Page 4 of Of Blood and Fire
He studied me for a second, then said, somewhat carefully, “What we can’t afford to have is our new queen and commanderflying out to investigate, and do not deny your thoughts were heading in that direction.”
A somewhat bitter smile twisted my lips. “You know me too well.”
“You have much of your father in you. The only difference was, he didn’t have a drakkon he could go flying off on.”
No, he had multiple boats and a great love for sailing. We couldn’t, as he’d have wished, take his remains out onto the sea and let him forever rest in the deep, dark waters he’d loved, simply because there were no remains left to gather. But when I was able to, I’d have his favorite boat sailed out to the deeper seas between here and Jakarra, to the spot where his boat had been damaged—a fateful event that had led to him sailing into Illistin and his first meeting with Mom—and scuttle it, sending the boat, his sword, and Mom’s bow to the sea’s loving arms. He would like that.
I blinked back the tears yet again and spun around. “I hate being blind—let’s go see this disturbance for ourselves.”
I strode out, doing my best to ignore the various aches that still accompanied any sort of movement right now. Even though it had become increasingly evident in the last forty-eight hours that one of the things I’dgainedfrom the spell that had given Kaia flame and forever linked our souls was her fast healing ability and strength, I was nevertheless beginning to fade.
Need to eat,Kaia said.
I will.
Today. Before we fly.
What makes you think we’re going to fly?
You curious. We investigate.
Depends on what I see, Kaia.
We queens. We go.
In your world, not mine.
You change world.
I half smiled.Yeah, I guess I will.
But I also had no doubt that, like the acceptance of the drakkons, it would take time. And for some, like Aric, there would be no changing. He’d undoubtedly attempt to install Damon onto our throne as overall commander the minute he got here, but that wasnotgoing to happen. Our marriage treaty had said we’d be joint caretakers if Garran—my father’s nominated heir—died before Damon and I had a son, and Aric was going to stick to that agreement even if I had to throw him in the fucking dungeons until he agreed. Which would not, of course, improve our relationship any, but right now, I was beyond caring.
Despite the early hour, the palace’s foyer was a hive of activity, with the various admin and logistics sections having taken over both it and the nearby smaller dining room, as well as my father’s “consulting” room, which doubled as the throne room when necessary. Even the stairs had been put to use, becoming a temporary storage spot for the multitude of files and whatnot that had been retrieved from the remaining remnant. The upper floor was also being used, though my family’s private quarters remained guarded and out of bounds.
I wove through the sea of desks, chairs, and people, acknowledging the latter with nods rather than salutes, then headed out the double doors and down the steps. The day had dawned gray and bleak, but it had at least finally stopped raining. The courtyard, like the foyer, was filled with people. Some were soldiers keeping watch, but most were those tasked with repairing the buildings that had sustained damage in the explosion. Even the stables to our left were under repair. Two coursers had been hurt when a corner wall had partially collapsed, but thankfully, Desta, my mount, had not been one of them. I’d subsequently had them all moved—along with any nonessential personnel—into the caverns that riddled these mountains. But as much as I’d wanted to, I hadn’t helped withthe move. Aside from it apparently being “unseemly” for the queen to be involved in such a task, the fact that I couldn’t talk to the coursers, couldn’t comfort them as I always had, would have been yet another reminder of what I’d lost.
Even if I would never regret what I’d gained.
The caverns were, of course, all well stocked and comfortably furnished—we’d been using them as shelters for our civilians for almost as long as Esan had been built—but if things went badly, they could also provide a safe means of evacuation for both man and beast. While we did have a secondary gate leading out into our farming and grazing fields—Esan had been constructed within a steep gorge known as the Eastern Slit, a deep, somewhat hooked chasm created during a long ago eruption that had ripped the mountain in two—there was little cover for retreaters there. Better by far to follow the many passages through the Black Glass Mountains to the grassland plains and head to Hopetown. Or rather, the cavern Hopetown’s people were currently sheltering within.
If the riders ever created enough of their acidic shit to melt mountains, we would all be in trouble.
Thankfully, that was the one thing my inner voice said was unlikely.
The metal steps on the opposite side of the courtyard that led up to the main entrance into the administration section were currently undergoing restoration, so I swung left and strode toward the set hidden by the shadows of the palace wall, taking them two at a time before following the gentle curve of the pockmarked wall-walk to the remaining building remnant. It had no doors—they’d been blown off in the explosion—but we’d rigged up temporary curtaining to help keep warmth in for those maintaining watch during the bitter, late-autumn nights. The guard manning the doorway snapped to attention then swept thecurtain aside for us. I absently returned his salute and stepped inside; Jarin followed me in.
Calling the room a remnant was actually downplaying its size—it spanned the full width of the wall walkway and was a good fifty feet in length. It had originally been nothing more than a storage room and had therefore possessed no windows. We’d had the mages refashion the stone to allow a long, narrow strip of glass to be placed within both the front and back walls, thus ensuring the soldiers manning the long viewers could reposition them as required. Having been a soldier myself—and technically, I stillwas, even if I was now grand commander rather than a captain—I’d also ensured that the room had all the necessities for a long watch. Things like heating, a means to make shamoke—a somewhat addictive but very pleasant hot beverage made with bitter brown beans and cane crystals—and stools on which to sit during the long hours of manning the viewers.
“Commanders,” the six soldiers said in unison, snapping to attention.
“You’ve spotted movement out in the wastelands?” I stopped in front of the middle viewer and moved the stool to one side. These viewers, unlike the portable versions all scouts carried, were permanently mounted on stands but could rotate to the left and right at a roughly forty-five-degree angle. They were also three times the size of the ones all scouts carried.
“Yes,” the nearest soldier said. She was tall and thin, with close-cropped brown hair and a rather ragged-looking scar running down her left arm. “Something was moving through the fog shield they’ve raised between the marshlands and the Barrain Ghost Forest. Can’t say with any degree of certainty what it was, but it’s big.”
“Direction?” Jarin asked, stepping up to the long viewer next to mine.
“On the southern side of the Hook.”
