Page 82 of A Song of Ash and Moonlight

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The next morning, Gemma and Gareth left for the capital at dawn. Neither of them wanted to be at Ivyhill for a moment longer than they had to. Our dinner the previous night had been a sober affair in the wake of Father’s tantrum, and no doubt Gemma saw echoes of Talan wherever she went.

While Ryder worked with Jet at the stables, I busied myself with an endless list of tasks for most of the morning, determined not to think of either of my parents. Father had locked himself in his rooms upstairs, for which I was grateful. At least now the staff could cleanthe morning room. This was the single thought that ran coldly through my head on a loop, like a depressing prayer.At least now the staff can clean the morning room.

Then, at lunch, a letter came bearing the seal of the queen. I opened it with shaking fingers, expecting the worst: an edict of exile, a letter from Thirsk telling me that Yvaine’s illness had gotten much worse.

But the letter held only Yvaine’s familiar looping handwriting.

Dearest Farrin,

I’m writing this with Thirsk hovering irritably over my shoulder. In fact, he just let out a grunt of disapproval. But the important thing is, I’m feeling much better, and given that, I’ve been able to explain to Thirsk and my other advisers how furious I am with them for turning you away from the Citadel. I’ve shown them the error of their ways. You are always welcome here, and in fact I’ve drawn up an official letter, signed by all members of the Royal Conclave, that grants you and your sisters and your friends admission to the Citadel whenever you wish it. No guard will turn you away. Thirsk has reluctantly agreed that I am of soundest mind, and therefore neither he nor anyone else can in good conscience protest my decision. I hope this letter brings you some comfort. I’ve missed you.

And because I’ve missed you so terribly, I’m throwing a party the day after next to celebrate your return. You will come to my party, won’t you? And do bring Gemma with you, and Ryder too. His quick thinking the night of your poisoning saved your life, and therefore he is dear to me. And I suspect you would be glad to have him with you. What a fearsome beast of a man he is, and yet he held you so tenderly that night as you came back from the brink of death. I certainly understand the attraction. Bring him,then, so I might get a closer look at him and officially grant my approval.

Yours,

Yvaine

I read the letter with my heart in my throat, relieved and amused and yet feeling the faintest twinge of unease. I hurried out to the stables and thrust the letter at Ryder before I could think better of it. I waited for him to read it, and when he was finished, his eyes lifted to meet mine, and a delicate thrill of nerves skipped down my back. Words from the letter had stuck in me, fluttering frantically in my chest like pinned butterflies.Attraction. Approval.As if Yvaine had looked at us and decided something that we ourselves had not yet put into plain words.

But I shook those thoughts away as best I could. The more important thing was the letter’s tone—a little arch, a little unbalanced. A slight thing, and yet it worried me.I’ve shown them the error of their ways, she’d written.I am of soundest mind. Brief, almost casual declarations woven through a letter that on its surface seemed innocuous enough. And yet reading it had left me feeling discomfited in more ways than one.

“We’ll go, of course,” I said. “Unless you’d rather return to Ravenswood? I’d thought you might, after being gone for so long.”

Ryder’s laughter was dark and quiet. He handed the letter back to me. “No. I don’t want to go home. There’s nothing for me there. I’ve left behind instructions for our staff, for our tenants. They know what villages to monitor, how to distribute aid when necessary. And Father, for all his faults, has never neglected those particular duties, so…” He paused, his expression shuttered. “No. There’s nothing for me there.”

I sensed he wanted to say more—Alastrina’s name hung unspokenbetween us, lonely and dear—but instead he turned back to Jet in silence, his shoulders high and tense, a shroud of sadness enveloping him. I hesitated; perhaps it was too bold a thing to do. But then I thought of Gemma rushing at Talan whenever she first saw him after he had been gone, showing him her unabashed, untempered joy. What a beautiful thing it must be, I thought, to receive love like that, to be able togivesuch love.

So I went to him before he had the chance to turn around. I wrapped my arms around him and held him close, burying my face in the warm, broad stretch of his back. I closed my eyes and through the press of our bodies tried to send him everything I felt, everything I wanted him to feel:I don’t know why your home makes you so sad, but I’m sorry it does. Wherever Alastrina is, your love for her will give her strength. I wish I could take your sadness from you, and your anger, so that you might know peace. Thank you for the way you looked at me in the morning room last night, telling me without words that I was safe, that I was brave. Thank you. Thank you.

