Green Wild: Thrones of the Firstborn, #2

By Chrysoula Tzavelas

Princess Tiana has discovered the identity of her family's ancient enemy, but that's only the beginning. Now she must find three gods scattered across Ceria and convince them to lend her divine power. An already momentous task is complicated by jealous fiends, squabbling siblings, and a demigod who seems more interested in games than salvation. 

Meanwhile, her elder sister Queen Jerya struggles to mobilize the armies of Ceria against the Blight. But politics, shady ambassadors, and assassins stand in the way of the military support and royal leadership her country so desperately needs.

Can Jerya stay alive and regain control over her kingdom? Can Tiana survive the Green Wild?

• Language: English
• Publisher: dreamfarmer press
• Release date: Apr 27, 2019
• ISBN: 9781386474173

Chrysoula Tzavelas

Chrysoula Tzavelas went to twelve schools in twelve years while growing up as an Air Force brat, and she never met a library she didn't like. She now lives near Seattle with her family. In between working on her own stories, she freelances for video game projects and homeschools her eldest child. When she's avoiding work, she plays mobile RPGs, creates digital art, and watches anime. Her favorite authors include Jane Austen, Georgette Heyer, Terry Pratchett, Guy Gavriel Kay and Iain Banks.

Book preview

Chapter 1

The Shadow of the Mountain

IT’S ALL RIGHT. We’ll be all right, the Crown Princess Jerya told her cousin, and held her hand. After hours of rumbling and shaking and terror, the mudflow had finally stilled. The mud lingered, though, pressing against the walls of the Royal Palace. Starset Tower, where Jerya and her cousin sheltered, had been built within her lifetime by one of her brilliant uncles. It endured even as older spires crumbled.

Lightning crackled through the sky, so close she could feel a tingle on her skin and smell the burning air. We may have to get away from the lightning, though, she added. I don’t think our uncle built Starset to resist strikes like that.

It rained, but the ash from the mountain fell too, mixing with the rain. It looked like black tears. Bleakly, Jerya approved. Her father had died only a few hours ago, along with she didn’t know how many of her people. She and her cousin had used what magic they could to save them, but—

But best to think about their own survival now. The sky could cry; she couldn’t spare the time. I promise you we’re getting out of here, she told her cousin. As soon as my birds come home. As soon as I know.

Her cousin, an older woman in her thirties, curled around their only lamp and didn’t respond. She hadn’t spoken for hours, ever since the magical barricades she’d erected against the mud had failed.

Jerya stood at the window, anticipating the return of the eidolon birds she’d sent out, and stared at the mud below. Jumbled masonry and uprooted trees drifted slowly, bumping against the dome of the Palace Library and tearing chunks out of the wing of the Palace where her father had lived. North of the river, chunks of rubble drifted on a slowly moving mudflow that grudgingly parted around the towers her uncle had built: all that remained of a once-flourishing quarter of the city. A few smaller buildings remained standing at the edge of the river, darkness oozing inside homes and extruding itself back out windows.

She thought of the dead uncle who had built the towers. He’d be proud, she supposed. Then she wondered what more he might have done if he hadn’t died when she was a child, and if he and her father were together again and she couldn’t think about that anymore either, because the living needed her strength more than the dead needed her grief.

When the mud met the river, it dwindled, as if it had reached its goal. Beyond the river flickered many, many lights, as the evacuated survivors filled the streets of the south city, frightened but alive. She didn’t want to think about those who hadn’t gotten out.

Something fluttered in the darkness and Jerya put out her hand. A ghostly falcon, glowing gem-like even in the ashen twilight, landed on her fingers. It cocked its head at her and melted into her skin. What it had known, she now knew. What it had seen, she now saw.

The lights across the river told only part of the story. Scenes of chaos flashed through her mind’s eye: people struggling to return to the north side of the city and being restrained, people fighting to defend their homes from unexpected houseguests, screaming horses paralyzed by the crush, a brawl in a marketplace. Survivors on rooftops in the north city beyond her field of view, sobbing. And worse things, too, which Jerya absorbed with the rest and filed away to bring out later, when needed. When there was time.

