Silent Queen
Author: Carrie Summers
Date: 2016-12-16 05:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Fantasy; Young Adult
Description: Words have power, everyone knows that. What few realize is the power that lies in silence. Unable to speak, Leesa lived in isolated silence for sixteen years. And then she met Eron. Through a unique talent, her beloved can hear her thoughts. A member of a clandestine group, Eron hopes to overthrow the city's tyrants. But when he asks for Leesa's help, she makes a mistake that leads to the renegades' discovery. Eron is thrown in prison for life. Leesa will do anything to right her mistake. But the deeper she delves into the situation, the more treacherous the footing. And soon she may face a fa
Publisher: Lonely Crag Press

Table of Contents

Welcome

Part One

1.

2.

3.

4.

5.

Part Two

1.

2.

3.

4.

5.

6.

7.

Part Three

1.

2.

Silent Queen

Prequel

Shattering of the Nocturnai

Carrie Summers

Welcome

Dear Reader,

Welcome to Silent Queen, a prequel novella to the Shattering of the Nocturnai series. I hope you’ll enjoy it! This book takes place about 300 years before the main story. Books 1 and 2 in the series are coming January 9th and 16th, 2017, with the third following within the month. Before you dig into the prequel, here is a little information on the first book, Nightforged.

All best,

Carrie

PS. I would love to hear from you! At www.CarrieSummers.com you can find information on how to reach me via email or social media, or if you would rather just let me start the conversation, you can sign up for my email list as well. Thanks!

Seventeen-year-old Lilik is gutterborn and sick of it. Done groveling to the tyrannical trader class, she is ready to be a hero. And the opportunity has arrived. On a distant volcanic island, a months-long night has fallen. Powerful magic gathers in the darkness, and Lilik joins an expedition determined to harness it. Shortly after landfall, disaster strikes the band. Marooned in the oppressive dark, Lilik’s shipmates turn primal, attacking each other. To survive, Lilik must evade the savages, unravel the island’s ancient secrets, and master her own, innate magic before it drives her mad. Anything else will lead to her execution… and a cataclysm unseen since the last millennium.

Visit Nightforged on Amazon to grab the book. And now, on to the story.

Part One

1.

THE MIDDAY SUN beat down as I hurried across the courtyard. Heat shimmered off black flagstones, penetrating my shoes and making my feet slide around in their sweat.

On either side of the dark-iron gates, an elite Ulstat soldier watched the slow stream of people passing in the street beyond. I sighed. Unfortunately, two sentries doubled the chance I’d be hassled.

One of the gates stood halfway open, a reluctant invitation for anyone who had business with House Ulstat. As I slipped through, the nearest guard looked me up and down and sneered.

“You have a reason for leaving the kitchens, girl?”

The meat for the guards’ dinner wasn’t rotten enough, I thought to myself. I’m headed to the butcher’s to find something with more maggots.

“Well?” he said, cupping his ear. “I can’t very well let you pass without knowing the reason.”

I clenched my jaw. The man knew quite well that I couldn’t speak. Glaring, I pointed at my mouth.

“What’s that? You’re hungry?” He laughed at his own joke, looking at the other guard for approval.

Not after seeing your face, I thought. Rolling my eyes, I stepped into the street. The guard laid a rough hand on my arm, but I twisted free. It wasn’t like he’d report me for leaving the House grounds. And if he did, the head cook, Iriinet, would claim she’d sent me. At least I hoped I’d earned that much loyalty after ten years working for her, starting as a six-year-old pot scrubber.

Clearing the gate, I skirted a small group of miners trudging off to some dark hole in the nearby crags. One of the men glanced at the compound I’d just exited and snarled at me.

It’s not like I work for House Ulstat by choice, I thought. You think I enjoy putting food in their mouths? I sidestepped out of his reach and hurried away from the House grounds—given the miners’ attitude, maybe Trader Ulstat had good reason for his recent paranoia.

Deeper into the city, Ilaraok, smoke and dust choked the narrow streets. The haze turned figures shadowy, and soot from coal fires stained the heavy stone blocks of the walls. Sweat trickled down my back as I turned into an especially narrow alley, a shortcut between House Ulstat and the refinery district. The passage stank, and I had to be careful not to step in something disgusting, but at least I’d earn more time with Eron.

At the thought, my heart sped.

While I walked, my eyes darted into dark alcoves, and I ducked my head to avoid drawing attention. A few workers were returning from shifts in the refineries. The whites of their eyes stood out in the dimness of the alley, shining from faces darkened by soot. I chose to brush against the dirty walls rather than get too close. It’d been a few weeks since someone disappeared from an Ilaraok alley, but I didn’t want to take chances.

A few hundred paces from the alley mouth, an elderly woman huddled in a recessed doorway, her arthritic knuckles reminding me of walnuts. As I stepped near her to avoid a big man walking in the other direction, she looked up.

“Hey,” she said in a weak voice. “Girl.”

Yes? I stopped and faced her, raising my eyebrows in question.

She plucked at the leg of my trousers. “Pretty girl like you, must have friends… Friends with money.”

I retreated a step, searching the surrounding doors for signs that she was working with someone. Thieves often operated in pairs. The old beggar looked helpless enough to convince someone to let down their guard, as I’d just proved.

And you’d like to take that money. I get it.

“Wait.” She raised a trembling hand. “I don’t mean to scare you. Just looking for a little help.”

Are you? Or are you keeping me still long enough for your partner to strike?

I touched my fingers lightly to my lips, fluttering them. Sometimes the gesture helped people understand that I couldn’t speak.

“Just a coin or two to get through until my son comes back?” she asked, rheumy eyes watering.

My shoulder slumped as I shook my head. This woman wasn’t a thief—she was just desperate. But I had no money of my own. The Ulstats provided for my needs, their so-called generosity keeping me dependent.

I’d help you if I could, dear old Nan. I tried to express the thought with my eyes. I hope that son of yours returns soon.

Most likely, her son was long gone. Sailed away for better prospects.

The old woman pursed her lips and glowered. “I was young once, too. Hair like threads of coal, just like yours. You’ll see. It won’t always be so easy.” She growled at me, a low noise in her throat, before looking away.

I stiffened before forcing myself to consider her situation. She didn’t understand that I was mute. Probably thought me ruder than most.

I forgive you, Nan, I thought.

I continued on, eager to see Eron. After few blocks, the alley narrowed yet again. Cinders blackened the packed earth between buildings, and only a few people filed along the passage. Ahead, the alley turned past a tannery. Above the bend, a balcony jutted over the alley, further cutting the light. I hated this part. Pulling my arms close to my body, I hurried my feet.

When the shadow of the balcony fell over me, I gritted my teeth. I just needed to make it another few blocks before the alley opened into the refinery district. Already I could hear the clangs of the ore crushers and the occasional squeal of a yoked mule.

When a hand fell on my shoulder, my heart jumped into my throat. I leaped forward with a silent scream on my lips. My toe caught, and I stumbled, throwing my hands wide for balance.

“Leesa! It’s me! Wait!” Eron called.

My pulse roared in my ears as I whirled on him. He stepped from a niche in the tannery’s wall, a sheepish look on his face.

I took a breath to still my nerves. Even in the alley, I wasn’t always so jumpy. Maybe Trader Ulstat’s paranoia had infected me. It wasn’t just the added guard at the gate. Within the walls of the trader household, a mood of concerned vigilance had taken hold.

“Are you okay?” Eron asked.

Just give me a minute. I swallowed and willed my heart to slow.

“I didn’t understand that one, I’m sorry,” he said.

I tried again, focusing my thoughts and aiming them at him. I’m okay.

“Good,” he said as he stepped close.

Since the first time he’d heard my voice whispering in his thoughts, we’d both improved our ability to communicate. And my habit of thinking responses to those around me had become an obsession. Maybe others could hear me if I just tried hard enough. But so far, only Eron felt my thoughts. Our connection was probably due to Eron’s ability anyway, not mine. He claimed to have sensed scattered thoughts from others over the years, but until meeting me, he’d thought it had been his imagination.

“I only wanted to surprise you,” he said. “I’m sorry, Leesa.”

As he shrugged, apologizing with his body as well, I closed my eyes and leaned into him. His arms wrapped me, solid and warm, and I laid my head against his chest. After a moment, he lifted my chin and pressed his lips to mine. Dried from a morning exposed to hot sun and salt air, their warmth chased the remaining jitters from my body.

“To the shore?” he asked. “It’s cooler there.”

I nodded and linked my arm with his. As we passed the refineries, blocky stone buildings with chimneys spouting black smoke, I wrinkled my nose. The air was much fresher on the grounds of House Ulstat as the property lay above the city.

Near the shore, seabirds wheeled above the mounds of refuse, bones with marrow still wedged deep inside, rags smelling of rancid lard and rotten food. But once we passed the middens, the clean smell of the ocean reached my nose.

“Leesa… I have something to ask you,” Eron said, stopping at the top of the beach.

The edge in his tone sent a cold jolt up my spine. He rarely talked about serious things when we were together.

“My group has had news,” he said. “A chance to get information we can use against the Ulstats.”

Eron’s group was a network of men and women who believed Ilaraok should be governed by commoners rather than a trader family. A better description for his friends might have been rebels.

