Page 95 of A Song of Ash and Moonlight

I didn’t know the answer to that question, couldn’t even fully wrap my mind around the complexities of it. Instead I held my ground, staring at the Warden until she finally relented with a nod.

“A fair exchange indeed,” she replied, still amused. The condescending note in her voice made me want to scream.

I watched her glide back to the priory. Her tracks carved a faint line through the dew-soaked grounds, the slick carpet of pine needles. The grass, the trees, every bit of green here near the Mist was always wet. Mara had said in one of her earliest letters home that she thought this was because the Middlemist was lonely, that it missed the gods who had made it and cried its grief upon the world every day.

And what did the Mist think now, I wondered, with the daughters of a god so near? Had it always recognized, from the first moment Mara set foot in the priory, the true power lying dormant in her blood?

“Is that what you came here to do?” Mara asked hollowly, still not looking at either of us. “Tell the Warden about the queen, the draft?”

“Yes,” I answered sharply, just as Gemma said, “Yes, but—”

“Butwhat?” Mara sounded tired.

“I think…” Gemma paused, glanced at me. “I think we should all return to Wardwell. Not forever,” she added hastily, “but…for a few days, at least. We know very little about what Mother—Kerezen—canactually do in her current form. We should let her teach us, apply her strategies to our own powers. Think of what we could learn, how we might be useful to the queen—”

“Absolutely not,” I interrupted.

Mara’s expression was unreadable, her gaze distant. “I can’t leave right now, Gemma. The Order needs me. Maybe when things become a little calmer…”

Gemma threw an exasperated look my way. “But Farrin, don’t you think it’s wise to learn more about—”

“No, I don’t,” I said, cutting her off. The specters of my disastrous childhood concert, the echoes of the audience’s desperate cries, whispered meanly in my memory.Farrin, marry me. Farrin, I need you!“Whatever we just did down there? I don’t want to know a thing about it. I want it to stay deep down inside me and wither away. I certainly don’t want Philippa to make it stronger. What Idowant is to go home. Our presence there will reassure everyone—the staff, our tenants, the nearby towns. We headed straight from the capital to Rosewarren. We didn’t even stop for a moment to check in at the house. I should have insisted on it.” The fresh guilt of this threatened to smother me. “Has Lilianne been taken? Has Gilroy? Byrn? Mrs. Seffwyck?”

Gemma blanched at my sharp tone. I was glad. Anything to knock Philippa out of her head.

“Anyway, that’s where we belong,” I said, “not running away to play at magic with a god too afraid to show her face when her people need her.”

Mara looked keenly at me. “Are you talking about a god leaving her people or a mother leaving her children?”

For a moment, I was too stunned to reply. Then came a fresh wave of anger. “If we can’t criticize you for the atrocities you and yoursisterscommit here,” I said, very low, my voice thin as a blade, “thenyou have no right to criticize us for what we endured when you were already well and gone. You know what it’s like to be taken away, I’ll grant you that. But you don’t know what it’s like to beleft.”

And I did leave her then. I left both of them.See this, Mara?I thought.Feel that pang in your chest? That frustration, that anger? Imagine that, but a thousand times more painful. Imagine living for years and years with that storm raging inside you, and no end in sight, no relief.

I didn’t know if Gemma would follow me, and I didn’t care. I marched across the priory grounds, ignoring the chaos of the training yards, the Roses riding off into the Mist with their familiars scampering or flying alongside them. I could think of only one thing:home. That was where I was needed. That was where I could be of use. Not torturing harpies or appeasing cowardly mothers who scarcely deserved the title.Philippa.I said her name until the wordmotherdisappeared from my mind.Philippa. Philippa.She was nothing more than that.

I reached our family’s greenway, hidden behind its curtain of beguiled, chiming snow-blossoms. A cardinal darted out of the blooms at my approach, brilliant red against the white petals. The sight of its feathers reminded me suddenly of Ankaret, and I realized with a hot prickle of shame that I wore her feather tucked into my dress, as had become my habit. Its presence was warm against my skin, a comfort I’d quickly grown used to. And yet I hadn’t thought to use it to call for help. Ankaret could have freed Nerys, could have reduced the Warden’s weapons to ashes.

As I pushed past the tinkling snow-blossoms, Ankaret’s bizarre, inhuman voice cooed in my memory.Someday you will need her. Use this to call her. She will hear you, wherever she is.

My head was heavy with all the things I could have done and all the things I shouldn’t have. I sent a bitter prayer to the gods—Keep Gareth safe—and let the greenway’s magic carry me home.

Chapter 20

When I arrived at Ivyhill, I felt as if months had passed since I’d last set foot in the house, though it had been only three days. The moment I stepped into the entrance hall, the tight knots in my chest unraveled. I listened to the afternoon sounds I knew so well: the autumn breeze rustling across the golden lawn, the distant whickering of the horses being worked in their paddocks, the faint clatter of tea being set in the dining room.

This was where I belonged. Not Rosewarren, not the Citadel, not Wardwell. Here. Ivyhill.

Gilroy came out of the dining room just as I started across the entrance hall. At the sight of me, his stern countenance melted into one of stark relief. He set down his tray and hurried toward me, hesitated, then screwed up his face in defiance and pulled me into a fierce hug.

This was not the sort of thing Gilroy ever did, but I was glad for it. His stocky body was warm, his suit immaculately pressed. I held on to him, dizzy with my own relief. He, at least, had not been taken.

“My lady, it’s good to see your face,” he said gruffly. He pulled away and cleared his throat, tugging sharply on his waistcoat. “We’veheard some of the news from Lord Gideon, but…with you and Lady Imogen gone…”

He fell silent, clearly overwhelmed. The more emotional Gilroy became, the more his bushy black eyebrows turned down, as if a fearsome frown would help him remain unflappable when nothing else could.

“I’m well, and so are Gemma and Mara, whom we’ve just seen up at the priory. Gemma will be here shortly. She had some things to attend to.” Or would she disappear to Wardwell? I didn’t think so, despite all her grand ideas. Talan would come here if he needed help, and so here Gemma would stay.

The thought brought me a fierce, almost smug satisfaction. I should have been ashamed of the feeling, but I was too tired for further shame, my body still aching from Yvaine’s attack and my heart heavy. I took Gilroy’s white-gloved hands in mine.

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