Chapter 4

Chapter

Four

TRESSYA

Daelon still struggled with his loss. His cheekbones were now jutting ledges, pronouncing the hollow groove of his cheek, and his clothes fit loose. In profile, he remained a striking figure, but when he turned his face to me, I couldn't miss the wretched abuse that ravaged his heart. His once expressive eyes appeared flat and hollow.

Three weeks was not enough time to push aside the pain of losing someone you loved. Surprisingly, Andriet listened to what I'd said and kept his distance. As a spirit, his influence was limited, but I was sure he'd find a way to make his presence felt. The separation pained them both, but I felt sure Daelon would learn to live without Andriet before Andriet had time to get over his ex-lover.

I couldn't help feeling guilty at the thought. Maybe I'd been selfish in bringing Andriet home, but forcing him to spend eternity in the Ashenlands was a cruelty I couldn't bear.

"It's best to stay invisible," I warned Daelon as we sat upon our horses at the dock awaiting the Mother's ship.

"I'll do my best. But I'm yours, Tressya. If she threatens?—"

"Daelon. She's not like any other you've met before. Trust me. Men are useful instruments to her, nothing more. I know how to deal with her."

I lied, but I wasn't about to admit to Daelon that my stomach twisted in knots, and I'd woken with an erratic heartbeat. Of course I knew the Mother would come, even before I wrote. Her audacious plan had worked. Now all that was left was to shuffle the pieces around until everything suited her fine.

"I'm not afraid of this Mother Divine of yours."

I stared ahead, watching the small rowboat bring her closer to the dock. My wounded heart had betrayed so many, including me, making me believe I was strong enough to standalone outside the Sistern, but I wasn't sure if I could fit this role as queen without the Mother's guidance. I'd appealed to Gusselan, but she was yet to see my overtures as anything but manipulative. The Sistern had always been my foundation, my walls. I felt stripped of strength without its instruction.

I felt alone.

Not for the first time I thought of Tamas, thought of our time together in his bed before the war began, when I allowed myself to believe one dream of mine would come true. Yet one more ache, raw and brutal, stabbed at my heart, as my yearning for his touch throbbed like relentless drum beats through my body.

You na?ve fool.

I bit my bottom lip on feeling the thickening in my throat. How many times have I dreamed only to find I live with nightmares? I was fine with nightmares if it meant Tamas and I would fight them together. But that was not to be.

"I can't wait to meet the craggy beast," Andriet said from beside me.

I was being miserable again. It took me a moment to shake myself out of my melancholic thoughts. Thinking such things would not help me survive my new life.

I straightened on my horse. As a disciple, discipline was my life. Embodying the six pillars was my only hope of surviving.

I turned to Andriet, hovering beside my horse, and gave him an impatient look—I'd warned him to stay away, given I would ride with Daelon—but he ignored me and now he gazed longingly across to Daelon. Seeing the turn in his expression, his yearning, the open wounds of his heart, I stare back out to sea.

What wrong have I done in releasing him?

This was one more demonstration of how far I'd strayed from the six pillars. Discipline. Courage. Loyalty. The three pillars I'd lived by. Discipline to fortify myself against the weakness of a fragile heart. Courage to face what must be done regardless of the sacrifice. Loyalty. I'd betrayed the Sistern too many times to call myself a disciple .

I deserved no forgiveness, but I would ask for it all the same. I needed the Mother now more than ever.

Who am I to sit upon a throne?

Now I was the heir, Andriet lectured me senseless on all the legends relating to the Etherweave, but I was cautious with what I believed, aware the Salmun's teachings influenced Andriet's version. The one thing I couldn't dismiss was his belief in the Etherweave's return. And soon.

"Listen." I turned to Daelon. "This is your greatest secret."

With the rowboat almost at the dock, I could feel the tremor in my hands.

He nodded. "I know. I understood after the tenth reiteration."

"The Salmun?—"

"Can't know who she is."

"She's come as my spiritual advisor."

"I can't wait to play." Andriet attempted to clap his hands together, but they passed through each other instead.

"No. You can't," I snapped.

"Can't what?" Daelon said.

I shook my head. "Never mind. Just…please." I wasn't sure who I was speaking to.

