Chapter 1

Chapter

One

TRESSYA

Would I ever enter Emberforge without remembering the man who first enticed me inside?

Standing in the massive entrance hall, encircled by towering pillars supporting a floating roof overhead, I struggled to recall Tamas leading me this way on the day we stealthily entered the temple.

Back then, I had overlooked the warnings. Newly arrived in Tolum, I had already begun showing disloyalty to the Sistern, allowing my enemy to cloud my mind with his presence. That day was etched into my memory, not because I risked being caught by the king and Salmun, or having my true identity exposed, but because of Tamas.

Ensnared in his charm, I had convinced myself that keeping him a secret from the king and the Salmun was wise; after all, knowledge is power. I believed the Sistern's six pillars: loyalty, discipline, precision, courage, secrecy, and discretion, would shield me from any challenge. Too late, I realized I was defenseless against Tamas, both physically and emotionally. Despite the Mother Divine's rigorous training, my heart was not made of stone.

"Your Majesty," Orphus's voice and the soft swish of his cloak across the stone floor sent a prickly sensation across the back of my neck. His face remained concealed beneath his hood, for which I was thankful. I preferred not to glimpse the eerie markings the Salmun adorned on their faces, nor endure his deep-set eyes, which seemed to rake over me, heavy with dark secrets.

One week since the fight in the Ashenlands wasn't sufficient to adjust to my new title.

"I'd like a moment." Or ten.

I kept my back to him, preferring to gaze at the gap between the stone walls and the roof, out into the gray sky—a fitting backdrop for a funeral.

"Of course, Your Majesty. I shall return when it's time." Before facing what lay inside, I sought solitude to organize my thoughts. I felt unprepared to confront the spirit of King Ricaud without mental preparation.

"You shall wait until I'm ready." Commanding the Creed of Salmun was new to me, but I was quickly learning to enjoy it.

The silence lasted scarcely two breaths. "It is understandable?—"

"Thank you, Orphus, that will be all." Silence enveloped me again, this time creeping in like a beast from the Ashenlands. The intensity of his gaze burned through the back of my head, but I refused to turn and face him.

"You've grown claws, my dear, and I love it," Andriet said.

Despite my resolve to ignore Orphus, I spun around, forcing myself to maintain eye contact with the prelate instead of glancing at Andriet.

"The service is timed to conclude at the top of the hour, preceding the vigil of devotion. I'm afraid too long a delay will shorten our time," Orphus said.

"Top of the hour preceding the vigil of devotion is an auspicious time—" Andriet said.

"It is the reason I suggested I return in good—" the prelate interrupted Andriet.

"Fine. Let me know when the service is about to commence."

I turned my back on Orphus again, rewarded by the sound of his cloak sweeping the ground as he moved deeper into the temple.

"I asked you not to come." My voice was low, knowing now I would get no peace.

Andriet appeared beside me, his clothes still stained with blood, the deepest crimson centered around his chest, just below his heart. It was a constant reminder of the horrific night in the Ashenlands.

"And miss my funeral."

"To avoid raising suspicion. We know little about the true extent of the Salmun's abilities. I need to keep my secrets, Andriet. "

It was hard to say I'd lost my closest friend when he stood beside me. His death was a violent affront to his soul, preventing eternal peace and leaving him in limbo behind the veil. The night had seen too much death for me to let him go.

Spirits are tethered to their death site, but while he still existed behind the veil, separating the living from the dead, I had freed him from this constraint. Perhaps wrongly—I lacked sufficient knowledge of spiritweaving lore to foresee the potential consequences of my meddling. The veil remained his cage, but he would not spend his eternity in the Ashenlands; rather, he could choose wherever he wanted to be.

"You have no bloody secrets, my dear, considering you brought the entire spirit realm of the Ashenlands across the veil to fight for us. I'm sure the Salmun suspects I'm still here."

I rubbed my brow, turning away from Andriet. Summoning the spirits was a desperate act, disrupting the delicate balance between life and death. As a novice spiritweaver, courtesy of the Mother Divine, uncertainty about whether I had set a dire future in motion plagued me. I'd returned the spirits to their rightful place as soon as possible, but the damage may have already been done.

And now, Andriet. I dared not consider the consequences of my actions that night.

"Of course they know about my abilities." Frustration seeped into my voice, though not directed at Andriet. The last few weeks had been tumultuous. "They can't guess the full extent." I faced him. "You're supposed to be haunting the Ashenlands with your men, not the halls of Emberforge and Emberfell. I want your presence here to remain a secret from them."

