Page 24 of Queen of Legends and Lies
Their tomfoolery is loud enough to catch the attention of everyone close by. Faces turn toward them, lighting up at the sight of the little girl swatting at the big burly man who’s holding her upside down.
“I’m not a mop, Uncle Ag. Don’t dunk me!”
I’m grateful for Agnar’s gift of levity in times like these. It’s so pure, so unexpected amid the ruin, that for a second, I let myself smile. “That’s too bad.” I brush the ash from my skin, though it’s a pointless attempt. “If you were a mop, I could get cleaned up too.”
“Perhaps she’s a feather duster?” Agnar flips Rose over, holding her horizontally with both hands. “Here, let’s see if she can be of help.”
Before he can pretend to drag her tangled blond locks over me, a voice rings out. “Agnar Kerrin!”
“Oops! I made your mama really mad. She used both my names.” Agnar sets Rose down next to him, vigorously wiping her head. “Well, hey there, sis. Didn’t see you.”
Quinn Lockwood raises an eyebrow. Her expressive brown eyes sparkle with worry, and her strong arms sport blisters from battling the blazing inferno. Nearly as tall as Agnar, his older sister shares the same coppery hair as her brother.
Rose, using both hands to push her hair out of her face, giggles up at her mother. Her tear-stained cheeks are plump and pink, and her eyes dance with laughter. “Mama, Uncle Agnar?—”
“Was using you as a mop again.” Quinn puts one hand on her hip, shaking a finger at Agnar with her other. “I’ve told you, if you want to borrow my mop, you need to ask me first.”
Agnar throws his hands wide. They all flounce off, though they don’t go far.
Bastian walks up carrying my now-soaked travel satchel. “Imagine my surprise when I found this flung against a nearby wall. Care to tell me where you were going?”
My chest tightens with anxiety and resolve. Might as well confess the truth because my brother will just figure it out anyway. “I was planning to go back to Flighthaven.”
His hazel eyes, so much like mine, narrow with disapproval. “Alone?”
I bristle, frustration simmering within me. “Yes, alone. Because nobody else seems ready to do anything.” The words come out harsher than intended, but I’m beyond caring.
“Charging off on your own is reckless, Lark. You know Knox is surrounded by enemies.” Bastian’s patient tone only grates on me, adding fuel to the fire of my exasperation. “Look at what happened the last time. You had help and a plan, and we still almost died. And it’s so far away, no one would be able to reach you in time if something went wrong.”
He’s right. That still doesn’t make staying here and doing nothing any easier. “I understand that. But what else can I do? Sit around and sip tea while the gods know what happens to him?” My hands clench into fists, nails digging into my palms.
“Your life isn’t yours alone anymore.” The disappointment in his eyes stings. “You have responsibilities toallof Tirene.”
“Responsibilities.” I spit the word out like it’s poison. “Is that all I am now? A vessel for everyone’s expectations?”
Bastian’s mouth tightens and then parts, like he wants to say more, but Vicar Moise approaches with the rest of the council trailing behind him like a flock of ducklings.
Of course they’d come right back to me, like a cold I can’t shake.
“Your Highness, we must reconvene to discuss this tragedy.” Serle wrings his hands together, his mouth drooping with worry.
“Discuss and plan and discuss some more.” I already dread the stifling air of the Council Tower.
“Yes, discuss how this could’ve happened and continue planning your coronation.” Vicar Moise manages to look down his nose at me even as he nods. “The ceremony is tomorrow morning.”
“Great, just what I need. More pomp and circumstance while Sterling—” I stop myself, pressing my lips together. I can feel their judgment, their impatience.
Some are concerned, like Alannah, who steps closer and touches my cheek with a softness that nearly breaks me. “I know you’re upset, Lark. As you have every right to be. But you must pull yourself together to lead your people. It’s vital we understand what we’re dealing with.”
Her words echo the others, but the glint in her eyes fills me with suspicion that there’s more she’s not saying.
Rafe snorts in disgust as the council members leave me standing amid the smoldering ruins with Bastian.
My brother squeezes my shoulder, then turns to Leesa. She leans on him, weariness carved in her face. Though she never complains, I’m worried she still hasn’t quite recovered from her corruption. Nearly freezing to death at Flighthaven afterward certainly didn’t help. Without another word, my siblings move away to help with the cleanup effort.
Their departure feels like an accusation, a reminder of my solitude here. And yet, as they fade into the crowd, I’m sure that I’m right where I need to be.
I’m standing in the wreckage, the burden of what’s to come weighing down on my shoulders like the heat from an unforgiving sun, when Eldor approaches.
