Vestie was strong because they had walked the sleep together during the curse. Lucian could not fathom the thought of what would happen if Vestie was hurt.

‘She could have responded to a knock,’ Lucian said.

Tesadora and Beatriss shook her head.

‘We would have heard it,’ Yata said. ‘There was no knock.’

By now a crowd had gathered around them, calling out questions, realising this was no drunken foolery by the younger lads.

Lucian settled them down, knowing their silence would be short-lived the moment he spoke the words, ‘Vestie is gone.’ And short-lived it was. Questions were shouted at him from all directions, the women crying out their fear as they surrounded Beatriss, alarming her even more. Worst were Jory and the lads, whipped into a frenzy of fury. Jory’s response to Phaedra’s death had been anger. The lad wasn’t aware that it was grief he was feeling, and perhaps Lucian and the Monts had not realised until these past weeks that Jory was no longer a boy.

‘Stop!’ Lucian ordered above the noise. He pointed a finger at the lads who were the last to obey. He waited for silence again. ‘Everyone search around your homes. Jory, ride down towards the valley and ask the cottagers to start searching the middle mountain. You lot,’ he said, pointing to his younger cousins, ‘check the woods. Knock on every door. Juno, take your lads and head towards Balconio.’

Lucian turned to Lady Beatriss. ‘Maybe she woke up feeling lost and is trying to make her way home?’

Lady Beatriss shook her head and he could see she was holding back tears.

‘There is an explanation, Lady Beatriss. You know that. It’s what Trevanion would tell you if he were here.’

All morning, Vestie’s name rang throughout the mountain. Every cottage was searched, every footstep traced, every shrine to the Goddess filled with garlands. Lucian knew of Vestie’s gift for walking the sleep, but he had never known anyone to become so lost in the dream that it took them from their beds.

And then, midmorning, Jory returned, his face pale, clutching a mitten in his hand. Lady Beatriss took it and held it to her face, weeping.

‘She has to be in the valley, Lucian,’ Jory said. ‘It’s the only explanation.’

Lucian caught his breath. It had been weeks since Phaedra’s death and he had only made the journey to the valley twice. At night, in a panic, he would wake up afraid he had abandoned Phaedra’s companions to the mercy of the cutthroat camp leader, Donashe, and his men. No matter how many times he reminded himself that the valley dwellers were not his people, Lucian felt a fierce sense of guilt.

‘We should have had our sentinels down in the valley,’ Tesadora said, her voice blunt and accusing.

‘But we don’t,’ Lucian argued. He had used the threat of the plague as a reason to stop sending down the lads, but he knew there was no such danger anymore. He looked around at those waiting for the next order. ‘Lady Beatriss, you wait –’

‘Don’t ask me to do that, Lucian. I’m coming with you.’

He didn’t even attempt to instruct Tesadora. She was coming down to the valley whether Lucian liked it or not.

‘Yata,’ he sighed. ‘Go back to the house, in case Vestie returns. Jory and Yael, come with me. Everyone else, stay.’

When they reached the bottom of the mountain, Lucian did what he always did: asked his father for guidance. What would Saro do? Cross the stream and accuse the Charynites of taking a Lumateran child, after all the valley dwellers had endured with the death of five of their women and the slaughter of Rafuel’s men? Would Lucian ask for help from the murderous camp leaders, or would he accuse them of taking Vestie? Could he trust Rafuel, who now seemed a stranger to them? At the campsite on the Lumateran side of the valley where Tesadora had once camped with her girls, he dared to look through the trees in the hope of catching a glimpse of his wife crossing the stream.

That’s why you haven’t returned here, Lucian. Because you see her everywhere.

‘Jory, you cross the stream and see what you can find out. They’ll trust you. Remember, no accusations. I don’t care what the camp leaders say, we cannot have Kasabian and the others thinking we believe they hurt one of our own.

‘Yael, you watch Jory from one of the trees and holler for me the moment there’s trouble. Lady Beatriss, Tesadora and I will continue down this side of the stream and see what we can find. We’ll meet you back here.’

As they travelled further downstream he could see Phaedra’s people in their caves through the copse of trees.

‘She would never have come this far,’ Beatriss said when they were deep within the woods. ‘Perhaps … perhaps she tried to cross the stream. The ice is beginning to melt on the mountain and the force of it could have