Quintana of Charyn

we’re going to have to kill that piece-of-nothing girl, Ginny.’ And as long as Phaedra would live, she’d never forgive herself for not cutting the girl from ear to ear.

And then Donashe and his men dragged them out of the cave and forced them to their knees except for Quintana and Ginny, who was weeping her pitiful, treacherous tears. Phaedra felt Jorja’s bloody hand take hers and Florenza’s because this was how they’d die, with shaking hands, in putrid clothes. But Cora stood. She said there was no way she was going to die on her knees at the feet of a man. Donashe’s men trained their weapons on Cora, because it was as she had always said: men would destroy first what they could not control. And Phaedra was begging them, begging, please, please. She’d stay on her knees with hands clenched together and beg until her last breath and she could hear Florenza’s sobbing and Jorja’s voice. Hush now. Hush now, my beautiful girls. That would be Jorja’s gift to them when facing death. Calmness.

But then they heard a sound so primitive in its savagery that it chilled the soul and stopped the man’s blade from slashing Cora’s throat. A guttural fury that rivalled the cry of every creature within miles. Through eyes drenched with filth and sweat, Phaedra could see Quintana, could see her madness as the air was pierced with her never-ending roar. Donashe pressed an elbow against her throat and the cry was gagged, but Quintana bit his arm hard, blood on her lips that she spat to the ground.

‘I’ll will this babe to die!’

Phaedra heard both the gods and the demons in Quintana’s voice and the sound frightened her more than the death she was facing.

‘I’ll bleed it from the inside. Just you watch me. Watch me!’

Donashe stared down at the blood on his arm where her teeth had cut into his flesh and he raised a hand to her.

‘Do it!’ Quintana taunted. ‘Do it and watch what I can do in return.’

‘Kill them,’ Donashe ordered the man holding Cora. And Quintana’s shrill scream sounded again and Ginny was crying, clasping hands to her ears.

‘I’ve seen what she can be,’ Ginny sobbed. ‘She’s gods’ blessed and cursed and there’ll be no reward for any of you if they die.’

Donashe’s men dared to look at the filthy Princess whose eyes spelt death. Charyn’s abomination. Its savage. Its curse-maker. And the frightened men shook their heads and stepped away.

‘You kill them, Donashe. I’m not doing it.’

‘She’s a mad bitch and she’ll burn us all, Donashe.’

‘They’ve promised us gold for a living babe. Not for a puddle of blood.’

Donashe gripped Quintana’s arm and dragged her along.

‘You’re weak. All of you,’ he shouted over his shoulder and the men grabbed Phaedra and the women, and followed Donashe to camp.

In the valley, Phaedra saw Tesadora first and then she saw Japhra and the Mont girls and then she saw the valley dwellers. The way they stared in horror and awe at Quintana. The tears on Japhra’s face and the rage in Tesadora’s eyes as she approached Donashe. Tesadora looked so small and Phaedra feared for the Lumateran woman’s life. Feared for them all.

‘You are holding the wife of a Mont leader,’ Tesadora warned. ‘If Phaedra of Alonso is not released, the wrath of the Monts will be felt across Charyn. Explain that to whoever you answer to.’

Donashe pushed Phaedra and the women towards the stone steps that led to the highest cave, a place Phaedra knew they would never escape from.

‘Did you hear me, Charynite?’ Tesadora shouted, following. ‘These are my demands. Return Phaedra of Alonso to the mountain. Release Quintana of Charyn to my care. Let my girls see to Rafuel’s wounds.’

Phaedra gasped and swung around, searching for him. Rafuel? How could she have forgotten him?

‘Oh Rafuel. Rafuel,’ Quintana cried.

And Phaedra truly began to understand the horror of the day as they climbed the steep ascent to the top. In front of the caves below, at the start of the road to Alonso, they saw him. Rafuel was tied to a horse, his face beaten to pulp, his legs barely able to hold him upright. One of Donashe’s men mounted the horse, and it was only then that Phaedra began to weep. Because she knew there was no hope for him … the boy with a basket of cats, this man who had never forsaken their kingdom when others had.

‘Everything for Charyn,’ Rafuel cried and they dragged him away.

Lucian dined late that night with Yata and Isaboe in Yata’s private chamber.

‘You do us an honour each time you birth your children here, cousin,’ Lucian said.

Isaboe reached over to take Yata’s hand. ‘I sometimes feel my mother’s presence here more than in the palace.’

She was teary. Finnikin was settling Jasmina with his Aunt Celestina in the Rock village and Lucian knew she missed them both already. She had never spent a night away from her daughter.

‘Finn will be here soon,’ he said quietly.

They heard voices outside the hall and Isaboe stumbled to her feet. ‘That’s him,’ she said.

But it was their cousin Constance who entered, the girl’s eyes wild and swollen with tears. She had been in the valley and her distress could only mean that something had happened to Tesadora and the girls. Or Phaedra.

‘Constance?’ Lucian said, hurrying across the room to meet her just as her legs buckled. They all cried with alarm and Lucian caught her in his arms.

‘Speak, Constance,’ Isaboe ordered gently.

Yata held out a small bowl of water to Constance, who took it, weeping.

‘They’ve arrested Phaedra.’

‘Who?’ Lucian demanded. ‘Who?’

‘Donashe and his men,’ Constance said. ‘They knew where to find the cave and there was a terrible scene as they dragged the women back upstream. Tesadora fears for all their lives. And Rafuel … they know he’s been hiding the women and they suspect he had a hand in the death of the hangman and they beat him black and blue before our very eyes.’

Sweet Goddess.

‘We can bring them all up the mountain,’ Constance said, ‘and protect –’

‘No!’

This came from Yata.

‘We don’t bring war onto this mountain again,’ Yata said firmly. ‘If we give refuge to their queen, Charyn will attack. You know that, Isaboe.’

Isaboe nodded. ‘There will be no talk of Quintana of Charyn finding refuge in Lumatere,’ she said wearily. ‘I’ve spent almost four years avoiding war. I won’t have it declared over the life of my enemy’s spawn.’

She stood unsteadily on her feet.

‘Where’s my king?’ she asked, and Lucian heard the desperation in her voice. He didn’t want to leave her, but he needed to see Phaedra and he was desperate to go.

‘Finnikin will be here soon,’ Yata said gently. ‘It’s a full day’s ride from the Rock, but he’ll be here soon.’

Isaboe turned to Lucian. ‘Go,’ she said firmly. ‘Take Jory with you. Make Lumatere’s presence known.’

It was deep into a starless night by the time Lucian and Jory reached the foot of the mountain. A sick moon did little to guide their path to the stream, and once there, they saw the flicker of lights from the caves where the Charynite valley dwellers huddled together in fear. Or perhaps in hope. They may have witnessed horror in the valley, but for many, the sight of Quintana of Charyn had given them hope and there would be little sleep among them this night.

‘Lucian!’ he heard Harker’s voice in the dark once they crossed the stream. ‘Is that you?’

‘Yes, with Jory,’ Lucian responded. He heard the crunch of footsteps on dry earth, then light from a lantern appeared and soon Harker and Kasabian were before them.

‘Have you spoken to the women?’ Lucian asked.

‘Briefly,’ Kasabian said, ‘but with Donashe and his men at our shoulders, there was no time for anything but