Chapter Nineteen

Wilder's words stayed with Thea well into the next day. She clung to them when the brutal cold of Aveum's hinterlands bit into her bones as she, Wren and Anya landed atop the snow in the icy woodlands. Anya's ribbons of power dissipated and her wings dematerialised at her back, all evidence of her shadow-touched magic gone in the blink of an eye.

The sisters had decided that arriving on Queen Reyna's doorstep swathed in darkness would likely set the wrong tone for their meeting, and so Anya had brought them to the outskirts of Vios, where they would make their way on foot to the floating domes at the heart of the capital.

Thea had forgotten how much she detested the cold. Even with Furies-given power thrumming inside her, the grip of Aveum's winter was unrelenting, pain already blooming at her extremities and her scarred wrist aching like a bitch. In the chaos, she'd forgotten all about the salve Wren had made for her, and she made a mental note to use it as soon as they were somewhere her fingers wouldn't snap off.

‘Where exactly are we?' she muttered, burying the lower half of her face in the woollen scarf she'd looped around her neck. Barren trees surrounded them, evergreens that should have borne leaves even in the frost. But there was no sign of life in sight, only the trickle of the half-frozen stream nearby. Thea already longed for the warmth of Wilder and their bed.

‘The woods just outside of Silverbrook village. Kipp said you rode through it before – it's just beyond the treeline,' Wren replied. ‘We should get moving before we freeze to death.'

Anya cupped her hands to her face, blowing hot breath over her fingers. ‘Sounds like a solid plan to me. Of all the ways to die after everything I've been through, turning to a block of ice in some dead forest would be rather underwhelming.'

Thea snorted at that and trudged after her through the snow.

Together, the sisters wove through the skeletal trees and navigated the icy terrain without much complaint, though Thea could hear their teeth chattering. She found it increasingly surreal to be walking at their sides – the heirs of Delmira, united after all this time. Most of the midrealms knew it now, and they were on their way to declare it to another ruler, in the hopes of securing her alliance. Life had changed a lot since she'd been forced to mix potions as a would-be alchemist at the fortress.

‘I think we need to train together,' Anya declared as they crested a ridge and spotted the outer buildings of Frostvale.

‘Wren's got basic defence training, same as all Thezmarrians,' Thea replied. Their younger sister had never shown much inclination towards fighting beyond the basics, insisting that her alchemy skills were just as dangerous as fists and blades.

Anya laughed. ‘That's not what I meant. Though…' She turned to Wren. ‘It might be time to brush up on some of those basics.'

Thea suppressed a chuckle at Wren's answering scowl. ‘What did you mean, then?' she prompted.

‘Magic,' Anya said. ‘We need to train our magic together, so we can work as a unit, when the time comes.'

‘I thought the same thing,' Wren admitted. ‘We're strongest together. Though I haven't the faintest idea how it might work…'

Anya tucked her gloved hands under her arms, cursing the cold. ‘I spoke with Audra. She showed me a few things we might try, but she wasn't sure those techniques would help us so late in the game.'

‘Not exactly encouraging, as always,' Thea retorted.

Wren silenced her with a well-placed elbow to the ribs, finding her mark even beneath all the layers. ‘What did she suggest, then?'

Anya forged on. ‘Her main point was that joint magic is all about connection.'

‘We're connected by blood. Doesn't get more solid than that, surely,' Thea said, training her gaze on the nearing village.

‘Audra seemed to think otherwise.'

‘Audra going against the grain?' Thea mocked. ‘Never.'

‘Shut up, Thee,' Wren snapped.

Anya gave her a grateful look, a silent exchange that would never have happened a matter of months ago. Thea reeled back a little. She had clearly underestimated how much her older and younger sister had bonded in her absence. A twinge of jealousy bloomed in the wake of the realisation.

‘Audra said that in order to create a powerful link between the three of us, we have to know one another, deeply. That our shared blood is only the beginning of a meaningful connection.'

‘That would have been great advice years ago, but how are we meant to build decades' worth of sibling dynamics in a matter of weeks? Should I just hand over my fucking diary?' Thea clicked her tongue in frustration, still bitter about the fact that Audra had been unable to find a way to transfer her power to her sisters when the time came.

Anya levelled her with a stare, her scar never failing to elevate her fierceness. ‘You could start with telling us about these supposed death notes.'

Thea stared at her. ‘How the fuck do you know about those?'

Anya and Wren exchanged another look, which only served to agitate Thea further.

‘Half the building heard you and Wilder yelling about them last night,' Wren supplied with a shrug. ‘If you don't want everyone in your business, maybe take it somewhere else next time. In fact, please take it somewhere else next time. The aftermath of that row is seared in my brain forever. I'm scarred for life.'

Anya made a garbled noise as she tried not to laugh.

‘You're just jealous,' Thea quipped. ‘Everyone wants a Warsword of their own.'

Anya did laugh that time. ‘Oh, I think Wren could have a Warsword if she wanted one.'

‘We're not having this conversation,' Wren said firmly.