Daelon reached across from his horse and took my hand. "It's all right. I know how to play the game. I've done it all my life."

I regretted glancing at Andriet, seeing the pain cripple his smile as he glanced at our joined hands, likely wishing he could do the same. Hopefully, it wouldn't take eternity for him to get used to all the losses he faced .

Mother, what have I done? With my insides in tight little knots over the arrival of the Mother, I couldn't cope with the emotional fog swirling around me, so I nudged my horse forward.

"Wait here." I meant both the living and the dead, but Andriet was unruly in spirit form and wafted along beside me.

Though out of earshot of Daelon, I still mumbled. "If I'd known you'd be so stupid, I would've left you in the Ashenlands."

"Liar. You love my interference. Who else is going to whisper sense into your ear?"

"Please, Andriet. You don't know the Mother Divine. You don't know?—"

"My sweet. I have spent my entire life within the Tarragonan court, and watched a silent war waged with truculent egos seeking to ingratiate themselves close to the seat of power."

"This is different."

"Your judgement is clouded because her arrival has made you anxious. You're a queen. And this Mother Divine of yours is sneaking ashore in disguise. That's how much power she wields in Tarragona. I ask why has she come?"

He didn't ask for me to answer.

"For the same reason, everyone else lies, tricks or kills to get close to the king, or in this case, queen," he answered for me.

Andriet was right in saying I couldn't see through my anxiousness. But there were too many twisting tales and heart pain I'd have to recount for him to truly understand what the Mother meant to me, what strength and power she'd given me to survive a life within the vicious court as a loathed illegitimate princess. I owed her my loyalty. I needed her strength while mine failed me.

A simple carriage pulled up at the dock to greet the Mother's arrival. Everyone at court would know her as my spiritual advisor and substitute mother, an acceptable disguise given my illegitimacy was well known.

"I should warn you, the Mother knows about my spiritweaving ability."

"Oh good. If I feel she's getting too high on herself, you can play intermediary between us."

"Never," I snapped, wishing I could punch him. "I don't want her to know you're here. You were meant to be a secret, Andriet. Our bargain, remember?"

"Tressya, my dear, you really need to release your secrets. It's time us spirits got to influence the living. Stars knows there's a lot who need a good kicking."

I tightened my hold on my horse's reins as I fought against using my ability to command him to disappear. "Honestly, Andriet, if she knew you were hanging around, she'd find a way to use soul voice to command you."

"I know the rules. I'm safe. You said soul voice is only for the living. And this Mother of yours has not a drop of Whelin blood, so she's not about to command the dead."

The traitorous disciple I was, I'd confessed my secrets to Andriet, knowing across the veil is where they would stay. It felt great to offload the burden of secrecy. Only now I wished I hadn't been so forthright about everything—everything except my dealings with Tamas, coward that I was .

"I wouldn't put it past her to find a way."

The small rowboat had disappeared behind the dock. I dismounted and handed my reins to a footman who was waiting to help the Mother into the carriage.

Andriet sucked in a breath. "Here comes the crone now."

Black was her usual attire, so the Mother's simple gown of deep blue, suitable for a woman of good breeding, surprised me. She wore a plain white headdress, covering her hair, but leaving her craggy face exposed to the sun's weak rays. Despite looking too advanced in years to walk unaided, the Mother shunned any offer of assistance and strode toward me, her bearing straight and strong just like her mind.

Though she'd yet to leave the dock, I could already feel the heavy weight of her stare, those dark eyes whipping me with judgement.

As she drew near, my knees bent, my first instinct to fold to the ground and kiss the emerald ring on her finger.

"Steady now, Tressya," Andriet warned me, understanding what I was about to do. "The queen gets on her knees for no one."

I straightened, but dipped my eyes to the ground in respect.

"There's a lot of eyeballs on you right now. Including the Salmun." Andriet continued to instruct me.

I sucked in a breath, forgetting about the Salmun. I'd argued with Orphus about my guard, not wanting the shadow of the Salmun everywhere I went. He'd relented with his snake smile, sending them in secret. The secret lasted no time once we arrived at the dock, the two Salmun positioning themselves where all could see when they knew it was too late for me to argue or send them back.

"A lot of tongues to recount tales of this exchange. If you want your Mother's true identity a secret, don't give anyone reason to question it."

