Then I look around the deck. “Where’s Leo?”
My brother doesn’t answer, so I look past him to the cabin. There, in the doorway, the golden light of another soul is gleaming.
My heart drops. I stumble closer, tripping over the bodies of the soldiers and falling to my knees. I try to get back up, but my legs are too unsteady, so I scramble closer on my hands. I can see his face long before I reach his side: Leo lying there, still, on the floor.
I sit back on my heels. The numb feeling has returned. It moves up my legs to my stomach, my heart, my head, swallowing me whole. Is this what death feels like? I thought I had survived, but now I’m not so certain.
“Jetta . . .” Akra’s voice. He has followed me to the cabin, but I don’t dare turn. I don’t want to see him. “Le Trépas had already killed him by the time I got here. Are you . . . going to bring him back?”
My entire body tenses at the question. I look down at my bloody hands. I could do it. It wouldn’t even hurt him. With no wounds, there would be nothing to heal. Just a gentle ushering, a whispered word, an open door. The mark of life—like the one he wore on his shoulder. But I can’t bring myself to answer my brother’s question.
“Leave me alone,” I say instead.
Akra hesitates—fighting the order—before he walks away.
He cannot disobey.
Act 3,Scene 29
Dawn breaks over the Ruby Palace. Corpses litter the plaza—lying where they fell when LE TRÉPAS died. But as the griffin circles, THEODORA spies familiar faces below.
THEODORA: Camreon! Cheeky!
The two of them look up as THEODORA comes in for a landing. CHEEKY and TIA still wear their fine dresses, but CAMREON has changed into a pair of fine trousers and a white shirt. The outfit belonged to his brother, but the crown on his head was always supposed to be his.
Sliding from the griffin’s back, THEODORA’s legs shake as she races into CAMREON’s arms. They hold each other tight as CHEEKY and TIA look on.
THEODORA: I’m so glad you’re safe.
CHEEKY: Get a room.
TIA: They’ve got a whole palace.
THEODORA pulls back, looking around at the bodies, lying so still in the dawn light.
THEODORA: Is the palace . . . secure?
CAMREON: It is. From what I can see, Jetta found Le Trépas.
THEODORA nods.
There aren’t many living soldiers left, but those who remain seem loyal to their paychecks. And I’ve sent word to my local contacts. They’re gathering in the throne room.
THEODORA: And Raik?
CHEEKY interjects.
CHEEKY: Succumbed to his wounds.
CAMREON gives her a look, then puts his hand over his brow.
CAMREON: I’ll tell you the whole story when there’s more time. Is the Prix de Guerre safe?
THEODORA: I didn’t stay to watch.
She hesitates, chewing her lip. Then she looks down to the book she holds.
Perhaps the Keeper can tell us how it ended.
CAMREON’s eyes widen.
CAMREON: That’s the Book of Knowledge?
In spite of herself, THEODORA smiles tightly.
THEODORA: It’s been hidden in Aquitan for years. As soon as we’re able, we can bring it back to the temple at Kwai Goo. It takes ink rather than blood. Do you have a pen?
CAMREON: Inside. Come.
Leaving the griffin on the plaza, the rebels return to the palace to look for ink and answers. They do not like what they learn.
Chapter Thirty
It takes me some time to realize the boat is moving. When I do, I stand, feeling dizzy. Crossing the cabin, my feet feel like stones.
Passing through the doorway, I find a crowd on the deck. The Aquitans have emerged from below, hungry, tired, shivering from their ordeal—but they are alive.
There are souls here too, glimmering: the armée soldiers that Le Trépas had animated. Le Trépas’s own soul must be somewhere among them. Should I find him? Trap him? Keep him from being reborn?
No—the Keeper had spoken of balance, and if a servant exists for the Maiden, one must exist for the King. Besides, I won’t live forever, and my death would free his soul if I trapped it. Better to let it go now, while I’m here to keep watch.
His body has been piled with the rest of them: the soldiers who had fallen, and the ones who had been thrown overboard to pull the ship. They’ll be burned properly once we return to shore.
At some point, the ship had turned around. Now, we are close enough to Nokhor Khat that I can make out figures waiting at the dock. The crowd parts around me as I walk toward the bow. Akra is there, but he avoids my gaze, keeping his distance. A single long chain leads into the water. There is the dragon, toying with the swirling waves as she tows us into the harbor.
The Aquitans have clustered on deck, eager for the home they didn’t know they loved so much. The spirits too have gathered, as though ready to embark for the temple. But to me, my own country seems a strange place. Unfamiliar. I have only been gone a few days, but everything has changed.
Camreon is waiting on the pier as the ship pulls in. At his back is a small force—a few palace guards and the local rebels he must have drummed up. As he welcomes the ship, I notice the dragon-bone crown on his head. I know I should feel relieved, but I don’t feel much of anything.
His new armée ushers the refugees to the barracks for housing and medical care. The spirits disembark too, drifting toward Hell’s Court in a river of gold. Only one stays behind: Leo’s.
It stands over his body, as though keeping vigil alongside me. In the golden light of his soul, I try to read the song he left for me.
It scrawls across the floor: a