Her eidolon falcon had not found her uncle Yithiere, the last of her father’s brothers, which loomed twice a problem. Yithiere could make an eidolon big enough to carry Jerya and her cousin away from the tower without risking the mud. But Yithiere was also one of the more dangerous members of her family. His magic was as powerful as his portion of the family instabilities. The family madness. If Yithiere decided the mobs of evacuees were a danger to his family, the chaos would become a nightmare. More of a nightmare.

Jerya shaped another bird, turning ashen rain into gleaming silver, and sent it to find another of her cousins. Seandri was no more powerful than she, but he kept calm in a way most of her family couldn’t. He and his Regent could handle Yithiere, but Jerya would have to move her cousin to safety herself.

She knelt beside Shanasee and shook her gently. The other woman didn’t respond. Her skin glistened and her eyes were squeezed tightly shut. Her body was too tense for her to be asleep. Jerya studied her before pulling her into a sitting position. After brief resistance, Shanasee let her.

Time to walk, Shanasee, Jerya said, pitching her voice as close to the tones of a Regent as she could. Shanasee moved her legs weakly in response. When her knees bumped the floor, she stopped.

Jerya revised her command. Stand up, Shanasee. Stand up and walk. I’m right here. This time, pulling heavily on Jerya’s hands, Shanasee stood. Her eyes stayed shut, her head still drooped, but she could walk. Just like Jerya, she’d spent most her life learning to hear the advice of a Regent no matter what state of mind she was in.

Thunder crashed around the tower, so loud that dust streamed from the vaulted ceiling. As the booming faded, a horrible creaking vibrated through Jerya’s boots. The whole tower shook, as if slapped by a giant. Jerya caught Shanasee in her arms as both women tumbled to the floor again, curling around her cousin like she was a child. Emanations of her magic flickered around her, ready to redirect any falling stones. After a moment, when nothing fell, Jerya uncurled and glared fiercely at the wall.

The tower of Starset was in perfect condition but the surrounding spires were not. One of them had just fallen against Starset. Towers weren’t normally designed to withstand things like that, like cities didn’t build with an eye toward giant mudslides.

Shanasee made a small sound and Jerya stood again, pulling Shan to her feet. Shanasee’s face turned toward the flickering lamp, even though her eyes remained closed.

Yes, Jerya told her. We must go. The light won’t last much longer. She should have brought a magical inscribed light. They lasted weeks. But she hadn’t been thinking clearly, hadn’t thought to spend the time looking for one. She wafted an emanation of power at the lamp and held it aloft that way, so she could guide Shanasee with two hands down the many, many stairs.

Shanasee made another little sound and shook her head violently. Then her legs gave out and she almost collapsed, pulling Jerya down with her.

No! said Jerya sharply. This isn’t how we survive. We keep moving. She yanked on Shanasee’s wrists and her cousin stumbled forward. Sending the lamp drifting ahead of them, she pulled Shanasee down the stairs and did her best to make sure they didn’t both fall. She couldn’t do anything about the way Shanasee banged into the curving wall over and over again. Her cousin’s terror of the darkness had driven her deeper into herself and it was all Jerya could do just to keep her from collapsing.

Her limited magic infuriated her. If she could make powerful eidolons, like her uncle, she could sling Shanasee across an eidolon mule. If she projected powerful emanations like her younger sister, she could float Shanasee down the stairs. She could float both of them across the mud to the other side of the river.

But Shanasee controlled vast magic. She’d held back the mud for hours despite her terror. Now she was lost, trapped in the darkness inside her head, and reliant on Jerya for her survival. Magic assisted, but in the end Jerya would get them out, not her magic.