What concerned me was the Salmun's disinterest in my ability to free the dead. I'd expected Orphus to exhaust me with questions regarding that night, but he'd said nothing these last weeks.

"I promise not to tell a living soul." Andriet moved to touch me. Instinctively, I jerked my hand away, then regretted my action the moment I saw the distress on his face.

"There's much I have to get used to," he said.

"I'm sorry, Andriet. It's just?—"

"Please, don't apologize. I may no longer touch, feel, or taste, but I am eternally grateful to be freed from that dreadful place, thanks to you." He raised a hand to silence me. "I don't want to hear it, you silly thing. None of this is your fault. If anyone's to blame, it's the Salmun. Their sole duty was to protect the House of Tannard. Instead, they let us all die."

I closed my eyes briefly and sighed. We had argued about this too. The only reason the Salmun abandoned Andriet and his father was because of me and my link to the Etherweave, a power I barely understood until that fateful night when the Salmun declared me the new House of Tannard.

"I'm not ready to face my fate." In my weaker moments, I'd let that slip on more than one occasion in the last few weeks.

"Nonsense. That's not the girl I know talking." Andriet moved to stand in front of me, reciting the same argument he'd used. "Not the princess I rescued from the sea after she'd faced a ship of Huungardred and won."

"They weren't Huungardred."

It crippled me knowing Andriet still had faith in me when everything was my fault. The old House of Tannard was dead because of me. I'd held all my secrets close when I should've let them be known. Andriet knew nothing of my dalliances with Tamas, nor was he aware of how much I knew about the Northerners' planned attack. If the king had known of Tamas's plans to strike while they were on the edge of the Ashenlands, maybe Andriet would still be alive.

"Same nasty beasts," Andriet said.

I gazed up at the fragments of sky visible through the floating roof, harboring yet another secret deep in my heart: I was struggling. Andriet was right. I wasn't the same princess who had faced the Razohan on the ship. The war against our enemy in the Ashenlands, the deaths I was responsible for—I had killed one of my sisters, for mercy's sake; a betrayal so grievous against the Sistern—had sapped my strength.

If I confessed the truth, would Andriet think less of me? I was a coward, afraid he would abandon me when I needed him most, because I didn't know how to be a queen. I needed him by my side, guiding me through difficulties, supporting me when I faltered, correcting my mistakes. But more than that, I needed a friend.

I turned from him, feeling the shame every time I saw his ethereal form floating beside me, knowing I had forever deprived him of the warmth of the sun on his skin, the pleasure of good food, and the tenderness of a lover's touch .

"That's all behind us now. You defeated them spectacularly. And now you're queen. The House of Tannard lives on."

I lowered my head, yearning to hide from his ceaseless praise.

"It's…Andriet, I?—"

"Hush. That's enough of that."

In response to Andriet's questioning about my connection to the House of Tannard, I simply shrugged. He was adamant I was a displaced great granddaughter, or rather, and joked about us being nearly siblings.

The Mother, true to her nature, seldom disclosed her knowledge or intentions to her disciples. Our role was to obey, not to question. However, I was aware of the Sistern's purpose: to strengthen their influence in the world through strategic births. I had initially believed the Mother's scheme in arranging my marriage to the crown prince was to secure a link to the throne of the most powerful kingdom in the neighboring realms; an heir born of a disciple on the Tarragona throne. But I was mistaken. The Sistern's manipulation of my lineage had consequences far beyond what I had imagined. It wasn't an heir she desired on the throne. It was me.

The Mother had guided me, trained me in the six pillars, gave me the strength to survive my cruel life. My thanks to her for elevating me above my sisters within the Sistern and placing me upon the Tarragona throne as queen was betrayal. Yet, by leaving me under-prepared for my role as queen and transforming me into a spiritweaver without my consent, I would say she'd also betrayed me. Even so, I'd sent word to the Mother, needing her counsel .

I stared up at Andriet, unable to mirror his wicked smile. You shouldn't have so much faith in me.

Beside me, Andriet straightened. I looked over my shoulder at hearing footsteps moving toward us on the stone floor. Gusselan approached, flanked by Merrilda, her lady's maid, confident and fellow Levenian.

I'd had little time to speak with Andriet's mother since his death. Gazing at her sallow complexion and gaunt frame, I yearned to reveal the truth to her: that her son was always by her side, invisible yet ever-present.