What does that have to do with me? I asked. I wished we didn’t have to talk about this.

Eron squinted at the water as if considering the narrow strait that separated our island from our closest neighbor. A few hours sail from here, other trader Houses ruled over different cities. But none so cruelly as House Ulstat presided over Ilaraok.

I picked up a smooth beach cobble and ran my thumb over it. Even though he’d turned eighteen and had been living on his own for two years, Eron was really just a messenger for his group. In the crowded streets of Ilaraok, he had almost no chance of being caught. But the topic always chilled my bones. Today it was worse. When he spoke against the Ulstats, I felt as if ominous memories tickled the edges of my thoughts, lingering just out of reach.

“I wouldn’t ask you to help if we had another a choice,” Eron said. He snatched my hand, curling his fingers around mine and the smooth stone I held.

Just tell me, I thought.

“One of Lady Ulstat’s maids claims she has information that will ruin the Ulstats’ trader status. She’s agreed to meet with the leaders of my group tonight, but I need to get her a note that gives directions to the spot.”

Which one is she? I asked. Lady Ulstat kept half a dozen women as her personal maids.

Eron shook his head. “I don’t know her name and neither should you. And if she’s caught, she can’t know that you helped us.”

Then how do I get it to her?

“She asked us to leave the note in the hallway outside Lady Ulstat’s bedchamber. Underneath the wooden pedestal where the lady sets her lantern. Do you know it?”

I rarely entered the wing of the house where the Ulstats slept. Instead, I came and went from the kitchens through a back door.

I know where the bedroom is. The pedestal shouldn’t be hard to find.

Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a scrap of rough paper. When he handed it to me, I unfolded the sheet and peered at the writing. Eron had been attempting to teach me how to read, but my progress had been slow. I had little chance to practice. And in truth, I was usually interested in other things when I was with him. I hadn’t learned nearly enough to puzzle out the words on the paper.

“It’s better if you don’t know what it says anyway,” he said.

Not that I could tell anyone, I said to myself. He didn’t hear the thought, or at least he didn’t acknowledge it.

“Will you do it? If we succeed, no one in Ilaraok will have to fear the Ulstats again. And I was thinking… maybe someday you and I…”

The memories returned, once again dancing at the edges of my mind. Eron was still talking, but I lost track of his words. I grabbed for recollections, hoping to seize at least one. But the memories fled, leaving just tattered glimpses behind. A cook fire. The sound of a woman singing. And the smell of oats which somehow reminded me of blood.

“Leesa?” he asked.

I blinked, realizing I’d been staring out to sea. Sorry, I said to him. Yes, I’ll do it.

“Did you hear the other things I was saying? About us?”

I chewed my lip. There wasn’t a good way to tell him I’d been distracted. My thoughts wandered. I’m sorry.

He looked disappointed but mastered it before he spoke again. “I was getting ahead of myself anyway. So… The note. I’d almost hoped you’d refuse. I hate to put you in danger.”

Smiling a bit sadly, he cupped my cheek and pressed his lips to mine. I felt his breath warm on my cheek; even after a day at sea, he still smelled like spiced wood. Like a cedar chest holding treasures. I wished I’d heard what he’d said about us, but couldn’t very well ask now. I slid my arms around his back and hugged him close before breaking off.

I have to go, I said as I tucked the note into my pants pocket. Iriinet has given the other two girls leave to visit their parents. It’s just the two of us for the next few days.

“Be careful, Leesa,” he said. “If you think you might be spotted, forget the note. You’re far more important than any of this.”

2.

AS IRIINET CARRIED the large platter holding the family’s dinner into the great room, I slipped into the main corridor of the house. I didn’t have much time; the meal had taken longer than usual to prepare. Trader Ulstat’s dogs had brought down a feral hog, and he’d demanded it be well presented. I’d spent at least three hours hurrying back and forth between various cellars and pantries scattered in outbuildings across the grounds. But we weren’t close to finished with tonight’s work. As soon as she finished serving the family, Iriinet would expect to see me scouring pots and wiping down counters.

Silence filled the low-ceilinged corridor. My footsteps echoed even though I tried to move stealthily. Along the walls, nightforged lanterns burned dirty oil. Even with their mystical ability to fracture the flame into thousands of points of light, the glow couldn’t chase the dour mood from the corridor. My fuzzy shadow followed me as I crept along the hallway, bound for the archway leading toward the bedrooms. As I walked, I slid my hand into my pocket and felt for the note. When my fingers reached the seam at the bottom without touching paper, my brows drew together. Maybe I was confused. I must’ve stuffed the note into the other pocket. But I soon discovered that pocket empty, too.

My heart sped. I pressed my back against the wall while I collected myself. I must have missed the note. With one hand, I pulled the wrinkles from my trousers while shoving the other to the bottom of the pocket. I felt around, fingers clawing at the rough linen. Empty. The other pocket was the same.

The note was gone.

Fighting panic, I dashed back toward the kitchens. As I skidded into the archway, my shoulder clipping the wall, Trader Ulstat stepped from the great room into the corridor. Rot. He was supposed to be eating.

“You. Maid. Send word to the barracks. I need to speak with one of the elite guards.”

I didn’t stop, not even to think a response at him. With luck, he’d decide I hadn’t heard him and would find someone else to carry his message. As I dashed across the kitchen floor, I scanned all around for the scrap of folded paper. The counters were empty. I fell to my hands and knees before the ovens, peering beneath tables and cabinets. No note there either. Once again, I patted the outside of my pockets to make sure I hadn’t somehow missed it. How could the paper have fallen out?

As I shouldered out the back door and onto the network of pathways joining outbuildings and gardens to House Ulstat, I mentally reviewed my movements since leaving Eron. After my scare in the alley, I hadn’t been ready to plunge back into its confines. Instead, I’d taken a longer, safer route. Once inside the House gates, I’d followed a series of footpaths to the bunkhouse I shared with the other servants. It would be hard to retrace that path exactly. But now that I thought about it, hadn’t I felt the crunch of paper when I sat down on my bunk? Yes… I’d still had the note then.

Twilight filled the grounds with shadows, turning flagstones a ghostly gray. As I jogged along the path joining the kitchens to the bunkhouse, I squinted for a glimpse of paper.

“Leesa?” Back in the kitchens, Iriinet called for me. I ignored her. In the morning, I could pantomime an excuse about feeling suddenly sick. But for now, I had to find that note.

You’ll have to scrub the char off the pots on your own. Sorry, Iriinet.

I hadn’t spotted the note by the time I reached the bunkhouse. Running my hands through my hair, I thought about all the trips I’d made across the grounds during the evening, fetching wheels of cheese from one spot, onions from another.

I had to have taken dozens of different paths, and I’d have to search every one. I absolutely could not leave that paper for someone else to find.

3.

BY THE TIME the moon rose, I’d retraced my steps two or three times without finding the note. Eventually, Iriinet gave up calling for me and headed to bed. Now that the kitchen was empty, I slipped back inside to search again. But after an hour spent peering into crevices and ovens, searching countertops and under barrels, I had to accept that the note was really gone.

And since I hadn’t found it, most likely someone else had.

I slunk toward the bunkhouse, preparing my excuse for Iriinet. But as I laid a hand on the door latch, I thought about what Trader Ulstat had asked. He’d wanted to speak with his elite guard.

My fingertips went cold. How had I failed to think about it before? Certainly, the man had plenty of reasons to speak with his soldiers. But I couldn’t ignore the timing. Swallowing, I kneaded the air, clenching and relaxing my fingers.

If someone had found the note and had brought it to Trader Ulstat, wouldn’t he send trusted men to investigate? He was far too concerned for the security of House Ulstat to disregard the find.

The more I thought about it, the more certain I was that he’d seen the note. Eron had said that the paper held directions to tonight’s secret meeting. And his friends had no way to know that Trader Ulstat had received the address.

They’d be caught entirely flat-footed. Captured, maybe killed. But I had no way to warn them. I cursed my slow progress in learning to read. If I’d been able to decode the words, I’d know the location, too. I could get there first. I could warn them.

But I didn’t even know how to contact Eron outside of our prearranged meetings. He’d never taken me to his home because he wanted to wait until he could show me something he was proud of. The city was far too large for me to strike out and hope to find him by chance. In the morning, I could go to the docks and catch him before he went out fishing.

But morning would be too late.

I felt sick, my stomach rolling over. While thinking, I’d wandered away from the bunkhouse, following paths at random. Though I couldn’t contact Eron’s people, maybe I could still interfere with Trader Ulstat’s plan.

I crept through the grounds, following the narrowest paths under twisted trees and around groups of boulders. When I neared the gates, I slipped along the wall that fenced the Ulstat domain, trusting the shadows to hide me. Unlike most nights when the gates were shut and locked, now they stood open, guarded by four armored men.

My heart sank. I’d hoped I’d been wrong, but the sight lent strength to my suspicions. Most likely, the guards had been instructed to hold the gates until the elite squad returned.

I crouched against the wall, screened from sight by a prickly bush. There was little I could do against four armed men. But at least I could watch. Maybe it would help Eron if I brought him details about what had happened.

As I waited, I selfishly thanked the leaders of Eron’s group for failing to promote him to their inner circle. As a mere messenger, he wouldn’t be invited to this meeting. I felt relieved to think of him home and safe even if his friends were in for an unpleasant surprise.