‘But we can talk about my private matters as much as you want?' Thea countered.

‘You forfeit the right to privacy the moment you fuck on the rebellion's war table.' Anya folded her arms over her chest and waited for Thea's argument.

But Thea shrugged. ‘Fine.'

‘Tell us about the notes, then,' Wren said, more gently this time.

Thea tugged her cloak tighter around her, feeling the press of her fate stone against her naked skin beneath all her layers. ‘I…'

To her surprise, her sisters waited patiently for her to form the words, somehow recognising that this wasn't the moment to push, but the moment to let her speak at her own pace.

‘I wanted to leave him something for when I'm gone,' she heard herself say. ‘We can pretend it doesn't exist all we want —' She motioned to the stone under her clothes. ‘But it doesn't change the reality. Fate will come to claim me soon enough, and when it does, I wanted to leave something of me behind. I —' Her voice cracked, but she forged on. ‘I wanted to say all the things I won't get time to say. I wanted him to know…'

Mortified, Thea found tears tracking down her cheeks. She hadn't spoken to anyone about this, not even Wilder himself, and she didn't realise how much it had been eating away at her.

Wren's arm came around her shoulders. ‘He knows, Thee. Believe me, that man knows.'

Clearly not one for offering physical comfort, Anya nodded at her side. ‘Fate is nothing to fear,' she said quietly. ‘It comes for us all in the end.'

‘Doesn't make it easier,' Thea muttered.

‘No,' Anya replied. ‘It doesn't.'

Thea cleared her throat and shrugged Wren's arm off her. ‘Well, that was me. Who's next?'

‘Didn't realise this was a tit-for-tat sort of situation.' Anya pointed ahead. ‘Plus, we're here.'

‘You're not getting away with it that easily,' Thea replied.

But sure enough, familiar buildings made of stone and timber stood before the trio, roofs heavy with snow. The streets beyond were narrow and winding. Wren was right: Thea had ridden through these parts with Wilder, Cal and Kipp on their way to the floating domes, wherein she'd given Wilder over as a prisoner to the rulers of the midrealms. The memory tasted bitter on her tongue now.

On foot, the sisters made their way into the village, and Thea realised how much it had changed since she'd last passed through. The shops and stalls spilling out into the streets were gone or boarded up. The aroma of meat roasting on spits, the laughter and music from the taverns – all gone. How long had it been since she'd watched that quartet of performers juggling flaming torches?

‘What happened to this place?' she breathed.

‘Is it so different to what it was?' Wren asked.

‘Yes,' Anya and Thea replied in unison.

Anya grimaced. ‘I had heard that after the arachne attack, Aveum sort of fell apart at the seams… But I didn't want to believe it. I thought Queen Reyna was stronger than that.'

‘She lost her husband,' Thea pointed out.

‘She has a kingdom to run,' Anya countered. ‘Life does not stop after the death of a single person.'

Her sister's words cut deeper than any blade.

Thea knew that when her existence was wiped from the world, everything else would remain. She knew and hoped that everyone would move forward, her ashes fading in their wake, but it didn't make it hurt any less that she wouldn't be there, that life wasn't hers for the taking.

‘Sorry,' Anya muttered, giving her a nudge.

‘It's fine,' Thea replied, quickening her pace. The sooner they got through the village, the sooner they'd get to Vios, and the sooner they could rally Reyna to their cause and get the fuck out of here.

Anya matched her strides. ‘I'm not… I'm not the most sensitive person,' she admitted, her breath clouding before her face. ‘The result of spending the majority of my developing years in a cave, I'm afraid.'

‘No one ever accused Thea of being overly sensitive, anyway,' Wren interjected. ‘Maybe it's an Embervale trait?'

‘I wouldn't know the first thing about Embervale traits,' Thea said.

Anya nodded to Thea. ‘I brought those letters I told you about. When we were at the shadow-touched camp before the Singing Hare? I thought you both might like to read them.'

‘What letters?' Wren asked.

‘The ones our mother wrote to the Queen of Naarva before the kingdoms fell.'

Thea had never seen Wren look so hopeful. ‘You have letters from our mother?'

‘Here.' Anya dug through her pockets and offered Wren a small bundle of envelopes tied together with twine.

But to Thea's surprise, Wren pushed them back. ‘Let's read them together.'

The only outward sign that this had moved Anya was the fresh flush of pink at the tips of her cheeks, but she simply nodded and stashed the letters away once more.

Soon, they were on the main road to Aveum, the floating domes of Vios hovering in the near distance. Thea wished she had a horse; she could no longer feel her toes.

‘While it's just the three of us,' Wren ventured, with a tentative glance at both Thea and Anya, ‘we should talk about our plans for Delmira.'

‘It's rubble and rot,' Thea replied.

‘But it's ours, by birthright,' Wren argued.

‘It's Anya's by birthright,' Thea corrected. ‘So by all means, have it. Be queen of the ruins.'

Anya snorted. ‘I'm already the supposed Daughter of Darkness – I don't think I can take another title. How about we give it to you, Wren?'