They took a break on a landing while Jerya caught her breath and inspected some of Shanasee’s bruises. The light flickered again before she could do much other than verify Shan wasn’t bleeding. Then down they went again, down past the ground floor and into the old catacombs of the Palace of yesteryear. The dark, dusty hallways went all over the city, although she only knew the area immediately under the Palace. A small museum occupied one large chamber, and a promenade led along the many murals painted by previous generations. Couples liked it. But there were deeper levels, and longer arms where almost nobody ever went. Some of those arms stretched all the way to the river, and catacombs exits that weren’t clogged by mud. Jerya had seen a map once. Now she needed to remember it.

They passed by a dusty corridor that led to a staircase down. Jerya’s sister Tiana had wandered in the deepest levels not so long ago, and found a pendant that represented a puzzle that Jerya couldn’t solve until too late: until her father had been murdered, the pendant—and the phantasmagory—destroyed, and her sister caught in the eruption of the mountain nobody ever expected to erupt.

The last thought hurt her more than all the others. She mourned her father, she raged silently about the pendant, but she’d spent her life trying to protect her little sister from the grief that haunted their family. Now, thanks to the phantasmagory pendant being destroyed, she didn’t even know if Tiana still lived. She couldn’t even reach the dreamspace any longer, as if it had never existed.

Shanasee started shaking again as the lamp dimmed. When it went out entirely, she whimpered.

It’s all right, Shanasee, Jerya said quickly. It’s all right. I’m here. We’re all right together. Soon we’ll be out of here and we’ll go and find Cara. Then maybe we’ll find some lunch. Are you hungry? I’m hungry. I’d love a big slice of roast beef about now. Jerya spoke as quickly and as lightly as she could. She’d never provided the calming Regent chatter before, but if she couldn’t keep Shanasee moving, Jerya would have to abandon her in the dark for a time. After all Shanasee had done for their people that night, the idea horrified Jerya.

Without the lamp, the darkness in the catacombs bothered her. Jerya didn’t mind the dark like Shanasee did, but enough darkness had a weight all its own: stifling and hungry. The catacombs were usually empty and safe; abandoned only as centuries of floodwaters changed the shape of the rest of the city. Once she might have made a game of walking them blind, but that scared her now. What if the mud was seeping down from somewhere above? She wouldn’t even see it coming until she’d walked into it.

Holding Shanasee close, she projected an emanation ahead to feel the walls on either side. It was a cousin to touch: she could feel the solidity, the stoniness of the architecture. She stared at the faintly glimmering emanation, easily visible to her without any light. Those not of the Blood couldn’t see emanations nearly as well, if at all.

Jerya concentrated. With a rush of dizziness, she sent many emanations crawling over every surface they touched. When she opened her eyes, she could see what she’d already sensed: the catacombs for some distance ahead of her and a little behind her lit up as if rivulets of glowing water spilled over each plane.

Come on, she whispered to Shanasee, and started forward. The magic took some effort, just as physically supporting Shanasee took some effort, but staying still in the dark wasn’t an option. If the eidolon falcon she’d sent to her cousin Seandri returned with assistance, it wouldn’t be too soon. Until that point, they had to keep going.

Something rumbled ahead of them, vibrating underfoot. The emanations shivered in a ticklish way, but she didn’t laugh. Rumbling could be never be good when you were in an ancient hallway with an incalculable amount of stone and mud over your head. Tugging Shanasee after her, she hurried on. She had to know exactly what had happened before she could decide what to do next.

They hadn’t far to go. The masonry changed ahead and at the seam the stone ceiling of the old hall slumped against the floor, bringing the structure above down with it. A tangle of splinters and gravel and paving stones surrounded the enormous slab of fallen ceiling. Viscous black mud dripped down on top of the debris heap.

They couldn’t move past it. Even if Jerya could navigate around it, or shift it out of the way, she didn’t trust the rest of the hallway beyond. But instead of turning around, she stared at the black mud, illuminated by her emanation and the faintest hint of light from above.

Look at that, Shanasee, she said, remembering that she’d meant to keep talking to other woman. Look at that mud. It’s even getting down here. If we let it, it’s going to seep all the way to the museum and destroy everything there.