Because the day had been so hot, the stone wall still radiated heat. I leaned against it and waited, hoping I was wrong about everything.

After maybe an hour, my legs had cramped, and my tired eyes had filled with sand. I yawned, regaining alertness as the glow of a lantern approached from the street. The guards straightened, laying hands on weapons. I moved into a crouch, ready to run if necessary.

Moments later, the guards relaxed. One of the men stepped into the street to meet the arrival.

I couldn’t understand the low voices as the men spoke. But after a moment, the guard trotted across the courtyard leading to the front door of House Ulstat and rapped gloved knuckles against the heavy wood. The door flew open, light from a candle chandelier spilling into the night. Roakiev Ulstat, the cruel, eighteen-year-old heir to the family title, and his younger sister, Ashiril, stood silhouetted in the doorway. Did that suggest Trader Ulstat had gone out with his guardsmen? It didn’t really matter, I supposed.

After tossing on a padded jacket, Roakiev stalked from the house to the street, a twisted grin on his face. I needed no more confirmation that the ambush had succeeded. After maybe ten minutes, the sound of marching feet filled the street. A group of elite Ulstat soldiers in leather armor reinforced with metal plates stamped into the courtyard, dragging a string of chained commoners. At least seven of Eron’s friends had been captured.

I bit my lip. Hard. If I hadn’t been so clumsy with the letter, this wouldn’t have happened. What would I tell Eron? Could I admit the truth?

Until I saw his friends chained and bruised and bleeding, it hadn’t been real. But now I knew what I’d done. I’d ruined his rebellion. Quite likely, he’d never forgive me.

Even if he did, I could never forgive myself.

As the last of the prisoners stumbled through the open gates, I forced myself to look up one last time.

The sky crashed down, smashing me flat. I didn’t want to believe what my eyes told me. At the end of the line of prisoners, Eron staggered through the gate. One of his eyes had swollen shut, and the leg of his pants was torn open, revealing a deep gash in his thigh.

If I’d had a voice, I would have screamed. As it was, I sagged against the wall as I watched my beloved limp forward under the evil stare of Roakiev Ulstat.

Eron? I asked, willing my thought to enter his mind. But he just continued forward, head rolling loose on his neck, shoulders slumped. Maybe his pain kept him from hearing me, or maybe he was too far away. Or maybe he already knew that this was my fault. Maybe he could hear me and had chosen not to react.

I dug my fingernails into my thighs as Trader Ulstat followed the procession into the courtyard. He clapped a hand on a guard’s shoulder and ordered the gates closed. He and his son conferred, malicious grins on their faces. I wished I could hear their words, but at the same time I didn’t want to. Were they planning the captives’ imprisonment? Their execution?

I understood now why Eron had wanted to unseat House Ulstat. The traders could treat us however they liked, kill us if they wanted, and none of us had the means to fight back.

But a few, brave commoners had tried to fight anyway. And I’d betrayed them by losing a note.

I watched guardsmen drag the line of prisoners away until they passed out of sight behind a storage building. The traders followed behind, nudging each other in celebration of their triumph. I wanted to follow to find out where they locked the captives, but couldn’t cross the courtyard without being seen. As silently as I could, I crept around the back of the house, then dashed from outbuilding to outbuilding, peering around corners in hopes of catching a glimpse. But I was too late. The Ulstats were already returning to the house and the guards to their barracks. The captives were locked away.

All that remained now was to learn their fate.

4.

I WAS ACCUSTOMED to loneliness. In truth, I felt comfortable that way. No one had ever loved me—at least no one that I remembered. I’d come to work in the Ulstat kitchens when I was six. Surely, I’d been somewhere before. But all I had were scattered glimpses, nothing coherent. My young life was veiled by a fog that grew thicker and thicker the farther back I tried to look.

Iriinet was kind to me, but our relationship stopped there. As for the other servants, my silence made them uncomfortable. So I’d existed in isolation.

And then I’d found Eron. A person who could understand me and hear me. And more, a person who genuinely cared for me.

And now he was gone.

When I finally climbed into bed, I curled my knees to my chest and felt his absence as a bottomless pit.

IRIINET SHOOK ME awake after the sun had risen. She why I’d disappeared before cleaning the kitchen. Maybe she sensed more than she let on. Maybe she even knew how badly I’d failed.

I doubt it went that far, but she must’ve seen something on my face that told her to let me rest. As I blinked the sleep from my eyes, she hurried about the bunkhouse, collecting my clothing. We had to hurry, or breakfast would be delayed.

When I stood, she looked at me with concerned eyes. “Are you okay?”

You aren’t married. I thought to her. Did you ever meet someone? Did you lose him?

I’d only known Eron for a couple months, but it felt like so much more. I didn’t know what I was going to do without him.

As I stood there, numb and unmoving, her brows drew together. “Leesa?”

I swallowed and shrugged. Iriinet and I used a few gestures to communicate specific things in the kitchen. But none of them could come close to describing my regret and heartache.

Once I’d dressed, we stepped out onto the path leading to the main house. I scanned the grounds for some sort of clue about the prisoners. But there was nothing. I trudged behind Iriinet, eyes on the ground. Despondent.

But as she opened the kitchen door and held it for me, anger seeped into me. This was my fault, and all I was doing about it was moping. I owed Eron more. I owed myself more. I had to at least try to fix this.

As I kneaded the evening’s bread, punching my fist into the fleshy ball of dough, I considered where to begin. Eron’s friends believed the maid had information that would ruin House Ulstat. I doubted I could figure out which of the maidservants had approached his group. But if the maid could find those secrets, why couldn’t I? I’d worked in House Ulstat for ten years. More than that, I couldn’t even speak. Who better for the family to trust with their secrets then an illiterate mute? If I could uncover the same information that the maid had found, I could figure out a way to use it. Maybe I could even pressure the Ulstats into freeing Eron.

“Easy, Leesa. You want to work the dough, not pummel it to bits.” Iriinet laid a hand on my shoulder and squeezed the tension from my neck.

Yes, but I’m practicing for Roakiev Ulstat’s face.

I forced myself to take a deep breath and relax. If I was going to succeed, no one could know my true feelings. I couldn’t appear angry or sullen or calculating. Only obedient.

Ordinarily, Iriinet delivered the breakfast tray to the great room. But this morning, I grabbed the handles and raised my brows questioningly.

“If you’re trying to apologize for skipping out last night, Leesa, don’t worry. We all deserve to rest sometimes.”

She talked a strand of hair behind my ear and smiled. The gesture raised my spirits a little. Maybe she cared about me more than I thought.

Now is not a good time to get close to me, I thought. Look what happened to Eron.

But even as I thought it, I smiled back. Selfishly, I was glad she was trying. She glanced again at the platter, but I didn’t release the handles. After a moment, she nodded.

“Suit yourself,” she said. “My tired back wouldn’t mind the break.”

When I entered the great room, only Lady Ulstat looked surprised to see me bringing the meal. The others didn’t notice. Ashiril curled her lip at the sight of the food, probably judging ham and stewed fruit inadequate for her delicate pallet. Roakiev and Trader Ulstat sat side-by-side on one of the padded benches. Roakiev held a nightforged dagger, likely purchased at great cost from another trader family, House Yiltak. The Yiltaks sailed to a volcanic island, Ioene, once every eight years when an unnatural night fell over the island. Each time, they returned with great riches, but only people invited on the expedition learned the location.

Weapons forged on the island were unnaturally responsive, almost seeming to move in response to the wielder’s thoughts. Or so I’d heard. I’d hate to know what Roakiev was thinking. Nothing gentle, no doubt.

Among the commoners, there were rumors that madness ran in the Ulstat family. I wouldn’t be surprised to learn they were true, but more likely, people had come up with the madness as the only explanation for the family’s cruelty. In any case, I wouldn’t want to be alone with Roakiev and his knife.

I wanted to linger and see if I could learn anything about the prisoners, but that would harm my standing with the family. They desired obedience, privacy, and discretion. Curiosity was not among those traits. After setting the food on the table, I quickly hurried out.

As I slipped into the corridor, I heard Lady Ulstat ask, “Ashiril, who was that bringing our food?”

“Who, Mother? I didn’t see.”

I smirked. She would. Lady Ulstat already had enough maids. But Ashiril would soon see the value of an additional servant.

At noon, a few maids were whispering in the corridor as I carried the food to the great room. Most likely, they’d heard about the events last night. When I stopped to listen, one of them cast me a confused glance. I moved off before she took offense.

Only Ashiril and Lady Ulstat were in the great room. As I sat down the heavy tray, Ashiril glared at me. “Didn’t someone tell you? Or are you too dimwitted to remember? My father and brother won’t be joining us. You may feed their portions to the dogs.”

No one told me anything, Mistress Ashiril. But if you prefer to think of me as dimwitted, I won’t try to correct you.

I shook my head and shrugged, then fluttered my fingers before my mouth.

“What are you—“

Ashiril’s mother cut her off. “I remember now. She’s the tongueless girl from the kitchens. Iriinet’s favorite helper.”

Actually, I have a tongue. Would you like to see?

Ashiril grimaced. “How does Iriinet manage? A mute kitchen wench and a head cook getting too old for her job. It’s a wonder we eat at all.”

