Page 86 of Of Empires and Dust

As Glaukos recovered, Alina raked her staff along the ground and lifted loose dirt into his eyes. The big man fell, Alina’s staff resting against the back of his head before his knees hit the dirt.

She tapped his skull to let him know he was dead, then swung her staff backwards ferociously, bringing it to a sharp halt as Alcon’s staff pressed into her stomach.

She stood there like that for a moment, heaving breaths, sweat rolling down her forehead, her sodden tunic clinging to her body. Then she laughed.

Alina spat a glob of blood and saliva into the dirt, then grasped Alcon’s forearm and inclined her head in acknowledgment of his win before they both moved to check on Glaukos.

“They spar a little heavy,” Dayne remarked as he watched Alina and Alcon brush the dirt from Glaukos’s eyes. All three of them were bloodied and bruised.

“She needs to be ready if the empire comes for her again,” Lukira said. “She needs to train like her life depends on it. So do they.”

“Hmm.” Dayne nodded slowly as Alina and her guards approached.

Alina handed her staff to Alcon, whose arm was wrapped around Glaukos’s back, then embraced Dayne.

“Alina, I…” Dayne stared down at his sister, allowing his words to fade. She’d not shown him open affection like that since she’d first laid eyes on him upon his return to Skyfell. And she’d smacked him across the face not long after that. This display caught him off guard, and yet over the years, he’d done little but dream of moments like this, so he reached his arms around her back and hugged her in close.

After a few moments, she pulled away and stared into Dayne’s eyes. It took him only half a second to see that what had happened to Joros had shaken her.

“It’s good to see you in the flesh.” Alina touched her fingers against Dayne’s cheek, her lips curling in a smile. She nodded, then released him. “You succeeded then?”

Dayne had sent some of Mera’s Wyndarii ahead to carry news of the victory at the Lost Hills – if it could be called that. “We did. Seven thousand fewer spears pointed at us from within Achyron’s Keep. No prisoners. Almost two thousand horses, along with a string of wagons and plenty of weapons and armour to add to our stocks.”

Alina nodded. She had known Dayne’s plan to leave no survivors. She had agreed to it, begrudgingly. That was something he admired in her. It was the reason why Alina would make a fine queen: even those who turned their backs on her, she did not turn hers on them. But she also knew when to make the hard choices, or at least she was learning.

It was the empire that had wrought chaos, darkness, and loss in Valtara, but it was not blackened imperial bones that sizzled and smoked in the Lost Hills. Seven thousand Valtarans lay dead. Seven thousand of Dayne’s own people. In another life,they might have been fighting at his side instead of dying on his spear.

Alina gave Dayne an awkward smile, gesturing towards the sparring ring. “First to three?”

Dayne snorted, pushing the sombre thoughts to the back of his mind. “I think not.”

“Five coppers she puts him on his arse inside a minute,” Lukira said.

“I’ll take that.” Mera shrugged at Dayne’s glare.

“I’m not sparring you.”

“And why not?”

“Because I’d prefer to keep my dignity intact.”

“Good answer.”

“I’m assuming you didn’t send for me just to check I was alive with your own eyes?”

“No.” Alina’s jaw clenched, and she swallowed. She gestured towards a low rock set into the ground just past the sparring ring. “Sit with me?”

Dayne looked to Mera. She inclined her head towards Alina, who was already walking towards the rock. Whatever Alina was about to say, Dayne was absolutely sure Mera already knew what it was.

Alina grimaced as she dropped herself into the dirt beside the rock, leaning back against it. “Glaukos caught me hard in the leg. That’s going to hurt for a few days.”

“You moved well out there.” Dayne sat beside his sister, pulling his legs in and resting his arms atop his knees.

“Not well enough. I need to be quicker.” Alina rubbed the bruise beside her eye. As she leaned forwards, Dayne caught a glimpse of the sunburst tattoo on the back of her neck – the mark of a mother. The tattoo brought his mind to Baren and to the son that had been taken from Alina. His nephew. Another he had not been there to protect.

Alina rested her palms on her knees and looked up towards the crimson-hued sky, the Blood Moon hanging behind a dark stormhead in the distance. “I’m sorry, Dayne.” She turned her gaze to him. “I should have said it sooner, but I’m sorry.”

“Alina, you don’t have to?—”

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