Freeing Gusselan from the Salmun's cruel, deathly enchantment had been my first purpose on returning from the Ashenlands. She'd survived their poisonous magic, but I now questioned if she would survive the pain of losing both her sons—the loss of Henricus, her husband, I was sure she celebrated in solitude.

Andriet glided forward as if to ease Merrilda's burden and support his mother's weight, which he couldn't, of course. Watching his helplessness as he moved beside her was difficult, hands splayed outward, ready to catch her if she stumbled, yet knowing he would never succeed. Nor would he ever be able to hold her or comfort her again.

"You look stronger," I said when she reached me.

She locked her eyes with mine. "I doubt that."

Judging by the harsh tone in her voice, it was clear Gusselan still didn't trust me. "The Salmun won't harm you anymore." Andriet's presence made me cautious in selecting my words. "It's up to you to decide if you want to survive."

"You think you have that much sway over them?" There was no accusation in her reply. She was, perhaps, too sickly and tired for such emotions.

"Please wait for me. I have something I wish to attend to first. I won't be long," I said, ignoring her question, because she was right. I doubted I had little sway over the Salmun, whose sole duty was to protect the House of Tannard.

I caught her frown as I retraced her steps, giving a subtle jerk of my head to Andriet, hoping he wouldn't decide to be stubborn and ignore me.

To my relief, he followed. I led him out of the main courtyard, away from Gusselan and Merrilda.

"Please, Andriet. I need time alone with your mother."

"There's no point in secrets, Tressya."

"Your mother has many. In respect for her, please let her keep them. She may never have wanted you to know."

"What are you talking about? You're an enigma, little queen. How could you know anything about my mother? The short time you've been in Tarragona, she's kept to her bed? I have spent the last twenty-six years by her side. Are you suggesting you know more about her than I do?"

I reached for him before I remembered I could never touch him again. A sudden sharp pain stabbed at my heart. "Nobody is without secrets, Andriet. Some they might not even be aware of themselves." The last I added under my breath, for the mystery of how I became linked to the House of Tannard, and heir to the Bone Throne.

Dammit . I had no power to stop myself from thinking of Tamas and all the secrets he'd kept.

"Please." Once again, I reached for his hands before stopping myself, my hands helplessly hovering over his, unwilling to feel the chilling sensation of touching a spirit. "Give your mother the privacy she deserves. It's the day of your funeral. Daelon will be…" Was it cruel of me to mention Andriet's former lover?

Andriet ducked his head. Curses. It was insensitive of me to use Daelon to distract Andriet.

I swallowed the hardness thinning my throat. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have?—"

"No. It's all right. But it hurts too much to see his pain."

"Then I'm truly sorry?—"

"But you're right. I'll go to him. It's wrong the Salmun refused him entry to attend my funeral."

"That was something I had no power over."

"Only heirs to the Bone Throne may enter Emberforge. I know that. That they accepted Mother is a blessing, at least."

There was a sudden wildness in his eyes. "I want Daelon to know about me, Tressya. I want him to understand that I am with him."

"But you can't. You're a spirit. Besides, I'm not sure if that's a good idea."

"I have not abandoned him. And I never will. He needs to know that. We promised each other no matter our futures we would always find a way to see each other. He'll know I'm there."

"Andriet, that's not a good idea. Daelon needs to learn to live his life without you. If you?—"

"I know what I'm doing." And he was gone.

Curses, I was a fool. I shouldn't have brought Daelon up, but I needed a way of distracting Andriet from his own funeral, giving me time with his mother .

There was nothing I could do about his decision now, nor was I prepared to command him to my will, a capability he didn't even know I had as a spiritweaver. Exerting such power would be the ultimate betrayal of our friendship.

If only I had that level of control over Tamas.

Whenever I thought of Tamas, the skin around the bite mark tingled—the mark he'd given me the first time we met on the ship, during the Razohan attack intent on killing me. Instead of killing me, he had spared me, marking me by biting my wrist and forging an intimate connection between us he had no right to impose.

His audacity to do such a thing infuriated me. However, with each emotion I felt towards Tamas, there was a contradictory twist of elation; it was twisted because, as my greatest adversary, I should abhor being bound to him, but there was also a sense of elation: our connection allowed me to feel that he had survived his grievous wounds.