You do look half starved.

I kept my eyes on the floor as I laid Ashiril’s meal before her.

“I could say whatever I wanted about you, and you wouldn’t fight back, would you? You can’t.”

I shrugged as if beaten. Or perhaps I’m too dimwitted to understand your words, I thought.

“At any rate,” Ashiril said turning her attention away from me, “the hangings are set for midafternoon. Roakiev is nearly vibrating with anticipation.”

Hangings? I thought, my heart suddenly pounding. Who?

A troubled looked crossed Lady Ulstat’s face. “He would do well to hide it, but I suppose that would be too much to hope for from Roakiev.”

Ashiril’s eyes were immediately keen. “Hide it in front of father, you mean? Because of the inheritance?”

Tell me who’s going to be hung!

Ashiril’s mother glared at her and flicked her gaze to me. I realized I was standing frozen and quickly folded a napkin to set beside her plate.

“You know that matter’s closed,” her mother snapped. But Ashiril didn’t seem to listen. Her eyes still gleamed. Whoever inherited the title of Trader Ulstat would have power over everyone in Ilaraok. Ashiril wanted it.

“In any case,” Lady Ulstat said, “Roakiev will be disappointed. Your father has decided to hang just two of the leaders. A married couple for extra effect. The others will rot for quite some time. But they may be useful someday.”

Oh thank the tides. Not Eron. But how can you talk so lightly about killing people?

I narrowly avoided a grimace that would reveal my true thoughts about the Ulstats. Instead, I centered the two spare meals on the tray so that I wouldn’t accidentally spill them. I felt Ashiril’s eyes on me as I started for the door.

You see how obedient I am, don’t you? Nearly as entrancing as a hanging.

“Wait a minute,” Lady Ulstat said. “Can you give a message to Iriinet?”

Hands full, I faced her. I kept the blank look on my face. Of course. Would you like me to tell her in ancient Kiriilti or stick to the common tongue?

“I thought you said she couldn’t talk, Mother,” Ashiril said, rolling her eyes.

Color flooded Lady Ulstat’s cheeks. “Well, if you have any way to communicate with her, inform her that House Yiltak is sending a delegation. It seems they have business to discuss. We’ll need to plan meals accordingly.”

I shrugged apologetically and turned.

“Might as well tell the wall,” Ashiril said as I retreated from the room.

5.

OVER THE NEXT few days, the rumor spread among the servants that the remaining captives had been locked away in the Ulstats’ secret prison, an abandoned mine in the nearby hills. I tried to focus on my goal of gaining information, but at night, I couldn’t help imagining Eron locked in the dark and the damp, alone and afraid.

Sometimes, I even thought I heard the ghosts of the executed leaders. They came into my dreams to tell me how it felt when the floor dropped away, the loud sound of their own necks cracking when the nooses snapped tight.

But during the day, I managed to channel my guilt into determination. Mostly.

The Yiltaks arrived within the week. Clad in the finest nightweave, the prime trader and his daughter entered the house with an air of arrogance not even the Ulstats could match. Belted to his waist, Trader Yiltak carried a nightforged sword that seemed almost to sing with the desire to kill. On his daughter, Vaneesi, the nightweave melded like liquid to her body. Her hair, a light auburn uncommon in our islands, hung down her back and shimmered in the light. Even I stared.

According to the schedule Iriinet had been given, the Yiltaks would not stay long. Just a day or two. Over the first dinner, I did my best to linger around the table after delivering each course in hopes of gathering information.

“The journey is dangerous,” Trader Yiltak said to Ashiril as I entered the room bearing a haunch of venison.

“Will I—”

Trader Ulstat cut his daughter off. “But there will be wealth, correct? And nightforged goods?”

“Plenty. More than we can handle on our own. We usually invite talented girls from the other trader Houses on Stanik Island, and they’ve all fared quite well. But none of their daughters are the proper age this cycle.”

Proper age for what? I asked, curious. And if you’re implying Ashiril has a talent for anything but complaining, I’m afraid you’re confused.

“You’ll test Ashiril for the ability?” Lady Ulstat said.

“No need,” Trader Yiltak said. “I already have. My daughter handed her a kerchief with nightsilk threaded through the weave. Ashiril sensed it immediately, and peered closely in search of the strands.”

Trader Ulstat’s brows drew together. “You did this without our permission?”

I like you, I said to Trader Yiltak.

“It was convenient, and allowed us to ascertain her abilities without getting your family’s hopes up.”

Actually, I thought to Trader Ulstat, he wouldn’t have mentioned this voyage at all if Ashiril didn’t have what he needs. You know that right?

I sat the platter holding the venison on a table at the side of the room, and began slicing off portions. As Iriinet had instructed, I served Trader Yiltak first, pouring gravy over the lightly steaming meat.

“When would she leave?” Trader Ulstat asked.

“The expedition sails in two weeks,” Trader Yiltak said. “I must be honest. If we don’t find an acolyte before then, Vaneesi will have to work unprotected. I’m not sure we’d risk it.”

Are you saying you’d trust Ashiril to guard your daughter? Did Trader Yiltak know who he was talking to? I stabbed the serving fork into another thick slice and slapped it onto a plate for Trader Ulstat.

“As an acolyte, are you suggesting she’d be answerable to your daughter?” Lady Ulstat asked. “Ashiril is not fond of constraints.”

Ashiril flashed Vaneesi an insincere smile. “I especially would not enjoy orders from someone my age.”

Unless that person is Roakiev, I thought. Over the last few days, I’ve noticed the way you rush to obey him. Has he threatened you? Does he know one of your secrets?

“Why can’t she be of equal value to the expedition? A full nightcaller with all the privileges.” Trader Ulstat said.

Because she’s a spoiled, vain sixteen-year-old? I leaned over the table and refilled Trader Yiltak’s water goblet before returning to the meat. Lady Ulstat’s slice needed to be exceedingly thin because she didn’t like the tearing sensation when chewing thick bites.

“She has no training,” Vaneesi said with an air of superiority. As she spoke, I noticed Roakiev staring at her intently. Almost hungrily.

What would possibly interest her in you? I asked him.

“The meat grows cold while we wait for you to serve it,” Lady Ulstat said, staring at me in annoyance.

I ducked my head and sawed at the haunch. If Roakiev would loan me that nightforged dagger, maybe I could manage to both keep the slice thin and cut it quickly. But cutting with this dull blade was like trying to fell a tree with a butter knife. Finally, the knife scraped the platter, and I lifted the slice free, setting it gently on a plate for the lady. When I carried it to her, she grabbed my wrist.

“Nothing from this table reaches other ears,” she whispered. For such a gaunt woman, her grip was surprisingly strong. I shrugged and fluttered my fingers before my mouth.

“Yes, I know you can’t speak.” She narrowed her eyes. “Regardless, if I hear others whispering of this, particularly the negotiations, I’ll have no choice but to assume you found a way to communicate. Now hurry up with the service.”

I finished slicing the meat quickly. A strained silence had fallen over the table. It seemed strange that they’d stop speaking just because of Lady Ulstat’s words. Maybe something she’d said had reminded them of another conflict. I knew very little about the relationship between trader Houses; until deciding to learn what I could for Eron’s sake, I’d had no interest in changing that.

As I placed Vaneesi’s meat before her, she tapped her finger on the table. “Actually, Father, I have an idea,” she said.

Returning to the side table, I couldn’t help but notice her body language. By all appearances, Roakiev’s interest in Vaneesi was mutual. Under his gaze, color had risen in her cheeks, and her eyes were half-lidded.

Are you really that stupid? I asked her.

“I would be willing to train my acolyte on this voyage,” she said. “Same as mother trained me. You said we needed to find ways to strengthen our expedition. But we can’t create many more nightcrafted goods if I’m the only nightcaller.”

I wonder if any of you are going to explain what a nightcaller does, I thought. From what I gathered, they collected something that turned ordinary items into nightcrafted goods.

“Perhaps we could talk about this in private,” her father said.

Vaneesi shook her head and sat tall. “We meet too much in private lately. And as a result, your plans move slowly.”

Trader Yiltak had gone red in the face. Vaneesi was clearly ruining whatever strategy he’d devised.

“The acolyte is supposed to watch over you while you’re in the calling trance,” he said, voice low.

“I have an idea for that, too,” she said.

“I suppose you want to discuss that in front of our hosts as well,” her father said. Tension knotted his shoulders. There was definitely more at stake here than a negotiation over acolyte duties. But I doubted I’d learn anything more about it now.

“The acolyte does other things too, like help guide the nightstrands. That’s why we need girls with the nightcalling talent. But anyone can watch over callers when they enter the trance. Provided they’re trustworthy, of course.” She looked pointedly at Roakiev. “As you know, nightcallers are quite… vulnerable at that point.”

Could you be any more obvious? I thought to her.

“I’d like to call the position a sentinel,” she continued, ignoring her father’s cold stare.

As I set his plate before him, I could sense Roakiev’s hunger to know Vaneesi better. I could almost smell it. It made me sick.

I nearly forgot to serve Ashiril. When my eyes fell on Roakiev’s sister, it was all I could do to contain my amusement. The conversation had started with her as its central topic. But at this point, the others at the table seemed to have forgotten she existed.