Ryder’s hands came up to hold mine, pressed them softly against his chest. Beneath my fingertips drummed his racing heartbeat, matching my own.

***

The day of Yvaine’s party, Ryder and I traveled to Fairhaven using the greenway that for generations had connected my family’s home to the capital. This was not an occasion for pageantry, but rather for speed; both of us were tense and uncertain. What would we find at the Citadel? We would say nothing of Philippa, nor of Wardwell; knowledge of a resurrected god was our burden to bear and not Yvaine’s, not with her sickness, and the sinkhole roaring quietly in the Citadel, and the country still grieving its lost. But would she sense the truth nevertheless, and if so, what would she do with it?

The city was quiet, yet its streets felt restless to me, as if behind closed doors and windows roiled storms I could not see. Portraits of those lost still papered the Citadel walls, but no protesters gathered there, and only bedraggled petals skipped across the ground where before there had been piles of flowers. The city was tired; its exhaustion was heavy in the air.

On the western horizon, a true storm gathered over the choppy gray waters of the Bay of the Gods. The churning sky was green and purple, the line of the storm’s approaching front a startling blue gray against the autumn trees, which gleamed red and gold.Like Ankaret, I thought, then quickly put the thought out of my mind, lest the mere act of thinking of her could summon her to me. I hadn’t dared to leave her feather at Ivyhill; if it could truly bring her to our aid at any moment, with all her snapping fire, I’d be a fool to ever travel without it. And yet suddenly it felt careless to have come to the Citadel with such an item tucked into my dress. Would Yvaine sense its presence at once, demand an explanation? I had to hope that the feather would protect itself, remain quiet and hidden unless I decided to use it.

Guards ushered us into the Citadel and escorted us to the queen’s tower without issue. No advisers came to intercept us, bearing sobering news—the queen was in fact quite ill and could not be seen; the queen was dead; the queen had disappeared, abducted by whatever phantom evil roamed the land. The cavernous marble halls were eerily quiet; our footsteps, and the clanking ones of the guards escorting us, echoed like thunder in a lonely canyon.

But then we arrived at the tower, and the doors swung open as we turned the corner, as if Yvaine had been standing on the other side, waiting for us. Her receiving rooms were a riot of color. Brilliant purple silks hung from the rafters; luxurious velvet cushions of midnight blue and periwinkle lay scattered across the gleaming floors. There were revelers everywhere, most of whom I recognized: fluttering courtiersand gregarious merchants’ children, some of Yvaine’s favorite servants from the palace. Ostensibly this party was to celebrate my return to the Citadel, but no one looked up upon our arrival; they kept on with their singing and dancing, their drunken lolling by the windows thrown open to the evening. There was a giddy thrill in the air, a tremble in even the most jovial voices.The queen is not ill, she is well, and we are here in her tower as favored guests. There is nothing to fear. Everything is fine and good. Can you believe it?

“Darling Farrin,” Yvaine said. She gathered me to her in a whirl of white hair and ruffles of lilac chiffon, her breath sweet with wine. Her fingers were like claws, digging desperately into my flesh through the thin fabric of my plain gray gown. “I can’t tell you how happy I am to see you. Thirsk has apologized a hundred times for sending you away, but I’m not sure I’ll ever forgive him.”

I held her, noting with alarm how thin she felt in my arms, and how hot, as if she burned with fever. Each word she spoke was breathless and nervy.

I pulled back from her a little, searched her face. I saw the shadows under her eyes, her chapped pink lips. “How are you? Have you been sleeping?”

She dismissed my concern with a wave and looked past me at Ryder. She smiled to behold him looming there at the doors—bearded and scowling at all the merriment around him, looking deeply uncomfortable even though, in his blue-and-black finery, he was as grandly dressed as any guest of the queen.

“Lord Ryder,” said Yvaine, extending her hand. “I’m so glad you came too.”

There was no reason not to believe her—she had asked for him in her invitation, after all—yet I heard a slight edge in her voice. She watched Ryder with curiosity, her eyes sparkling, as he bowed his head to kiss her offered white fingers, each one heavy with pearlescent jewels.

“Your Majesty,” he intoned. “You honor me with your invitation. It is…” He hesitated, glanced around. His implacable expression gave nothing away. “It is a marvelous party, to be sure.”

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