I was as sure of his survival as I was of the inevitable doom of anything that might exist between us. I was now the new House of Tannard, with my duty to ascend to the Tarragona throne, and eventually, according to the Salmun, the Bone Throne. But that was Tamas's ambition, the reason his people risked crossing the deadly Ashenlands. I could be nothing but his greatest enemy now.

Then there were the unexpected emotions that overwhelmed me when he stood against his friend, the Nazeen, to protect me during the fight in the Ashenlands. At that moment, I was convinced the emotions I felt were not my own, but his, which seemed impossible. A week later, as the clarity of that night faded in my memory, my certainty waned. I longed to confront him about the consequences of his bite, yet I was equally apprehensive about the prospect of ever seeing him again; finding common ground seemed unlikely now I'd usurped his position on the throne.

I pushed my problems aside and headed back to Gusselan, conscious I'd left a sick woman waiting too long for my return. The guilt increased upon seeing her leaning heavily on Merrilda, so I took the other side of her.

At first, she was reluctant to accept the silent offer, but she was still too weak to protest. Perhaps the Salmun had ignored my demand to release her from their death spell.

"I'll take care of her from here," I told Merrilda, who glanced at Gusselan, unsure if she should comply, yet unable to refuse the command of the queen.

Gusselan acknowledged her loyal friend with a nod. Following this, Merrilda excused herself, leaving me to support more of Gusselan's weight, which felt akin to holding up a skeleton. Tall in stature, Gusselan's illness had caused her to stoop, reducing her to my height. "You want secrecy?" she asked, her voice as frail as her form.

"I speak better when alone, and there is much we can learn from each other."

In the corner of my eye, I spied a spirit keeping pace with us two pillars across from us. He wore the uniform of a soldier, dirty and bloody as the day he died in battle. I scrunched my eyes, forcing my attention back to our conversation.

"You mean there is much you can learn."

"There is that. I know nothing about being a queen."

"You think I can help you? "

"Some advice?—"

"A queen beside her king is nothing more than an ornament." I allowed her a few moments to catch her breath. "I can't help with what you want."

"I think you can. You're a disciple of your order. You weren't sent here to birth the next heir to the Tarragonan throne because you're weak. I know much feels beyond you at the moment, but that will change. You'll get stronger," I said.

The sudden rigidity in her body showed she had more to say, but needed a moment to muster the strength to speak. I slowed our pace, recognizing that there were many things I wanted to express before we encountered the Salmun.

"I know nothing of the Salmun, but you have spent all these years living beside them. And I know little of Tarragona's court."

"The Salmun hold their secrets, and you destroyed much of Tarragona's court." She glanced around her. I did the same, noticing the spirit soldier continued to keep pace with us. "This is my first time inside Emberforge. That's how much they allowed me to see."

"I don't believe you learned nothing."

"And you're not my friend, so stop pretending to be."

My steps faltered, a sudden surge of shame hollowing my chest. I bore responsibility for her profound losses—her children, her husband, her queenly title, her duty as a disciple to her order. It was no wonder she harbored loathing toward me, despite all my efforts to save her life.

"I'm sorry for everything you've suffered. Losing your sons was never my intention. I tried everything I could to save Andriet."

Liar. I kept Tamas a secret.

"What is it you really want from me?" Gusselan said.

I hesitated before answering, uncertain myself. I'd freed Andriet from the Ashenlands because I needed a friend to stand by me as I faced my uncertain future, and there was more at stake. The prospect of bowing to a queen enraged the nobles. It was an unprecedented event in Tarragona's history. Many expressed dissent, accusing me of having no true links to the Tannard line, claiming me as bloodborn—which I was yet to fully understand—or a ruse, a sleight of magic beyond their comprehension. Even the assurances from the Salmun couldn't pacify some of the influential voices that survived that dreadful night.

This fate I didn't even want. The Mother had thrust it upon me. "You and I are alike."

"We're nothing alike."

I glanced at her profile, noting a slight mottling of her skin, ever so faint I at first missed it. I shifted my vision, searching for her death echo and was pleased to see the fringes of her aura, the areas that had once darkened like a coming storm, were slowly turning into the vibrancy of life.

"What's your order called?" I asked.

"Why should I tell you?"

"There's no longer any reason for us to be hostile toward each other. You succeeded in your duty to your order, birthing two heirs to the throne?—"

"Succeeded, you think. Where are my sons now?"

"Your order left you to die. "

"Duty is sacrifice."