As I delivered her plate, I made an extra effort to arrange it before her. No one else noticed the attention I paid to assuring her satisfaction with the dish, my readiness to add more gravy or cut a different portion. But Ashiril did. As I fussed over her, the glower faded from her face.

She continued to watch as I returned to the haunch of meat and left the serving utensils before bowing and leaving the room.

You see? I thought. We could be good together.

A day after the Yiltaks departed, I was on my way from the bunkhouse to the kitchens when Ashiril burst from the back door of the great room and stomped down a path, followed by her mother. This looked interesting. I glanced at the kitchen door—Iriinet could manage alone for another few minutes. I slipped in behind the pair, walking just close enough to hear their voices. Fortunately, The Ulstat women had no sense of awareness of their surroundings.

“Ungrateful flatterers,” Ashiril spat.

The Yiltaks? I asked. Did they withdraw their invitation? I smiled at the thought. After Vaneesi had formally announced Roakiev as her sentinel, the entire household had seemed to float, buoyed by their victory. Both siblings joining the expedition as critical members… Not even the other traders from the Yiltaks’ home island had achieved such prominence.

“You can’t be blamed,” Lady Ulstat said. “They likely have duties. Why else would they refuse?”

So not the Yiltaks. It must be the invitations you extended for a sentinel. Unlike Vaneesi, who lived on an island with many trader families, Ashiril was forced to invite from her so-called friends among the crafters and merchants. The Ulstats were the only traders on our island.

“But we’ve known each other since we were young,” Ashiril said. “How could they abandon me after such long friendships?”

Actually, I heard that your parents paid their parents to bring them to play with you.

Her mother shrugged. “I don’t know, Ashiril. But we’ll think of something. Worst-case, your father can force some commoner to go.”

As I turned to head for the kitchens, I smiled. That would not be necessary. I made an extra effort to fawn over Ashiril at dinner. By afternoon the following day, she demanded I serve her as sentinel.

We packed quickly, boarding the Yiltak’s ship, Fortune’s Pride, within the ten-day.

Six weeks later, the expedition made landfall on the volcano, Ioene.

Part Two

1.

“LEESA!” ASHIRIL CALLED from behind me.

Do you realize how much your voice grates?

I took a deep breath as I turned from the sea. We’d been on the island for four moonrises, and I hadn’t grown tired of looking at the ocean. The water reminded me of black velvet rippling toward a star-spattered horizon. Sometimes, I fantasized about describing it to Eron. But to earn that chance, I needed to focus.

Ashiril shuffled impatiently at the edge of the beach, feet crunching in crushed pumice. Behind her, Ioene smoldered. Dull red in the black of the long-night, the mountain towered beneath a shimmering curtain of blue-green aurora.

“Quicken your pace. Vaneesi is waiting.”

Don’t you mean Roakiev? You could care less about delaying Vaneesi.

Ashiril’s fear of her brother had grown stronger during the voyage. Maybe the close quarters on the ship had given her more chances to notice the nasty gleam in his eyes. More likely, he’d continued to threaten her.

When I joined her, Ashiril curled her lip and handed me an oiled-leather backpack. I accepted it without reacting, obedient as always. I’d played my part so well that Ashiril now relied on me, unthinking. To her, I was a dog from the kennels. A tool used in the hunt.

The volcano rumbled as we climbed away from the beach. Wicked thorn bushes with ink-black leaves lined the path. Ashiril muttered curses when her trousers snagged. I hurried to free her and then took the lead so that I could hold the branches aside.

Roakiev and Vaneesi stood at the edge of the encampment, a collection of tents and simple stone-walled buildings roofed with spare sailcloth. Every expedition, the Yiltaks added more permanent structures. Already, workers were mixing mortar from ash and seawater, preparing to raise another wall.

Vaneesi spared me a glance before turning her attention to Roakiev. As far as I could tell, Ashiril still had no idea about their relationship. It was obvious to me, but I’d had lots of practice understanding body language. When Roakiev touched Vaneesi, her pulse throbbed in her delicate neck. And whenever he wasn’t touching her, his eyes crawled over her body, jealous. Hungry.

I found the whole thing revolting.

“We could have walked halfway across the island in the time we’ve waited for you,” Roakiev said.

But then you’d probably be lost. Fortunately, we’ve spared you that embarrassment.

Ashiril wilted at his words. Her gaze fell to her feet, and her hands clutched the folds of her cloak.

Vaneesi, dressed in a thin, sleeveless tunic, smiled blandly. “Shall we?”

Lips twisting in a smile, Roakiev offered her his elbow. She slid her hand into the crook of his arm, turning the motion into a caress. Ashiril was oblivious.

As we filed away from the village, the light from the encampment’s lanterns faded. The moon was just a slivered crescent hanging above the sea, but the shimmer of the aurora lit our path. Curving up and away from the sea, the trail narrowed as it wound between jagged boulders, ending at the edge of a frozen river of lava. Vaneesi clambered onto the sea of black stone and continued on, followed closely by her lover.

“How far are you going to drag us?” Ashiril asked.

When Vaneesi turned, her eyes glinted in the red glow from the volcano. “I wouldn’t want to spoil the surprise.”

Ashiril halted. “I thought we were supposed to be calling the strands.”

As if you care about your duties. During her first two times helping Vaneesi call the mystical nightstrands, Ashiril had been reluctant at best, bristling every time Vaneesi tried to teach her something. At least I’d finally learned what exactly a nightcaller did. After falling into the calling trance, she gathered the nightstrands and confined them in a brass box called a reliquary. Later, Vaneesi took the collection of strands to the crafters and blacksmiths to be infused into their creations.

“Do I need to remind you of our respective status on this expedition, acolyte?” Vaneesi asked.

Roakiev returned to the edge of the flow and offered a hand to his sister. “You’ll enjoy this.”

His brows lowered as his stare locked with Ashiril’s, commanding her to obey. When he latched her wrist, his fingernails dug down between the tendons.

The small group continued on, leaving me to hoist myself onto the flow.

It’s all right, I’ll catch up, I thought as I trotted across the whorls of frozen stone.

“There,” Vaneesi said, pointing.

Peeking out from the jumble of scree and tangled brush, the dome of a roof was unmistakable. Even my breath caught. Over the course of the voyage, I’d learned that it had been one-hundred-thirty-six years since a trading vessel from House Yiltak had been blown off course and tossed onto the reef at Ioene. Coming ashore in search of supplies, the crew had discovered ancient forges built by a long-lost civilization. Since that first voyage, no other buildings had been found.

“Tides,” Ashiril whispered.

“We haven’t been in yet,” Roakiev said. “Vaneesi wanted to, but I insisted you should be here.”

As before, the traders helped one another descend from the river of stone, leaving me to manage on my own. No path led from the edge of the flow to the structure; Roakiev pulled his blade from its sheath and cut a break through the tangle of brush. Soon, we stood in a small huddle before the dark rectangle that may have once supported a door. On either side, columns rose, ghost-gray in the night.

Ashiril nodded at me, a request for the backpack carrying her supplies.

Would you like anything specific? I swung the pack off my shoulder and pulled on the leather tab that cinched the drawstring. When I looked at her with questioning eyes, she huffed.

“Sometimes I wonder at the wisdom of choosing a mute as sentinel.” Yanking the pack from me, she pulled out a small lantern.

Actually, you haven’t regretted it once. You’re just showing off.

“Wait, Ashiril,” Roakiev said. “It’s Vaneesi’s discovery. She has the right to go first.”

Again, he squeezed her arm, digging harshly at the flesh with his pointed nails.

I think you’re worried it might be dangerous, and you want Vaneesi to take the risk. No matter how much you desire her, your loyalty lies with your House. Ashiril would be flattered if she knew.

After kindling her own lamp, Vaneesi held it before her. When she stepped inside, the warm glow from the lantern bounced off walls and glinted on the beads sewn to her tunic.

“There’s not much,” she said. “Except…” She took a few hurried steps forward and set down the lantern. When she crouched before a small stone plinth, I caught a better glimpse of the interior. I’d peeked into the forges shortly after we dropped anchor. As with those buildings, inscriptions covered the walls inside Vaneesi’s discovery. But where the writing surrounding the furnaces seemed to flow, the lettering in this new building slashed across the walls. The runes seemed somehow malevolent. A shiver traveled my spine.

Vaneesi cradled something in her hands. When she turned sideways, allowing the lantern’s glow to fall upon it, I leaned forward, immediately taken by the carving. Chipped of glassy obsidian, a small rendering of a woman lay in her palms. Wisps of smoke swirled around the figurine. But Vaneesi’s next exhalation dispelled them.

Dashing inside, Ashiril fell to her knees before the statuette. Lips parted in awe, she extended her hand toward the artifact.

For a moment, time seemed to freeze. Even Roakiev, so often aloof, appeared stunned.

Is a statue really that fascinating? I thought. But though I tried to make light of their reactions, something was wrong. Ashiril’s enthralled gaze seemed unnatural. My skin crawled.

Abruptly, Vaneesi clapped her hand over the statuette and stuffed it in a velvet satchel she wore over her shoulder. As if a spell had been broken, Ashiril shook free from her trance. She stood, smoothing her clothing.