Shanasee started to shake again. Jerya shook her head and squeezed her cousin’s hand. Don’t worry. I won’t let it happen. She studied the debris around the great slab, before using an emanation to lift a chunk of wood and jam it into the gap through which the mud oozed. The light from above vanished, but the mud stopped too.

There, Jerya said in satisfaction. But Shanasee kept shuddering, even when Jerya put her arms around her. "All will be right. I’ll make it be all right. We just have to get out of here—"

The fragmentary remains of the eidolon bird Jerya had sent to find her other cousin flickered through the stone. The shards of power didn’t rest elegantly on her hand, but flew straight at her head, passing directly to her mind. Because the eidolon had been destroyed, she only caught fragments of what it had seen. Fragments, but important, terrifying ones.

The bird had found Seandri, but Seandri was far too busy to even notice. Jant, eldest of the family and Shanasee’s father, fought to return to the palace. He’d inhabited the Palace like a hermit crab in a very large shell for most of his life. He’d wouldn’t have evacuated if Seandri hadn’t carried him out at Shanasee’s request. Now he was desperate to return, because Jerya and Shanasee hadn’t emerged, and because his whole life was in the Palace.

Normally an old man wouldn’t be hard for a young man like Seandri to restrain. But Jant had been using family magic for more than half a century and he was throwing all he knew at Seandri in an attempt to break away. The last image captured before a stray emanation had destroyed the bird was Seandri raising a ring of dust around them as Jant’s fox eidolon snapped at Seandri’s stag.

No. The very last image was the face of a terrified evacuee girl, backing away from the conflict.

Jerya cursed and gave up on comforting Shanasee. "I dragged you into this, and I’ll drag you out again if I have to, so walk, Shanasee!" She tugged her back the way they’d came, back to an intersection and another possible exit.

Shanasee walked. But Shanasee’s stumbling blind walk wasn’t fast enough. They had to run. The disaster of Blood fighting Blood required running. But only dim memories of an unfinished map guided Jerya. She knew they walked toward the river now, where the tunnel had to end.

Shanasee’s steps slowed until at last even a firm, insistent pull couldn’t move her. Slowly, almost gracefully, she knelt down and curled up. Her clammy hand became as cold and heavy as a rock, but her forehead burned to Jerya’s touch. When Jerya pulled away from Shanasee, the sick woman didn’t notice or complain.

This is bad, isn’t it, Shan? Come on, Shan. Stay with me. She didn’t know what to do for Shanasee, except to find somebody who had more experience. She needed Cara, Shanasee’s Regent. She needed Yithiere. She needed blankets, light, a warm bed for Shan. She needed help and she needed to get out of here.

With a rush that left her dizzy, birds exploded out of her, some darting down the corridor ahead of her, some of them pressing their way through the ceiling in that way only they could. One of them stayed beside Shanasee, so she wasn’t entirely alone.

Her head still spinning, Jerya started running after her scout birds. She moved so much faster when not dragging Shanasee, even in the dark. She turned toward the river at the next intersection, turned toward the river again, and stopped. The scent of fresh air wafted from the other turning. It was the wrong way, but there the scent was as vivid as the rising sun. She hesitated, but only for a moment. Then she turned back to the path with the fresh scent. Somewhere in the distance behind her, she heard keening.

The tunnel with the fresh air zigged and zagged back and forth. Something squelched under her feet and the tunnel turned to reveal an ashen rainfall beyond corroded iron bars. Black mud sucked at her feet, and slid tendrils into the slime-covered stone circle that led from the tunnels under the city to the riverside. She could just see the Green Street Bridge, which told her the location: a small park she’d visited before. She’d noticed the old stone circle with the iron bars previously. She’d always thought it led into a sewer before, and wondered why anybody would bother to barricade a sewer. But now she knew.

The bars were far too close together for her to squeeze through. She rattled them, and then shattered all but one of her emanations and eidolons, pulling all the power she could spare back into her core again. Setting her jaw, she gripped the bars with both her hands and her magic, and twisted.

The effort exhausted her. It was far harder than sending small birds flying all over the city, or illuminating a dark room, or even supporting Shanasee through dark places. But if she couldn’t break the bars, she’d be giving up, and Jerya could barely comprehend the concept of giving up. The bars would bend and break before she would.

