“What did he say?”
“That Uncle Vesryn died a hero.” Her big blue eyes dipped down. “I mourned him, but…but the way he died. They say…” She looked up again. “They say the Dread is back. That’s how Uncle Vesryn was killed. Fighting him. And Father and Elyon were there as well, but they lived…” Her voice weakened. “I heard, anyway. Though, now…I don’t know if…if they’re…”
“They are alive,” Amara said, though she could not know that for sure. But she believed it. She had to believe it. “Your father has been declared king. He has marched west to defend the Twinfort.”
“The Twinfort? I thought he was at King’s Point?”
“He was.”
“What about Elyon?” Lillia’s face scrunched up, demanding. “If you’ve been looking for me, why hasn’t he come? He can fly. He’d have found me easily if he’d tried. It wasn’t that hard. We were on the lake for a long time, and then on those islands, and then back on the lake again. And then we came here.”
Here was Blackfrost, the city seat of House Daecar, perched in the southern foothills of the pine-forested North Downs. After all that chasing, all those weeks and months in the saddle and under sail, the girl had come back home all along. Sir Daryl, Amara thought. Bless that man. He would have a lordship for this, she would make sure of it. Well, a better one. Daryl was already set to become Lord Blunt at his grandfather’s death, but Amara would make certain his lands at least were vastly expanded. “Elyon has been busy, Lillia,” she said. “He is helping to win the war, like your father. They do not have time to worry about you. And they wouldn’t have to if you had stayed where you were. You never should have left Ilivar.”
“I hate Ilivar,” the girl seethed at once. “It’s too clean and boring. And Grandfather’s castle. Keep Quiet,” she hissed. “I hate it even more. Even the servants go around afraid of him. Not like ours. In Keep Daecar, and here. The servants here are happy and friendly. They smile and aren’t afraid to talk to us, because we’re nice to them, and treat them well. But with Grandfather they cower and move like corpses, all stiff and worried they’ll do something wrong.” She shook her head. “I hate Grandfather most of all.”
“You don’t mean that,” Amara made herself say. She had no love for Brydon Amadar, but he was still Lillia’s grandfather, and a greatlord, and she must respect him. “Your grandfather has his faults, I will not say he doesn’t, but he loves you, Lillia. He only wants to see you safe.”
“He wants to see me become my mother,” she bit back. “He doesn’t really love me. He loves her. The ghost of her. But I’m not her. I’m never going to be her.”
Amara smiled. “You always were more wilful, child,” she said, cupping her cheek. “Brydon will say that is my fault. I never did raise you right.”
The girl frowned angrily. “You did so. You raised me brilliantly. I like who I am.”
“So do I, child. Though your grandfather thinks you are too wild and reckless, qualities that I have imparted upon you. Your mother would have brought you up to be more demure…”
“More dull,” Lillia said to that. “That’s what Grandfather was trying to do. Make me dull and stamp the life out of me. I feel sorry for my mother growing up in that place. And I’m glad you raised me. You’ve been an amazing mother.”
Amara could have wept all over again to hear her say those words. “Sweet child. You are kind.”
“I’m just telling the truth. I don’t even remember my real mother anymore. You’re the only mother I’ve known, and...”
And the door knocked, interrupting her. Amara sniffed, wiped her eyes, and cleared her throat. “Come in.”
Sir Connor Crawfield stepped inside. Lillia gave him a hard frown. “You interrupted me,” she said. “I was saying something nice, and you interrupted me.”
The household knight gave an apologetic bow. “My lady. I am sorry for the intrusion.”
“Oh shut up and come here.” Lillia skipped right over to hug him, grinning as she buried her head into his chest and wrapped her skinny arms around his back. “I’m just teasing you, Con. You were always easy to tease.”
“As it please you, Lady Lillia.” Sir Connor curled a single arm around her, smiling. “It is good to see you again. We have all been very worried.”
“It’s OK. Sir Daryl kept me safe. We came right here when we heard about Varinar.” Lillia pulled back and looked up at him. “Were you with Auntie Amara as well? When she searched for me?”
“Yes, my lady. You gave us a good runaround.”
Lillia grinned fiendishly, as though it was all a game. Amara could have throttled her dead. “So you went to that island as well? On the lake?” She looked over at Amara. “Did you meet that fat pirate? The Great One, they called him.” She made a disgusted face. “I’ve never seen anyone so grotesque. He took my necklace, to pay for passage. The one Mother gave me before she died. And Daryl’s sword. That slimy one took them.”