“We tell no one until we have more information, agreed?” Vaneesi said. As if suddenly realizing I was there, her gaze shot to me, eyes narrowing.

Yes. I’m clearly the one you need to worry about, I thought as I looked at her blankly.

“Even if Ashiril’s sentinel could speak, she wouldn’t dare.” Roakiev stalked toward me, grabbed me under the chin, and tilted my face up to his. “Right?”

Neck wrenched at an awkward angle, I managed a small, painful nod of assent.

“Good,” he said, his nails drawing across my jaw as he released me.

Ashiril stepped from the chamber, blinking as if disoriented. When he noticed his sister swaying on her feet, Roakiev cast me a sharp glare. Remembering myself, I rushed to her side and cupped her elbow. Ashiril’s skin was strangely hot.

Behind us, the volcano fumed.

2.

WHILE RETURNING, WE stopped on the river of frozen lava for Vaneesi to call the nightstrands. As she pulled her reliquary from the velvet satchel, her hand paused and her eyes widened. The figurine again.

What’s it doing to you? I asked.

Blinking, she fought against whatever feelings the statuette had worked upon her. In something of a daze, she summoned Ashiril with a gesture. For once Ashiril didn’t object.

Side-by-side, the girls performed the Chant of the Five and fell into the nightcalling trance. As sentinel, Roakiev ought to have been watching the volcano for the threat of eruptions, and he should have been standing close to Vaneesi in case she fainted due to the trance. Instead, he sat on a twisted hump of frozen lava and trimmed his cuticles with the blade of his boot knife while I attempted to stand as sentinel to them both.

Occasionally, I noticed his gaze lingering on the velvet pouch holding the artifact. To be fair, my eyes fell on it just as often.

The moon had touched the sea by the time the girls finished their task. We hurried back to camp, and I attempted to follow Ashiril into her tent. She dismissed me with a disgusted wave of her hand.

I shared a pavilion-style tent with some of the tradespeople and sailors. But though we were all commoners, of the same class as far as the traders were concerned, I was the only servant among them. The others could at least claim a sense of control over their lives, whereas I lived to satisfy my mistress’s command.

A few of the more highly valued members of the expedition had even begun to consider me a shared resource. If I’d had the ability to speak, they’d never have dared for fear I’d tattle to Ashiril. As it was, leatherworkers asked me to air their bedding while weavers and blacksmiths suggested I clean their tools. I neither refused nor complained.

When I ducked into the tent, however, the only occupants were asleep. A relief, because the situation with the figurine had unsettled me. I wanted time to think.

Unrolling my bedding atop the gravel floor, I crawled into the blankets. The mountain was restless, rumbling and hissing as she spat airy pumice from her cone. Pillowing my head on my elbow, I closed my eyes.

As I lay in the strange darkness, I remembered my first meeting with Eron. In an alley between buildings, the rats scurrying between our feet, we’d kissed without needing an introduction.

The memory soothed my nerves, and eventually I dozed.

After waking, I shuffled to the dining tent for a cold meal of smashed tubers and tasteless flatbreads. Unappetizing, but at least I hadn’t had to cook it. Next, I reported to Ashiril’s shelter, a padded silk tent falling away from two central poles. Because the tent had no proper door for knocking, she’d hung a small bell outside. I donned my mask of tame obedience before ringing it.

“Enter,” Roakiev announced as if the tent belonged to him.

Pushing aside a heavy curtain weighed down by stones sewn into the hem, I slipped inside. A dozen lamps lit the interior, casting a warm glow over the furnishings and the thick rug spread upon the bare-earth floor. Ashiril and Roakiev faced one another across the small table.

Upon seeing me, Roakiev leaned back in his chair and crossed his legs at the ankles.

Ashiril glared at her brother, a look dangerously close to insolence. “I don’t care,” she said, continuing their conversation. “You have to put it back. As soon as Vaneesi notices it’s gone, she’ll blame us.”

Notice what? The figurine?

Roakiev sneered as he confirmed my suspicion by pulling Vaneesi’s find from his pocket. He rotated the little statue in the light, pretending to examine it. But his eyes were on Ashiril. His sister stared at the artifact, rapt. My blood felt like cold seawater.

“Vaneesi is far too love-struck,” he said. “She’d never suspect me.”

Unfortunately, you’re probably right. I can’t understand whether she’s nearsighted or feebleminded or both.

After a moment, he slipped the figurine back into his pocket. Ashiril swallowed and dragged her gaze back to his face.

“She’s not in love with me, though,” she said.

“But wouldn’t that be… interesting,” Roakiev said with a leering smirk.

“I’m serious, Roakiev.” Finally acknowledging my presence, Ashiril waved dismissively. “I don’t need you now. Unless you’d care to refold the contents of my trunk. Your last attempt was rather disappointing.”

Only because it’s difficult to rifle through the pockets at the same time I’m folding your stuff. I pasted on a contrite expression while I shuffled for her trunk.

“In any case,” Roakiev said, “I spotted the opportunity and seized it. You wanted this. Don’t deny it.”

“But I’m smart enough to know how to bide my time,” Ashiril said, her voice shrill as she sprang from her chair. She trembled as she paced in a quick circle. I shook the wrinkles from a leather cloak, keeping my hands busy. Her reaction reminded me strangely of the tension that had hung over dinner when the Yiltaks had visited.

In Ashiril’s apparent panic, she’d forgotten to whom she spoke. Now would be a good time to clap shut, I thought to her.

I slid behind the trunk to use it as a shield before I glanced up. Roakiev’s face was purple with rage. Ashiril had realized her mistake and was already backing away.

“I didn’t mean…” She trailed off, knowing that her protests would only make things worse.

Incredibly, Roakiev regained control. The shaking in his arm subsided as he dug his hand into his pocket and rubbed the figurine. After a moment, he smiled, baring far too many teeth.

“My sister,” he said at last. “I admire your directness. Yes, I understand why you’d worry she’ll accuse you. But remember, she asked us to keep this secret. To claim you stole her artifact, she must admit to finding the structure. And she won’t do that until she’s thoroughly explored the area.”

I’m not so sure, I thought. She doesn’t have a good reason to keep it from her father.

Back straight, Ashiril approached the table. She grabbed the back of her chair but didn’t relax enough to sit. “Why not wait until the voyage home to steal it?”

Roakiev’s eyes narrowed. “Can you really wait that long? To me, the statue is nothing but a valuable object. But I saw the way it affected you.”

We all did… I grimaced at the memory.

Roakiev’s gaze flicked to me. Quickly, I pulled a jacket from the trunk and snapped it to remove the wrinkles. Ashiril jumped at the sudden noise, prompting a grin from her brother.

“Oh, Ashiril. You ought to have more faith in the bonds of blood. I’d forgive you for insults that would send others to the gallows. A stray comment doubting my decisions is certainly not worth this tension, is it?”

As he stepped closer, Ashiril took an unwitting step back. The motion only widened Roakiev’s grin.

“Come,” he said, stretching out a hand. “An embrace for your brother?”

I almost feel sorry for you, I thought to her. Almost.

Instead of accepting his embrace, Ashiril once again took her seat. I folded the jacket and laid it on her bed before pulling out the next item, trousers embroidered with gold thread.

“So, aren’t you going to ask about my plan?” Roakiev said with false cheeriness.

So, what’s your plan?

“I meant to ask sooner,” she said.

“You’re an awful liar, sister. But I forgive you.” He reached across the table and dragged his fingernail down her cheek. “In time, Vaneesi will raise a complaint. That’s true. Our job is to provide a target for her ire.”

At this, he stared pointedly at me. My heart thumped as my breath stuttered. Why hadn’t I predicted this the moment I saw the figurine in his hand? Numbly, I pulled a set of long gloves from the trunk. The leather was so soft it might have been silk.

“I need her,” Ashiril said with unexpected force.

My eyes widened. Well, at least he’ll kill us both now.

But rather than angering, Roakiev sneered. “She’s just a servant. Why would you even care? Does she even have a name?”

“Her name is Leesa,” Ashiril said. “At least, that’s what they call her in the kitchens.”

Is it possible that you actually care what happens to me? I asked. Did you somehow mistake my obedience for devotion? For a moment, I felt a twinge of guilt.

Roakiev snorted. “Hard to know the truth when the wench can’t even speak.”

“I’m beginning to find the trait quite desirable,” Ashiril said. “Leesa! Come here.”

I had to decide whether to finish folding the gloves and lay them atop the pile or whether to drop them back into the trunk. I chose to drop them rather than hesitate at her command.

“You’d find it difficult to betray me, wouldn’t you,” she asked as I stood before her.

To be honest, my inability to speak would make it difficult to betray anyone. But with you, I still plan to try.

Avoiding their eyes, I nodded.

“You see, Roak?”

He scoffed. “And if I pulled my blade on you now? Would she jump to your defense?”

I raised my gaze and glared at Roakiev. My breath caught when I noticed his hand on the hilt of his dagger. He grinned.

“You see?” Ashiril said. “At first I considered her affliction a disadvantage. But now… How many servants can you honestly trust to keep your secrets? None, I’d imagine. And she’s loyal, too.”

Roakiev raised an eyebrow as if considering. His thumb stroked the pommel of his dagger.

“Finish your work, Leesa,” Ashiril said. “And then leave.”