I nodded, acknowledging his wisdom.

My eyes were still on the cobbles when her black boots came into view.

"Child." Her voice was as I remembered: a precipice over which the weak fell.

For a moment our eyes met, then to my surprise, she dipped into a curtsey, but only so far, feigning stiff joints and bad back.

I stayed like stone, feeling too awkward to move. Never had our interactions ever been like this. The Mother demanded subservience and obedience, a necessary discipline, only now our roles were reversed, and the Mother was expected to be subservient to me.

"Mother." It was all I could say, taking her hands in mine as a show of affection. "Your journey went well?"

Her thin smile was my signal to shut up.

"She's as warm as ice, I see," Andriet said from beside me.

"Come." I swept my arm wide, motioning toward the carriage, and, in my awkwardness, accidentally passing my forearm through Andriet's body.

As the stabs of ice speared through my skin, I recoiled with a gasp.

"Ooh, that did feel good," Andriet purred.

"Your Majesty," came the slippery voice of a Salmun. "Are you all right?" His hands were the only part of his body I could see. The skin discolored and wrinkled like old parchment.

Damn, when had he gotten close?

"I'm fine," I snapped, casting a side-eye to the Mother.

She remained still, eyeing me with one thin black-marked eyebrow arched high on her forehead. She knew. Damn her. The Mother was far too cunning to miss what a reaction like that meant.

"Go away," I mumbled to Andriet, with a lame attempt at not moving my lips.

"No way. Things are just getting good." He continued to pester me while I walked across to the carriage. "You never told me you could touch me."

"I can't," I hissed under my breath.

"Then what was that? Not a full sensation granted. But I felt something. Death will not be so gloomy."

"Andriet," I growl-whispered in warning.

"Don't worry, Tressya dear. I shall be wise with my newfound knowledge." He went to rub his hands together and failed, but he didn't notice. "We're going to have some fun."

It was like being squeezed between two rivals with Andriet taking the seat beside me and the Mother the one opposite.

"This is cozy," Andriet crooned. He'd sunk below the seat to his torso, but rested his hand on the seat, his arm threateningly close to my thigh.

I shifted my leg, trying to make it appear as though I was resettling myself after the jolting of the carriage as the horses moved off. Catching on to what I was doing, Andriet sidled up a little closer, while I side-eyed him.

Forcing Andriet's games from my thoughts, I looked across to the Mother and found her watching me intently, her thin lips almost disappearing into her mouth.

"Trouble?" she said.

"Mother?"

"The six pillars are your shield."

"Of course, Mother. Something I'll never forget."

She snorted. "All six? It seems you have decided to pick and choose those you wish to hold on to."

"I…" This was a test. "The one is useless without the others."

"Yet you deem to condescend to me," she bit in before I could say any more.

"Oh, she's good. A right little viper. She makes Radnisa look like a harmless lizard in comparison."

I couldn't stop the fluttering of my eyelids in frustration. "No, Mother."

Shut up. Shut up. Shut up .

"Tell me. How far have you progressed with the death arts?"

She knew. Dammit, Andriet . She knew a spirit was here. I dared not lie. "I have much to learn of spiritweaving."

"You're the queen, Tressya. Act like one," Andriet admonished me.

I relaxed my clenched fists on seeing the Mother's gaze settle on them. She was too sharp to miss my frustration, too smart to wonder why I couldn't sit still.

"It seems you have progressed farther and quicker than I envisioned." She glanced to the right of me, looking to where Andriet would be if he'd not sunk halfway through the seat.

"That snake. Do you think she suspects I'm here?" Andriet cried. "Oh, she's very good. This will be quite the challenge."

"I was surprised that you chose me," I choked out.

"Pathetic as you were, it was necessary."

"The wicked little fiend. I want to officially announce I don't like her. You're the queen. Tell her to mind her tongue."

I tried to shut my ears to the pest beside me. "What did you do?"

"What needed to be done?" As I expected, the Mother wasn't about to tell me anything beyond which she deemed necessary knowledge for her cause.

A good disciple never questioned, but after everything I'd done, I wasn't a good disciple, and I was sick of mysteries. "How did you…" I flicked a look at Andriet, then remembering the Mother's shrewd gaze remained on me, looked beyond him to the streets of Tolum, finding it easier to ask when not looking at the Mother.