I inhaled, then steadily released my breath. Was being queen my sacrifice to the Sistern? After everything that had happened, it certainly felt as though it was.

"In all honesty, I don't wish to be queen."

Gusselan sagged on my arm but kept her eyes forward.

"It's the truth. I was na?ve to the Mother's real plans. I never suspected she wanted this of me. You must realize I have no idea of my heritage. Someone claimed I was bloodborn. What does that mean, exactly?"

Tamas had called me a bloodborn, which was then echoed by a nobleman's declaration when Orphus named me heir to the Bone Throne, though Orphus himself denied it. Andriet had scorned the term bloodborn when I brought it up, proceeding to denounce it as an abomination—a lineage tainted by heathens, liars, and murderers. When I asked Orphus to explain the term, he confessed he didn't understand what it meant. Liar .

"It means you're cursed." This time, she faced me with accusatory turquoise eyes.

"I don't understand."

A wicked smile brought creases to the corners of her mouth. "It means the Salmun have lost. After a millennium of protecting the Levenian line of Tannard rulers, they have finally lost the throne to a northerner."

"No. Orphus said that night in the cave I wasn't bloodborn."

"That's because he doesn't want anyone knowing the truth of who you really are." She glanced around as if checking for unwelcomed listeners .

I now spied two spirit soldiers hovering some distance away.

"Who am I?"

"No illegitimates of the Levenian line of the House of Tannard are born. A strict rule enforced by the Salmun for a millennium. It's impossible. Their magic makes it so."

It seemed she'd dismissed my question. "That seems improbable."

"A binding of their fertility until their marriage. It's an easy enough task when you wield magic."

"But why bother?"

"The Salmun aimed to control anyone with a claim to the Bone Throne—a task that would become impossible if history were teeming with illegitimate children fathered by successive kings over a millennium."

She glared at me, reminding me of the Mother's stern gaze when I displeased her.

"Heirs born of the Levenian line within the House of Tannard inherit the ability to master the Etherweave." She leaned into me, needing my strength for support.

This was the reason her order and mine had sought to influence the Tarragona throne.

"They are not the only ones capable of wielding the Etherweave. A link to the House of Tannard, placing them beyond the Levenian line and outside the Salmun's control, persists in the north among the Razohan, thanks to witches loyal to the last king of the Bone Throne. That is the essence of being bloodborn: a child born with the power to wield the Etherweave, untainted by the Levenians and free from the Salmun's control," she continued .

Now I understood why Orphus openly refused to acknowledge my heritage as anything other than of the Levenian line. The council already balked at the idea of a queen's rule; what would happen if they discovered I was bloodborn?

"However, it is said that only one bloodborn exists," she said.

"Only one?"

She huffed, then coughed. I took her frail weight and waited for her to gain her strength again. "It would seem it's a falsehood."

"I'm not from the north."

She narrowed her eyes at me. "You know nothing of your heritage."

"I'm not beast-born. I can't shapeshift like they do."

"Yet."

"That's impossible," I whispered, pulling away from her, but she sagged, losing her balance, forcing me to come in close and take her weight again.

Tamas knew. From the beginning, he'd known who I was. That was the real reason he'd attacked our ship—not to assassinate the betrothed of the crown prince, but to eliminate another rival for the Etherweave and the Bone Throne. Yet he'd chosen to mark me rather than kill me. If any of this was true, it meant the extent of the rivalry between Tamas and me was bigger than I thought. And yet, even knowing the truth about me, he'd saved me. Repeatedly.

Tamas, where are you? I yearned to see him, hold him, tell him... I didn't even know what I would say. These revelations were too fresh; I barely believed everything I'd heard. And now, I'd lost Tamas to the northern realm. Was his witch turning him against me? Did he regret keeping me alive? I ached inside at the thought.

"According to the prophecy, one of the beast-born in the north, a bloodborn, would challenge the right to the Bone Throne."

"That's Tamas, not me."

"Who is Tamas?"

I shook my head, thinking fast. "A rival I faced in the Ashenlands during the fight. He's long gone."

Gusselan's lips thinned as she continued to stare at me. Under her gaze, my thoughts felt too raw and open for her to dissect.

"Your Majesty." Orphus appeared at the entrance to the temple sanctuary.

I gritted my teeth in frustration at his appearance and was about to snap at him to leave us alone, but Gusselan moved on, forcing me to walk beside her.

I fisted my free hand as I forced some calming breaths.

Mother, I need you.