The bars bent, and one bar broke. It was enough. She squeezed through, scraping herself on the broken bar. She heard the rumble of a crowd over the noise of the river. Beyond the tunnel overhang she saw the rest of the bridge. An unruly collection of city folk gathered, facing a single man with spectral lightning dancing between his fingers.

Jerya had been worried and anxious before but actually seeing her uncle Yithiere on the verge of attacking their own people jolted terror down her spine. She leapt forward, heedless of the blood dripping down her arm, and shouted, Uncle! I need you!

Yithiere whipped around. Her father’s younger brother was a tall, lean man with untrimmed hair and badly in need of a shave. He looked her over, and then turned back to the crowd. Jerya. I’ll be with you as soon as I convince these people where their best interests are.

Uncle, Jerya said again, making a voice a lash. Yithiere. I need you now. Attend to me.

Slowly he turned to her again, his cold gaze becoming questioning. Jer?

I will convince our people, she told him, as calmly as she could. "You must go into the tunnel below us and fetch Shanasee. You must do this now, because she has spent all her strength saving these people and now she is sick." She made sure her voice carried as she spoke.

Jer... Yithiere said, and he made sure his voice didn’t. They are dangerous.

So are we all, uncle, she told him. Where are Iriss and Gisen? He’d taken responsibility for moving her own comatose Regent and her youngest cousin to safety.

He bowed his head. Safe, was all he said. He walked past her, off the bridge. She looked after him for a moment, wondering. If her uncle said somebody was safe, they were either safe, or they were dead.

Then the mob drew her attention. No, not a mob. Just a crowd of unhappy people, driven from their homes by a nightmare. A man held a sobbing woman close. Another woman in a ragged dress clutched three children. Two young people her sister’s age clung to each other. She stared at them for a long moment. They stared back. Then, as their voices rose with their pleas and demands, she wiped the rain from her face and started the task of calming them.

Chapter 2

The Regent of the Blood

THE ROYAL BLOOD didn’t like to admit it, but the mountain of Sel Sevanth and its Citadel of the Sky was its own political entity, a nation within a nation. The little red flower the Citadel processed into the catalyst for magic grew nowhere else. Whoever controlled the mountain controlled the magic of the Logos.

But the Logos couldn’t touch the Royal Blood’s native magic. They used it to control the approach to the mountain. No army could take the Citadel of the Sky while the Blood held Lor Seleni at its base.

Of course, the clever found other ways of getting into the Citadel, thought Lady Lisette, Royal Regent. Sitting alone at a table in the communal dining room within the Citadel itself, she sliced a pear and drizzled honey over cheese. She kept an eye on the ‘pilgrims’ from the neighboring country of Vassay as they ate their dinner, too. They understood the alliance between the Citadel and Ceria’s Royal Blood. And they understood alliances could be changed. They were as dangerous in their own way as the dragon that had attacked the Citadel in the pre-dawn after the holiday Antecession, when so much had changed.

Lisette, noble-blooded, served the Regency. As a Regent, she stood between the madness and power of the Blood, and their own people. She knew how dangerous the Royal Blood could be. She’d studied them, past and present, for the last ten years, after all. She respected the Regency. The system had worked for hundreds of years. And she loved Tiana as her best friend.

But apparently not everybody in the Regency thought the system worked, Lisette thought darkly. The ‘pilgrims’ acted like an embassy, without shame or secrecy. Lisette couldn’t be sure, but she suspected they’d come at the secret invitation of the King’s Regent, before he’d died, weeks ago.

Their leader smiled at her, as if she shared their goals. She gave him her most practiced smile back, and tilted her head as if she wanted to speak with him. She did want to speak with him, very much, so she could discover whatever he thought she knew.

He stood, and then looked over her shoulder, affected an overly casual stretch and sat back down again. A moment later Tiana sat down beside Lisette with a thump.