My heel caught on the rug as I backpedaled toward the trunk. Roakiev laughed as I stumbled.

I might feel a tiny bit of regret when I betray Ashiril. But I’d gladly watch the dogs tear you apart.

I clenched my jaw as I returned to my work. Matching the gloves palm to palm, I creased them in the middle and laid them as neatly as I could atop the pile.

“If you’re that unwilling to sacrifice a mere servant for our family,” Roakiev said, “we need other options.” He pulled the nightforged blade from its black sheath. He rolled the hilt in his grip then grinned and pretended to leap at me, stabbing empty air before him. I flinched.

Ashiril sighed. “Such as?”

“Perhaps Vaneesi needs to understand how much more… deserving we are of the prize.” At this, he ran the tip of his finger along the blade. A drop of blood welled.

Ashiril curled her lip. “If that gets on my rug, you’ll be sleeping with the commoners.”

I should have guessed that she’d allowed him to bed down in her tent rather than in the assigned quarters he shared with the clerks.

“You’d never.”

He’s right. You’d never.

“What if I did? You’ve put us in danger with your theft.”

Raising a brow, Roakiev pulled out the figurine and slid it across the table. Ashiril’s spine stiffened as she laid a hand on it.

She gasped.

My stomach clenched as a sensation of doom filled the tent. Something was very wrong with the bond between Ashiril and the statue.

Do you not feel it? I asked Roakiev.

“What is it, dear sister?” Roakiev asked. “Changing your mind?”

I guess not.

“Vaneesi doesn’t deserve this,” Ashiril whispered. “I’ve known since we arrived that her nightcalling talent is weaker than mine. I doubt she even knows…”

“Knows what?”

Ashiril gave her brother a look just short of condescending. “You wouldn’t understand.”

When one of Roakiev’s lower eyelids began to tremble, I wished I’d never entered the tent. I glanced at the tent wall behind me. If I needed to save myself, I could probably tear through the silk. But once again, he managed to leash his temper.

“I’m thinking,” Roakiev said with an oily smirk, “maybe I will return it. Just for now. We can take it from her on the voyage home.”

“No!” Ashiril said. She snatched the figurine from the table, cradling it against her breastbone. Ready to escape before this escalated, I crept forward and lowered the lid onto the velvet-cushioned rim of her trunk. I flinched at the muffled thump. Ashiril turned, lips parted, eyes wide.

“Leesa,” she said, dazed. “I thought you left.”

Ashiril returned her attention to her brother. “If Vaneesi feels just a glimmer of what the statue can offer, she’d drain the seas to recover it.”

“And what does it offer?” Roakiev asked.

“Fire…”

“Fire?”

“Burning within. Power, Roakiev.”

“Then we’re fortunate her nightcalling talent is weak. I’ll return the figurine and remain close with her. It will be easy to follow your suggestion and relieve her of it once we’re closer to home.”

Ashiril shook her head. “She can’t be allowed near it. Never again. We must eliminate the possibility.”

Roakiev drew back with mock surprise, “Eliminate? Frankly, Ashiril, I’m shocked. It sounds almost as if you’re suggesting we kill the girl. A Yiltak! Are you trying to start a war?”

I see now, I thought, disappointed I hadn’t realized it before. You’ve been steering the conversation in this direction since I arrived. You knew her fascination with the statue would make her easy to manipulate.

“She can’t have it,” Ashiril said.

“Then we have no choice, correct? Or shall I return it and hope she simply hides it away? ”

When Roakiev reached for the figurine, Ashiril jerked it away, greedy.

His eyes narrowed. “Ashiril, dear. I need to hear you say it. Do we kill Vaneesi Yiltak?”

Knuckles white as she squeezed the figurine, Ashiril narrowed her eyes. “Do it,” she hissed.

As he whirled on his heels, Roakiev cast me a smile that was almost a snarl. He stalked to the curtain, shoved it aside, and strode into the night.

In his absence, Ashiril swayed on her seat, eyes locked to the figurine. The shadow of creeping menace seemed to darken the edges of my vision. I considered taking the statue from her. But what good would that do? Even if I fled up the volcano’s dark slopes, the Ulstats would just hunt me down.

The scent of lamp oil was suddenly too much. I needed fresh air. I slipped along the edge of the room and escaped out the flap.

She didn’t notice me leave.

3.

IN THE BOTTOMLESS night outside Ashiril’s shelter, I imagined I could contact Eron. His world was darkness right now, too. Did the guards leave him a torch? A blanket? What did they feed him?

Since the Ulstats had locked him away, I’d worried I would never find out the answers. But by attaching myself to Ashiril, I’d earned the right to hope. The closer I got to the family, the greater the chance I’d find a way to free him.

But the figurine changed everything. I couldn’t explain how I knew, but if Ashiril kept it, I was certain much worse things would happen than a setback to my plan. When she held the figurine, I felt as if evil pressed close, just waiting for the chance to strike.

She couldn’t be allowed to keep it. But I had a way to take it from her.

I clenched my fists as I stood outside Vaneesi’s tent. If Roakiev were already inside, he’d know immediately why I’d come. But if I did nothing, Vaneesi would die, and my hopes would be lost.

With a last quick inhalation to boost my confidence, I clapped the small mallet against the brass bowl she left outside. The low chime hummed beneath my breastbone. Shuffling sounds came from within the tent. I hoped they were produced by Vaneesi tidying the chamber, not by Roakiev hiding a body.

My breath gusted out when she called for me to enter. Heart pattering, I pushed aside the tent flap and stepped in.

The dazzle inside the tent startled me. Vaneesi burned more lamps than even Ashiril, and their oil suffused the air with heavy perfume. Other than that, the heir to House Yiltak had chosen mostly practical belongings to carry with her. Only the ornate carvings and inset gems on her sea trunk hinted at the size of her family’s fortune.

She was reclining on her bunk. Holding a small, leather-bound book, she looked extremely displeased to see me. I wondered if she’d expected Roakiev.

“Whatever your mistress wants, I’m sure it can wait until our next nightcalling shift,” she said.

I seriously doubt that. Once you choose to kill someone, better to get it over with.

I shook my head, chewing my lip as I tried to figure out the right gestures to communicate.

“Yes, it can. Please tell…” She trailed off, realizing I couldn’t tell Ashiril anything.

Here’s the thing. The Ulstats took your figurine, and Roakiev is probably off sharpening his dagger. You need to go tell your father everything. Right now.

I shrugged and shook my head again. Holding out my hand as if cradling the figurine, I tried to mime the expression I’d seen on Ashiril’s face.

Vaneesi set her book aside. “I’m not sure what you’re saying. But Ashiril will take it out on you if I refuse to come, won’t she? Hmm.”

I’m saying you’ll be dead before moonrise!

I tapped my finger against my thigh, trying to figure this out. Roakiev could arrive at any moment. If he caught me here, I was just as dead as Vaneesi. And Eron would languish in his dark prison until he died, too.

I scanned the room, searching for a prop. My eyes fell on a small, silver-clad letter opener. I plucked it off the table.

Vaneesi’s brow knit. I approached her bedside, carrying the letter opener with the blade facing away—best not to let her think I was threatening her. I grabbed her hand and slapped the opener into her palm and curled her fingers around it.

“What are you doing?” she asked, face twisting in offense.

Palms raised, I backed away. I pointed at the small blade. At the door. At her.

They. Are. Coming. To. Kill. You.

“I don’t understand you,” Vaneesi said. “Please leave.”

Lips pressed together over the words I could not form, I shook my head. Vaneesi stood from her bunk, dropping the letter opener on her pillow. Her eyes narrowed.

“Ashiril and Roakiev will hear of this. My sentinel will be displeased with your rude behavior.”

I blinked as tears of frustration welled. How could I make her see? Once again, I reached for the letter opener. Vaneesi snatched my wrist before I got there. Quick as a viper, she slapped her other hand over the first and executed a series of moves that left me bent double, my wrist folded so that the slightest pressure sent lancing pain up my arm.

“Now, as I was saying…”

Please.

When Vaneesi again pressed my palm toward my forearm, filling my throat with a silent shriek, a moment from my vanished past flashed to life. At once, I remembered the Ulstat soldier holding my mother in a similar lock. Her shoulder twisting farther and farther to defend against the pain, and finally a snap.

A small cry escaped my lips.

“No,” I whispered.

The single word echoed, so loud within the empty cavern of my throat that I coughed.

“Did you just…?” Vaneesi’s pressure on my wrist eased.

I closed my eyes, focusing, chasing the feeling of a word on my tongue, a cry on my lips. As I breathed out, I tried again to form the shape. My mouth rounded. My lips parted. As I opened my throat and released the air, I imagined the sound escaping my body, a hollow: ‘o.’

Nothing came.

Vaneesi’s mouth drew up in a smirk. “Can you actually talk? All these weeks of Ashiril boasting the virtues of her mute sentinel… and Roakiev believes her, too.” She laughed. “He’ll be rather upset when I tell him. Ashiril has always annoyed me. I’ll be glad to see her knocked down.”

I shook my head, frantic. Once again, I screwed my eyes shut and imagined the shape of the word.

“No,” I said. This time, there was an ever-so-slight hint of voice behind it. A sound like air blown through a hollow reed.