The seneschal. Amara stood from the bed and opened her wolfskin cloak, reaching into her pocket to retrieve the necklace in question. She had demanded the obsequious little seneschal give it back, along with Daryl Blunt’s blade, and duly he had. She stepped over and reached around Lillia’s neck, setting the necklace back into its proper place. “There. Much better.” It was gold, a chain of fine links, with a pendant showing the Daecar family crest; a knight on horseback, thrusting aloft his misting blade. Small wonder Lillia grew up wanting to swing a sword, Amara reflected. It was one of the few pieces of jewellery she liked.
Lillia held the pendant in her hand, smiling at it. “How did you get it back for me?”
“I asked nicely.”
Lillia smirked. “You demanded, more like. I know you, Auntie.” She clasped the pendant tight in her grasp, squeezing, then let it fall to the soft pale skin of her throat. “It means a lot. Thank you. I thought I’d never see it again.” She smiled again. The reaction was pleasing to Amara, and as she’d hoped. “Did you get Daryl’s sword back as well?”
Sir Connor gave answer. “I have just returned it to him now, Lady Lillia.” He gave Amara an urging look. “My lady, the lords and captains are gathering downstairs in the audience chamber. There is…news.”
Amara heard the tone. It was not good news, that was plain. “Thank you, Connor. I’ll go and join them now.”
“Who?” Lillia asked. “Who else is here with you?”
Oh, just an army twenty thousand strong, Amara might have answered. And my own new order of Knights Assorted. She did not have the time to explain that now. “I’ll let Jovyn tell you all about it,” she said. “He’s right outside. Is that correct, Connor?”
The knight nodded. “That is correct, my lady. And most eager to see the little lady, I do believe.”
Lillia grinned enormously. “Why didn’t you say so?” She rushed straight for the door, her cotton nightgown fluttering. It was late, long past midnight, and Lillia had been sleeping when they arrived, tucked up in her bed in her private chamber in the castle. Her long brown hair bounced at the back of her neck as she ran, barefoot, across the rugs and cold bare stone. Through the door she went, and out into the hall beyond. “Jovy!” Amara heard her cry, elated. “Jovy, Jovy, Jovy!” The rest was screams and laughter.
Amara Daecar smiled. “Well. Let’s leave them alone, shall we? These two young love birds can do without us watching, Connor.”
The word ‘watching’ made the knight raise his eyes.
“No, I don’t mean that. Goodness, Connor Crawfield, you do have an unsavoury mind.” She prodded the knight in the arm. “Come, we’ll take the back way out.”
They left through the adjoining solar and down a long corridor until they reached the central stairway. Blackfrost Castle was not large as castles went, a stronghold moderate in its majesty, but strong all the same, rich in rugs and tapestries and decorative beams of darkened pine. It was one of the few stone structures in the city, a list that included the walls, gatehouse, defensive towers, and several other minor keeps and storehouses raised by the small lords and city elites. Elsewise Blackfrost was primarily a timber city, a city of pine and pure air and snow, pretty in its winter blanket and handsome through spring and summer. Though summer now, it wore its winter coat, and that was of constant bemusement to everyone. A particularly thick winter coat, Amara thought. And growing thicker still.
The castle was as familiar to her as an old friend, and the audience chamber made no exception. Hearths burned brightly in large alcoves to each side, and dark timber beams warmed the walls and ceilings, blessing Blackfrost Castle with a rustic feel to match the city below. At the heart of the room, a great carved pinewood table stood grandly, the chamber’s fabled centrepiece. First commissioned by Lord Bayron Daecar four centuries ago, it showed a map of the world as it was known, with islands and mountains, cities and woods and landmarks all carved out in intricate, three-dimensional detail.
Vesryn had loved coming here with Amron when they were boys, Amara knew. They used to play at war, her husband had told her, storming castles and devising battle strategies as they acted out the next great Renewal. Their grandfather Balion had paid a wood carver to sculpt hundreds of little figures for them to use in their games. Knights with their miniature blades, warriors on barded horses, archers and spearmen, kings and commanders, dragons and dragonriders and riders of sun and star and moon, paladin knights and dragonknights and sea monsters and siege weapons. It was her husband’s favourite room in the castle, Amron’s as well. And mine, she thought. It became mine too. We would sit in here and drink wine and talk all through the night. Sometimes it would just be her and Vesryn. Sometimes Amron would be there too, with Kessia, and when Aleron first came along, and then Elyon, the boys would run around the table playing catch the dragon as the adults watched and laughed.