She put Jinriki, the great sword she carried carelessly in one hand, on the table between them, took a pear of her own and bit directly into it. Her hair needed combing and her simple woolen dress skewed lower on one shoulder than another. Lisette reached over the sword and tugged one side of the dress up.

Oh, thank you, said Tiana, and looked around the dining hall. Her gaze passed right over the Vassay group, as if they didn’t matter to her at all. Then she inspected the table again: fruit, cheese, pastries. This is dinner?

Lisette smiled, for real this time. This is dinner. Nobody has time to cook right now, Tiana. There are wounded people, and structural instabilities, and Jinriki destroyed dozens of Logos workings on the walls and mountain.

Well, yes, said Tiana, looking discomfited. But this is more like... dessert. Where did all the cakes come from? And, look, a bowl of reception cookies. She grabbed one and cracked it open, but no little scroll fell out.

It’s the day after Antecession, too, Lisette pointed out. Sweets are traditional.

Oh, said Tiana. Yes. Was that only yesterday? Her gaze went far away and Lisette knew the sword spoke to her. She ignored the blade between them with practiced grace, but she couldn’t forget about it.

Jinriki the Darkener, it—he—called himself, and she had extremely mixed feelings about the fiendish blade. He hurt those he disliked, he dominated the weak, he fought back violently against being held by anyone he didn’t choose, he broke things, he threw power around wildly and he had nothing resembling ethics. But he was very much like a person, bound by limitations and shaped by loss she could barely imagine. Once, briefly, she’d seen those limitations intimately.

Tiana’s attention snapped back to Lisette. Anyhow, where’s Kiar and Cathay? We need to plan.

Lisette didn’t rush to answer, taking her time to slice a fondant covered cakelet into quarters. They’ve been helping with the recovery effort. Everybody’s coming by to eat though, so I’m sure they’ll be here soon.

A guilty expression flashed across Tiana’s face. Should I have stayed awake to help, too? I was so tired.

Calmly, Lisette asked, Do you feel like you have something to prove? When Tiana hesitated in answering, she added, "I don’t feel bad for resting. Your sword is an exhausting burden to carry, even only for a short while." Her body still ached from what Jinriki had put her through when he’d borrowed her body to speak to Tiana.

Tiana frowned. It isn’t like that for me. She glanced down at the sword and added, Oh. He says it’s because he doesn’t fit you like he fits me. Because of what that monk did when he passed him on to me, I suppose.

Just so, agreed Lisette, despite how disturbing that sounded. It took training not to shiver. Instead she ate one of the cake quarters and gave Tiana one of the other ones, while she studied the sword.

Wicked fangs jutted out near the guard of the long, jagged blade. Those fangs moved when somebody took unwelcome liberties handling the sword. They could bite. But the sword also invaded minds. Twice now, Jinriki had opened Lisette’s mind like a cupboard door. The first time, it had been attacking her—punishing her for interfering with Tiana’s attempt to go fight a monster alone. The second time, it begged for her help so it—he—could talk to Tiana despite the disintegration of their magical bond. Lisette had shared the thing’s black despair and felt sorry for him, even wanted Tiana to save him. That momentary sympathy was all the sword needed to steal her body and throw her into an icy-cold pool.

Ooh, dessert, said Prince Cathay, as he stopped beside the table with Tiana’s other cousin. Just what we need, Kiar.

Lovely, said Lady Kiar, a tall young woman with the dark cinnamon skin of the of the Blood but the pale hair of a commoner. It spiked around her angular face in short tufts. As she slumped down into a chair, the stink of her sweat wafted over. Lisette made a note to at least make sure Kiar took a bath later, even if she couldn’t make her rest.

Cathay sat down more gracefully, smiling tiredly at Lisette and Tiana. He was a typical specimen of the Royal Blood, with thick black hair and the Blood’s delicate features. Even more than Tiana, he resembled any number of faces in the history books. Handsome, athletic and brave, he could be a romantic young lady’s dream prince. But he’d chosen the path of a rake.

