Page 90 of A Song of Ash and Moonlight

“You see, Lady Farrin?” Thirsk said quietly. He’d come to join me at the windows. “The people demand action.”

Part of me understood what he meant and thought his judgment necessary. But I knew Yvaine would disagree, and the thought of her lying unconscious on a healer’s cot while such decisions were made without her made my stomach turn over. It was procedure, I knew; a hundred contingencies had been meticulously engineered over generations to prepare for a hundred different catastrophes. But the thought of Upper Army soldiers dragging so many women and girls from their homes and bringing them to the Warden for trials and training—tomorrow, perhaps, if Thirsk had his way—that was a horror I could not abide. Not now, not after what had happened. In one horrible day, everything had changed.

“What I see is fear and chaos,” I said, “both of which an immediatedraft will heighten. The city is tinder, and a draft will set it fully ablaze.”

I drew in a deep breath and turned to face him; Gemma held on to my arm, helping me remain on my feet. “We need time,” I told him, “and information. How many were taken, and from where? Did this abduction follow the same patterns as the first? Are all the taken Anointed, like the first time, or do some possess low magic, or no magic at all? What is the state of our armies, both Upper and Lower?”

Ryder, standing beyond Thirsk, nodded thoughtfully. “They will need to reconfigure their ranks, redistribute personnel to account for any losses.”

I agreed. “Information, Thirsk, is what we need most of all.”

Thirsk listened closely to us both. I saw his shoulders sag a little and knew we had won the argument. Perhaps part of him had been hoping we would.

“And what of the Warden?” he asked. “She will not take kindly to this delay.”

“Let us deal with the Warden,” Gemma replied, her voice hard. “She won’t bother you, Thirsk, not after we’ve spoken to her.”

Thirsk turned away and was quiet for a long time. “The queen trusts you,” he said at last, “and though she hasn’t told me everything, she’s told me enough.” He turned to look at me, his expression solemn. “I know she deems you important—all of you, and your sister at Rosewarren, and the demon named Talan, and…” He paused, a quiet beat of sympathy. “And the librarian.”

“Gareth,” I whispered, my heart twisting. Gently, Gemma’s fingers squeezed mine.

Thirsk nodded, then took a long, slow breath. “Therefore I will heed your guidance in this moment, though you’d be foolish to think I will always do so. I am not a cruel man. I do not relish the idea of tearing families apart.” He dragged a tired hand across his face. “I willsend out soldiers to survey the land, gather information, catalog our losses. But in two weeks’ time, if the queen has not yet recovered, I will enact the draft in her stead.”

Ryder shifted. “And if she is well?”

“I don’t imagine I’ll have trouble convincing her to agree with me,” Thirsk answered wearily, “not after what’s happened here today.” Then he gave me one last look—searching, worried—and left us three alone.

Gemma helped me back to the sofa. “We’ll go to Rosewarren, then?” she said. “Speak to the Warden, try to calm her? She’ll be furious about the delay.”

I nodded, wincing as I settled. Everywhere Yvaine had scratched me stung as if I’d been lashed with nettles. “And we’ll offer help as we can.”

“We’re not trained Roses,” Gemma said doubtfully.

“But we’re demigods, it seems, whatever that means. We can tear up forests and sing down queens. That has to count for something.”

Ryder looked entirely unconvinced by my wry humor. “You’re in no condition to help anyone, Farrin. Gemma can go to Rosewarren. You should rest.”

“I can’t possibly do that, not now. With Gareth gone, and…” I choked on my own sudden despair, shaking my head. Alastrina, and now Gareth, and so many countless others. “I’d go mad sitting at home, waiting. I have to do something. Besides, the royal healers will send me off with their best tonics and salves. I’ll be good as new before you know it.” I offered him a small smile. “And I’ll rest when I can,” I added quietly.

His mouth quirked, though in his eyes I saw true naked fear and freshly uprooted grief. “Promise me, Farrin.”

I reached for his hand, and he took it gently. “I promise,” I told him.

Gemma had already begun packing up my things, rustling aboutthe room in her shining skirts. “Before we leave,” she said briskly, “I’ll go to Heldine and tell her what’s happened. She should hear it from one of us.”

Ryder looked over at her. “Will she be able to keep working? Those things you saw in the crown’s shadows—we need to know more about them. An egg, a goblet, a key. A lake under a moon. What are these objects, and where? What are they made of? Are they other anchors of theytheliad?”

“Or are they simply nonsense images?” I mused. “Scattered memories of places the crown has been? A three-eyed crown is unique. An egg, a goblet…there are millions of those.”

“Oh, Heldine will continue working, all right,” Gemma said, “especially now. The trick will be to convince her to stop and eat every now and then. It’s a wonder she and Gareth are still standing, what with all their awful habits…” Abruptly, she stopped speaking.Still standing.Gods, I hoped he was, wherever he was.

“And you?” I glanced up at Ryder. “Will you come with us to Rosewarren?”

He shook his head, looking miserable. “I must go home. I’ve been gone for a long time, and my mother…” He hesitated, and in the silence I read a thousand sad things. It hurt my heart to imagine those dark halls—everything made of black stone, the cupboards and closets still shrouded with the memories of Ryder’s childhood’s darkest days. I put both my hands around his, pressing what little strength I had into his skin. He circled his thumb over my wrist and stood a little straighter.

“I need to see my mother,” he finished roughly. “And the north needs me. I’ll travel among the villages there, help as I can. Seeing my face, knowing I’m alive and well, will reassure them. It will be chaos, much as it is here, given everything that’s just happened, and the Mist’s borders constantly shifting…” He shook his head once more.“I’ll have to hope that whatever’s just happened hasn’t sent a new wave of monsters crawling out of the woodwork.”

“We’ll meet at Ivyhill in one week, then?” said Gemma. My bag was packed, sitting ready on the bed. She stood at the mirror, shook out her hair, efficiently tied it back into a neater bun. “Perhaps we’ll have heard from Talan by that time, though I don’t know what I hope he’ll tell us. Gods resurrected, gods still dead—at this point, I’m not sure which would be better. I only hope…” She bit her lip; I watched her reflection waver. “I only hope that Kilraith coming to the Citadel doesn’t mean he’s out there hunting Talan too.”

---