Wren crossed her arms. ‘This isn't a joke.'

‘Who said I was joking?' Anya said.

Wren shook her head. ‘I won't be the only one to ask this question. I thought it might be prudent to have some semblance of an answer before standing in front of the Queen of Aveum.'

Anya sighed. ‘She's right. When the fighting is done, the people will want to know who rules what kingdom.'

‘And they'll rally to their homeland,' Wren added.

‘Let them rally to whichever one of you wants to rule over the ashes,' Thea said. ‘I'm not long for this world anyway.'

‘Thea,' Wren chastised. ‘Don't think like that —'

It was Thea's turn to sigh. ‘We have to win the fucking war first. Then we can argue over what to do with the fallen kingdom. A pile of ashes isn't going anywhere, Wren.'

‘No,' Anya agreed. ‘But what rises from the ashes, Thea? A phoenix, that's what.'

Thea shrugged. ‘In that case, Wren looks like a great phoenix to me.'

As they trekked towards the capital, bracing themselves against the wretched winds and flurries of snow, they spoke of how their lives might have been as princesses of the midrealms. The juxtaposition of their current status was not lost on any of them, and Thea found it almost laughable as she surveyed the three of them. Anya with her shaved head and scarred eye, not to mention her wings and shadows when she called on them; Wren with her potions and experiments; and Thea the Warsword. It was hard to picture them dolled up in ballgowns and tiaras, meeting Queen Reyna as near-equals. They would have grown up with royal feasts and dances, surrounded by riches and people of noble stock.

‘We could have been married off to princes,' Wren mused.

‘What princes?' Thea scoffed. ‘None of the royals have male heirs.'

‘Perhaps a prince from the realms beyond the Veil,' Wren replied. ‘A marriage of alliance.'

‘I think Thea might be off the marriage market,' Anya quipped.

Wren made a noise of agreement before she turned to Thea, her brow furrowed. ‘I thought Warswords didn't take wives? Isn't it part of their vows?'

Thea shrugged. ‘I took no such vow. And nor would I take a wife.'

‘Have you and Wilder talked —'

‘There hasn't been much time for talking,' Thea cut her off.

‘Don't we know it,' Wren muttered.

‘Oh, piss off.' Thea gave her a gentle shove.

But Wren simply grinned. ‘Wasn't I right, all those years ago? When you were heartbroken over that stupid stable master's apprentice? What was his name? Evander?'

Thea knew exactly what Wren was talking about. ‘I've no idea what you mean.'

‘You do so.'

‘Do not.'

‘What were you right about?' Anya asked, her gaze flitting between the two.

‘Evander had a problem with Thea's ambition to become a warrior, a Warsword… He was threatened by her. I told her: a true man won't cut you down as you fight your battles… A true man helps sharpen your sword, guards your back and fights at your side.'

Anya's brows shot up, impressed. ‘That was very wise.'

Wren looked pleased. ‘I know.'

Mischief lit up their older sister's eyes. ‘Tell us, Wren… Anyone in particular you want fighting at your side these days?'

‘No.'

‘You sure about that?'

Wren shot her a warning look. ‘Yes.'

Thea's cheeks ached from grinning at this exchange, only to be robbed of the joy as she realised that she wouldn't get this time with her sisters for long. She had already wasted years of bickering with Wren, when they could have had friendship. Now they'd only just found Anya, and she was almost out of time.

Thankfully, neither Wren nor Anya noticed her mood souring as they reached the city of Vios. The floating domes and surrounding residences were nestled in the heart of a deep valley, on the banks of a glacier-fed river – an impressive sight, framed by snow-capped mountains.

As they drew closer, Thea saw that the floating domes were adorned with black flags for mourning, and the official gates to the inner city were flanked by more guards than last time. Aveum guards, at least, Thea thought, recalling how it had been Artos' men on the perimeter last time. Hope was not lost – not yet.

Two burly soldiers barred the way into the keep, staring down at all three sisters suspiciously. Thea cursed Artos and his damn wanted posters. The men here had no doubt seen their likenesses plastered all over the city.

‘We're here to see Queen Reyna,' Thea declared.

‘The queen is not entertaining visitors. She is in mourning,' one of the guards told her coldly.

‘We're aware,' Anya said with equal iciness. ‘We're not here to be entertained.'

The guard's eyes narrowed. ‘What are you here for, then?'

‘To plan for the war ahead,' Anya told him without hesitation.

The guard blinked at her. ‘War?'

‘Did I stammer?'

‘Take your attitude somewhere else, girl. Before we sound the alarm and have you thrown in the ice dungeons.'

But Anya stood firm, resting a hand on the handle of her scythe. ‘We're not leaving until we see the queen.'

The guard's eyes widened as he noted the gesture, and the weapon itself. ‘I know you! You're the —'

Thea glanced at Wren, who gave her a subtle nod. Thea pulled Anya back before she started a brawl, and addressed the guard herself.

‘Tell Queen Reyna that the heirs of Delmira beg an audience.'