Page 6 of A Wrecking of Salt and Fire

Kora looked up at Katrin and nodded, pointing at the chaise across from her. Katrin sat down, leaning against the side of the turquoise velvet seat, knocking her arm up and resting her chin on her palm. Letting out a thin sigh, she forced a smile on her face. Kora always meant well, but Katrin knew she was about to get a verbal lashing reminding her of duties and obligations.

“Did you know, Katrin, that the King of Morentius was arriving today?”

“Did I know that Kohl’s father was expected today? No, of course not,” she drawled, her face going emotionless. “I just enjoy wearing these hideous colors for the thrill.”

Kora glanced up from the papers through narrowed eyes.

“Sorry, Mother,” Katrin huffed.

“Well then, did you also know that Kohl is currently with his father? Our scouts spotted his ships nearing the cove around dawn.”

“Dawn?” Katrin croaked out.

The three ships in the distance. Not fishermen, but part of the Morentian fleet. Katrin’s lungs shrunk. King Athanas was only known to sail at night if death was upon them. But they were not in the midst of war. At least not yet. Unless that was why her mother needed her so desperately this morning.

“Yes. Dawn. Which is why I requested you at breakfast, there is much to discuss before he arrives at the castle.”

Kora shuffled the paper’s together, signing the one that landed on top and shoved the pile into her top desk drawer. The desk was a wedding gift from Katrin’s father, Aidoneus, carved by the nymphs that lived in the Triad Mountains. Its sides were adorned with gold stars, the moon, endless rivers flowing toward Aidesian, the final resting place of all living beings. Her father’s kingdom.

Katrin rarely saw her father, since he was usually in the underworld tending to the lost souls of the isles. She was never allowed to accompany her father, for fear of getting entangled with one of Aidoneus’ many creatures of the night. Beings that would make even the strongest of soldiers cower.

Aidoneus alone would insight a spark of fear in all, the crooked grin he flashes, the lifeless look in his dark brown eyes. Katrin wondered if someday she would look like that too. If the darkness would enthrall her. If only those closest would see the light.

“I am guessing you wished to talk about the wedding?” Katrin bit her lip, a light twitch humming in her eye.

Kora walked over to the chaise and sat next to her, clasping her hands on top of Katrin’s. “Not exactly…” her words escaped in barely more than a whisper. “I know I am sometimes hard on you, it’s just—it’s just that I won’t always be around. That time is coming closer and closer with the passing days and I just wanted to make sure you had everything—knew everything—you needed before I was gone.

“The day of the Acknowledgement, I will be summoned and I will need to leave immediately. I will have to surrender the majority of my power to the earth so they can be reborn in you and trust me, my darling Aikaterine, you will need those powers when you rule. My only wish is that I know you are happy when I leave. That you will be safe, and taken care of—not that you can’t do that on your own.” Kora’s lips pursed into a thin line, her golden eyes glazed over with a watery film.

“Most of all, I need you to watch over Ember. I know you are barely older than her, but I now realize I coddled her far too much. I can’t bear the thought of her losing me and then being thrust into war. You have to promise me, when the time comes for battle you will not let her go, that you will keep her here with you. I don’t care if she leads the Spartanis, she is too young, too fragile to be put in the middle of the wreckage.”

Katrin squeezed her mother’s hand a little tighter. “I promise. Nothing will happen to her.”

“Nothing will happen to who?” barked a voice from the doorway.

Ember’s lithe frame and glowing features stood leaning against the doorway. Despite all of her sister’s sass and gusto, she was only twenty-three and far too unprepared for battle. Too pretty for anyone to take her seriously as the Prytan of the Spartanis, and too stubborn to admit it.

“Must I repeat myself?” Ember drawled as she wandered over to their mother’s desk, plodding herself down and kicking her feet up on top of a map still sprawled on the desk.

“You know, it is not polite to interrupt a private conversation between the queen and one of her subjects.”

“It is not, but when said subject is your other daughter, I find it impossible not to.” Ember flashed a grin, much like that of their father. Deadly. The one trait she inherited from him.

“I knew your father’s sarcasm would appear in you both someday, I just hoped I’d be long gone before it happened,” the queen laughed, and it was the first time in a while Katrin heard her mother genuinely happy. If only for a brief moment. “Katrin, remember what we discussed.”

Kora slipped out of the room, leaving Katrin to handle hiding what her mother asked of her.

Chapter Five

Ember

Wood creaked under Ember with each rock of the worn desk chair she sat in. Katrin and her mother were talking about her yet again. Talking about how she was not ready to become the Prytan of the Spartanis. Not that her avoidance of morning training, or obsession with dresses and hair styles over armor and swords told a different story.

She attended the best balls, flirted with all the men, focused on her history lessons and reading rather than dirtying herself practicing archery or swordsmanship. Then Katrin started training with Kohl, and Ember thought her sister might just take both positions. Queen and Prytan.

But that wasn’t how it worked.

The Spartanis was an ancient group of soldiers tasked with preserving peace and stability not only in Alentus, but the entirety of the Mykandrian Isles. They were fierce and damning in a way even the lethal soldiers of Morentius could not be. There was only one rule. When a new generation took the throne, the second born would take their place as Prytan. The leader. An old rule, an outdated one at that, yet tradition was the backbone in Mykandria, especially in Alentus. Without tradition, their mother always said, culture crumbles.

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