Alas for any young ladies with romantic dreams, thought Lisette wryly. Cathay had stopped at her bed while working his way through the Court and she’d enjoyed the attention. Not in any romantic sense—Regents were not allowed romance—but the experience had been.... educational. And adventurous.

Tiana bounced in her chair. Come, eat something. We have to plan. I’ve been thinking about which of the lights to go after first.

Lisette offered Kiar and Cathay the two remaining cake quarters. Kiar took one. Thank you. What do you mean, Tiana?

Tiana bit her lip, looking between the three of them. You all saw what happened, right? When all the Citadel magic went away? After the lights went out?

Cathay said cautiously, I saw something, right before we were yanked into the phantasmagory. I didn’t know if it was real or not. I know that damn sword did something. He gave the blade lying between Tiana and Lisette a malevolent look, and then winced and lowered his eyes.

Tiana glanced between Cathay and Kiar anxiously. Niyhan manifested. Well, some part of him. I saw a great throne made of blue light, and all the voices of the monks blended together. He gave me the light. I think it’s part of a weapon, and if I can find the other three lights, we can use the weapon against the bastard who attacked my father.

Okay, said Cathay. How do we catch these other lights? He was too pleasant; Lisette could tell he doubted Tiana’s story.

Frowning, Tiana said, We have to go... somewhere. To where the lights are. Then the Firstborn will give it to us.

Somewhere, repeated Kiar dryly.

Defensively, Tiana said, I can feel the lights pulling on me. It’s real! It’s almost overwhelming but Jinriki is damping it down for me.

Cathay’s pleasant demeanor cracked. I don’t trust anything to do with that sword. He glanced at Lisette, as if hoping for backup, and Lisette gave him a little shrug.

No, she’s right, something happened to her, said Kiar. She’s got something new. She understood the Holy Mountain’s eruption before I did.

When the light rained into me, I could feel everybody breathing, said Tiana, her voice odd.

Kiar glanced at her before going on. But even though I think she’s right about the Firstborn giving her a weapon, I don’t think we should go haring off without any idea where we’re going. There’s too much else going on.

Nothing else is important as this, said Tiana, setting her jaw stubbornly.

Cathay said, Tiana, the King just—ouch! He looked at Lisette in puzzled confusion. Why did you kick me?

Lisette stared back at him, her eyebrows raised innocently. After a moment, Cathay’s gaze slid around the public dining room. Oh. Guess we’re not talking about that yet. Well, anyhow, a Blight is pouring monsters into Ceria not a week out from Lor Seleni, Tiana. We have responsibilities.

Kiar blew out her breath. The proper action is to go back down the mountain and support Jerya and make ourselves available in the defense against the Blight. But I think it’s a better idea to stay here.

Tiana stopped glaring at Cathay to stare at Kiar in bewilderment. Here? Why?

Blight. Other crises, said Kiar shortly. We absolutely can not afford to lose the Citadel now. Her gaze drifted toward the Vassay contingent.

Scornfully, Tiana said, As if the Citadel would betray us now, when I’m carrying the light of their Firstborn.

Kiar ground her teeth. "I’m pretty sure the Blighter is going to attack the Citadel again. If we’re not here to defend it and other people are, that’s not going to be much better than nobody defending it at all."

Well, that’s why we need to go get this weapon as soon as possible, Tiana pointed out, spreading butter on a scone.

"Fumbling around the countryside following a vague sense? There are books here, Tiana. Books with real information. I found out the Blighter’s identity here, in a book. Your damn sword couldn’t even tell us that."

Bring some books along, suggested Tiana, her voice becoming brittle. They’re portable.

Lisette exchanged glances with Cathay. Kiar and Tiana bickered sometimes, but usually it didn’t go anywhere serious. But after last night, Lisette didn’t know what to expect. The Blood’s usual retreat had been destroyed, Tiana had watched her father murdered, and a divine power had poured itself into the princess.

Lisette remembered the blue light, and the chant of the Citadel monks. She hadn’t understood any of it, but part of her training as a Regent involved remembering the strange things said around her. She wrote a report for the Regency Council before she took her