"How did you do it?" The Sistern's power was soul voice, not wielding magic, which meant whatever the Mother had put inside of me was the help of a magic wielder.

There was a dearth of magic in Merania. An ancient yet dying skill in the death arts and an order controlling soul voice, but little else. There were the occasional traveling seers, peddling their fortunes for money, but none proved reliable, and few paid them any attention.

Magic was the only explanation for what the Mother had done to me. Secrecy and discretion, two of the pillars we lived by, was the reason for the Sistern's success, which meant the Sistern always acted alone, yet this time, I was sure the Mother had used an accomplice.

The Mother gave me another arched eyebrow, her lips thinning in displeasure, and I dropped my gaze to the floor of the carriage.

"Go on, Tressya. It's impertinent of her to dismiss your question like that. And what's with the death stare? Honestly, the woman needs a good shakeup."

I needed my calming breaths to get through this ride. Andriet bleating in my ear on one side of me and the Mother staring me into the seat in front of me, I wasn't going to make it to Emberfell sane in the head.

"The Salmun are expecting my spiritual advisor and…"

Dare I say the word? When I was young, my heart yearned for the mother I lost at birth, slotting the Mother in her place. Stone, ice and an implacable heart. That's what the Mother became to me, but also my protector, my liberator, the one to show me I could be more than the accident I was at birth. Those were her gifts to me in the form of the six pillars and relentless training.

I'd left the sentence hanging, and by her expression, the Mother was waiting for me to finish it.

"I said you were like a Mother figure to me. I thought it would explain your arrival."

She tilted her chin up. "Very well." And glanced away.

"I'd blunt an axe on this one, I'm sure." Andriet was not going to be quiet.

Since the Mother had finally stopped glaring at me and was now looking at the scenery, I darted Andriet a sour look, to be given a smile and a wink. Then he sat forward, reaching out a hand as if to touch her knee.

"No," I snapped.

With the Mother's attention diverted to me, I waved to the opposite side of the carriage. "This side is of more interest. That's Emberforge. The Salmun's temple."

"I know." There was a weight to her tone, a condescension burying me in my place.

I thought of another perplexing question about myself I wished to ask the Mother but feared doing so with Andriet beside me. He knew many of my secrets now, I shouldn't care, but anything linked to the Razohan felt sacred, and a secret I wished to keep as my own.

Besides, Andriet was adamant my connection to the Tarragonan throne and the Etherweave came through the Levenian line, his own bloodline. This belief stemmed from the prophecy he had always believed in, which stated an heir from the House of Tannard would rule the Bone Throne. However, he never once doubted or questioned which specific ancestral branch of the House of Tannard the prophecy referred to.

If what his mother had told me was true, that I was of the North, I wasn't ready for Andriet to learn of my true heritage, forcing me to keep one more secret from my dearest friend, adding to my guilt and shame.

I remained silent, making the rest of the ride uncomfortably tense. If it weren't for Andriet, who constantly teased me by shifting in his seat and repositioning himself—his arms or legs always threatening to brush against the Mother—I might have found some peace. Had I known how provocatively he would behave as a spirit, I would have left him confined to the castle.

"You have been inside Emberforge?" Rather than a question, it sounded like an accusation.

"Yes, Mother."

"And the Bone Throne?"

"I've seen it."

And, of course, any talk of the Bone Throne reminded me of the man I was with when I entered Emberforge. What had he felt when the last ruler to sit on the Bone Throne had passed through him?

"Aha, the serpent shows the true colors of her scales," Andriet shouted.

The Mother's stare was like nails. I pressed myself back into my seat with a gasp as Andriet leaned over me, waving a hand in front of my face, as if trying to distract the Mother's glare.

"Omissions are lies," she hissed. "You have secrets."

I shook my head.

"Go on, tell her, the old crone. Tell her if she doesn't show respect for your title, I'll tickle her insides until she pukes."

"Never, Mother." I shook myself, gritting my teeth, a warning to Andriet.

"Don't make me, child." Her voice slithered like a snake.

She was threatening me with soul voice.

"Oh how I long to see her eyes pop when my hand slips?—"

"I've summoned spirits." The words tumbled out. It was the only way I could think to prevent Andriet from touching the Mother. It was a confession I was reluctant to make, but I knew the Mother would expect me to eventually master spiritweaving, especially since she was the reason my skills in the death arts had advanced.

I knew my defense against soul voice, but that was my secret from the Mother; an irreparable disloyalty in my heart because I wanted to keep it a secret, just as I'd wanted Tamas to remain my secret—everything we'd shared remained cradled in a special place in my memory and heart.

"As was my intention. But that's not all you want to tell me."

"Tell her, Tressya. Tell the bitch that if she doesn't mind her tongue, I'll stuff my fist so far up her?—"

"There is nothing else, Mother."

"Don't let her win."

"The position you find yourself in is because of me, but it seems you have willingly forgotten that." Her voice was a blade, my soul word hanging on the tip of her tongue.

"Your charm, skill and courage placed you on the throne, and she's arrived to claim the glory. I'm sorry, Tressya, but I've had enough."

"No," I cried, then corrected myself. "…Mother." I lurched forward, following Andriet as he slid from beside me to hover in front of the Mother, blocking me unless I wanted to go through him.

The Mother's eyes flared at my sudden movement.

The small carriage gave me no room to maneuver with Andriet separating the two of us.

"You're right, Mother. So much has gone on since I arrived in Tarragona. It's distracting and confusing, and with Radnisa…" I sucked in a breath, unable to mention my greatest disgrace: that I had killed Radnisa, a fellow disciple.

My babbling and shouting were my feeble ways of stopping Andriet.

"Please, just…stop," I pleaded. I stared at the back of Andriet's head, and my eyes landed on the Mother.

She mustn't know about him. I wanted to keep everyone I cared about as far from the Mother as I could. There was no telling what cunning she would devise to take what was mine from me.

Her eyes narrowed on me before they flittered around the carriage. "You'll tell me now whose presence is here with us." Her voice was like a chilling wind blowing through a dusty hall.

"And you'll prostrate yourself before Her Majesty and beg forgiveness for your insolent tone." Andriet gave a breath. "You refuse to do so? I thought as much." And plunged his hand through her chest.

The Mother sucked in a breath, her mouth gaping wide, eyes bulging in surprise.

I smothered my cry, about to command Andriet to stop, but a traitorous corner deep in my heart thrilled at seeing her like this. And I would never slip up and command my good friend to my will.

"Where's that cursed tone now, old crone?" Andriet cried in triumph, twisting his hand around inside her chest.

" Aether —," the Mother cried, at the same moment I cried. "Stop," keeping the command from my voice.

"You're no fun, Tressya dear." Andriet sighed, pulling his fist from the Mother's chest. "She needed a good lesson. Look at her." He chuckled as he wafted back into the seat beside me. "She needed to know her place. And if you're not going to do it, my dear, then I'll make it my extreme pleasure to teach her."

The Mother sagged forward, gasping breaths. Because I was a fallen disciple, I took delight in seeing her like this, but it was wicked to do so. I had no integrity if I held no loyalty to the Mother.

The Mother lifted her head, her eyes sparking like fire. "It's a good thing I've arrived. I know how to restore your faith in the six pillars." She kept her voice low.

"That stunk of a threat. Perhaps a little more…" Andriet waved his hand.

"Of course, Mother." I intervened. "I'll devote myself to my training."

She straightened, checking her headdress remained in place. "You'll leash your pet. Or I'll do something about it."

"Pet!" spat Andriet.

"Yes, Mother."

I gave up hiding his presence and glared at him. As a spirit, he thought he was beyond the living world. But I was sure the Mother would find a way to manipulate him from across the veil.

"Never forget who you are, Tressya," Andriet continued. "But I understand the hold the old bat has over you. You've spent your life in devotion to the Sistern. Such loyalty is not easily dismissed. If it were, then there's little honor in your heart."

Shut up, Andriet . He wasn't making me feel any better after everything I'd done .

"But you needn't worry, my dear. The Salmun is on your side. Use them as your shield if the serpent continues with such impertinence. Threatening the queen." He huffed. "That's treason."

The Mother had made an enemy of a spirit free to roam where he pleased. There would be no stopping him from haunting her every move.

A wicked part of me delighted at the idea.