Vaneesi released my wrist. I staggered. When the backs of my knees hit her bunk, I folded and landed on her covers.

She stared at me, torn between confusion and annoyance.

“It’s—” I coughed. “Sorry.” With each word, I felt as if a blockage tore free from the inside of my throat. The words burned as they pulled the flesh, leaving it raw, but for the first time in ten years, my voice slipped past the barrier.

“Save your apologies for Ashiril,” she said. “You’ll need them. Now, get off my bunk.”

Coughing, I tried to stand, but my knees were too weak. I swallowed, tried again, and finally gained my feet.

“Vaneesi,” I said. “The figurine…”

My throat seared with every whispered phrase, and my eyes stung with unshed tears. Loosed with the words that had been trapped for so many years, memories bubbled from the black murk deep inside my mind. I clenched my fists, fought with all my strength to shove the recollections back down. Not yet.

Vaneesi’s stamped toward me. “Rot! First you don’t speak, now you can’t clap shut.”

“Check… Please.”

Glaring, Vaneesi unhooked the latch on her trunk and pulled the lid open. Her eyes widened.

“Roakiev,” I said.

She shook her head. “You little thieving…”

Once again, I swallowed, coughed. “They will kill you.”

“What?” Her voice reached a shriek. “Get. Out.”

Another moment from my past shoved around my attempts to keep it confined. My father lay on the floor. Something was wrong with his neck… his throat was caved in where the large knot of cartilage used to bob as he spoke. Mother huddled in the corner, a red mark on her face where the soldiers had slapped her. Rough men taunted her, saying if not for her little songbird of a daughter, they wouldn’t have found us. They’d said something about a gallows, hard to hear over the roaring in my head. I’d hidden in the bin where we stored our oatmeal.

The smell of oats and blood. I understood now.

“Are you deaf now, instead?” Vaneesi asked.

“It’s… truth,” I said, pleading with my eyes.

“Oh really,” she said, brows raised in mock surprise, “after convincing everyone you were mute when you can clearly speak, now you want me to believe you’re trustworthy?”

At once, my chest hurt so badly I couldn’t breathe. My mother and father. Murdered because I hadn’t kept quiet like they asked.

“What’s your name again?” Vaneesi asked. “It will be easier to explain this to the Ulstats when I have it.”

I tried to answer. Leesa. But I’d had a name before, too. Different than what they called me in the kitchens. Memories of my mother flooded me, her arms around me, her rhymes whispered in my ear. She’d kissed my hair, wished me good night. Called me the name she’d given me at birth. But I couldn’t remember. That name was lost. I’d thrown it away with my voice.

Vaneesi’s slippered feet stopped in front of me. “What is wrong with you?”

“Why… Why would I lie?” I finally managed.

“Because you stole my figurine.”

Even as she spoke, I spotted uncertainty in her eyes. Her heart was given to Roakiev, but she’d seen enough of him to doubt.

“Ashiril…” I said.

“Ashiril what?” she said, crouching before me, brows drawing together.

“The figurine… Power.” My throat hurt so badly, but it was nothing compared to the pain in my heart. While I tried to convince her, my memories battered me.

A strange look came over Vaneesi’s face. Planting a hand, she lowered herself to a cross-legged seat on the ground. “After I found the statue, it was easier to call the nightstrands. But power?”

“You trust Roakiev,” I said. “A mistake.”

A dark flash crossed her delicate features, but she covered it quickly. Maybe I’d pushed her too hard. But I couldn’t waste time. Roakiev could arrive at any moment.

“Most traders would have you punished for daring to question their judgment. You’re not stupid. Why tell me all this?”

I licked my lips, a flicker of hope joining the ache in my chest. “Because I’m not a monster.”

Vaneesi’s face grew abruptly hard. “You’re saying Roakiev is?”

“I couldn’t let him kill you. That’s all.” The unfamiliar vibration in my throat shook loose a cough. “And the figurine. Dangerous.”

Vaneesi tugged at the fabric of her trousers, pulling it first one way then another while she considered my words. When she looked up at me, I saw acceptance in her eyes.

“When?” she asked.

“I don’t know. Soon.”

A tear slipped down her cheek. “I thought he cared for me.”

It wasn’t my job to console her. I doubted I had the strength, anyway. Not while under assault by my own excruciating memories. “They can’t find me here,” I said, the words coming more easily now.

I stepped around her, pushed aside the tent flap and slipped into the perpetual night. Vaneesi didn’t bother to thank me as I left, but I hadn’t expected that much from a trader.

While my eyes adjusted, I stood silently, alert for signs that someone had been listening in. But the area surrounding Vaneesi’s tent was empty. Undisturbed. As I hurried away from the shelter, I folded my arms across my chest to hold together my shattering heart.

4.

I CARRIED NO lantern as I ran into the dark, out and away from the encampment. Only the ruddy glow of the volcano lit the path ahead. I focused on the trail, the steady pounding of my feet that jarred my hip sockets. I wanted to understand the figurine. It was important, and my best hope for answers was investigating the building Vaneesi had found. I could deal with my returned memories and recovered voice later.

But once I reached the frozen lava flow, I couldn’t hold the recollections back any longer. They roared over me in a landslide.

I’d killed my parents.

Mother had been so stern with her warnings. I was not allowed to go outside our hiding place, a small room at the back of a metalworker’s shop. No matter how tempted I might be to peer out the window, I could not even approach it. And I absolutely had to be quiet. No singing for the next few days.

The hardened lava was warm beneath my hands, stringy like pulled taffy. I clutched rounded ribs and wedged my toes into crevices as I clambered onto the flow. The black ribbon stretched from the sea to the mountain’s smoldering peak. It was like my guilt, a black stain across my soul.

I trudged across the stone river, remembering those long-ago nights before the soldiers came, how my mother had cried in my father’s arms. Father had only stolen from the Ulstats because they had more than they needed. Because my cheeks were sunken and my belly hollow.

He’d stopped breathing when the men took Mother away. After throwing around spare tools stored by the metalworker, and needlessly ripping and stomping on our spare clothing, the soldier had found me hiding in the oats. Laughing, my captor had held my face close to my father’s. Dull eyes looked back at me, already filming over. Father had smelled wrong, both sour and sweet.

As the moon rose, silver over the ocean, I remembered the sound my mother’s neck made when it snapped. Trader Ulstat had sat beside me for the hanging, forcing me to watch before sending me back to the kitchens.

As I neared the edge of the lava flow, I crept forward, alert to movement and sound. I didn’t expect to run into the Ulstats out here, but if I was wrong and they caught me, I would disappear. The rest of the expedition would never know what had happened to me.

The angle of the moon sent silver rays into the ancient structure. I shivered as I entered. I traced a few of the runes with my finger. The edges of the individual chisel marks were sharp, as if the hammer strikes were made in anger. In greed. In jealousy.

Ashiril’s words came back to me. Fire… burning within. Power, Roakiev.

I jerked my hand away.

Crouching, I ran my palms over the floor then crawled around the plinth where Vaneesi had found the figurine. I searched for compartments, niches, any hint about the obsidian statuette. Nothing.

As I felt along the bottom edge of the pedestal, examining the seam where the stone met the floor of smooth slabs, a rumble shook the structure.

I stiffened; the few tremors I’d felt since we anchored had been much weaker.

A hint of sulfur wafted into the building as another quake shook the earth. From outside, the patter of falling pumice rat-tatted against the scree and brush.

I sprinted outside and whirled to look at the volcano. Where before the ash cloud had been a low, clinging fog hugging the smoldering cone, it now billowed to twice the height of the peak, shrouding the aurora. Lava arced across the sky. Air-filled stones pelted my head and shoulders, stinging. I flinched and covered my head with my arms. I whirled toward the shrine. Inside, the pedestal had toppled, revealing a hole beneath. But as I bolted for the shelter, a hot gush of air and flare of searing light stopped me short.

Less than two hundred paces uphill, a fresh spurt of lava had broken from the frozen river, jetting out the side and oozing, inexorably, straight for me.

In a minute, maybe less, the shrine would be buried. Entombed.

I sprinted downhill, bound for the still-solid portion of the lava river. My hands slapped the stone. Warm, but not yet hot—I understood now… what looked like a frozen stream was instead a hollow tube carrying molten lava to the sea. Seizing hold of the petrified folds of stone, I vaulted onto the black river and sprinted for the other side. Behind me, fire crackled then roared as the brush leaped into flame ahead of the red-hot flow. Falling stone pummeled my flesh—to one side, a boulder smashed down, ejecting chips that stung, even through my clothing. Ash soon hazed the scene, and acrid steam seared my nostrils.

I leaped from the flow and raced toward the camp, all the while glancing up toward the roaring mountain.

Lit from below, the ash cloud rose higher, spread further.

The paths outside the tents were deserted. Lanterns had toppled, spilling oil in burning pools. As I dashed for my shelter, a boulder smashed down beside it. With a twang, a support rope snapped. The pavilion collapsed, deflating as falling stones battered it. I backpedaled and fell and curled into a ball, arms protecting my head.

The forges. They were my best hope. As I forced myself to a crouch, the growl abruptly quieted. The rain of stones grew lighter then stopped. I remained frozen, irrationally afraid that movement would trigger the volcano’s wrath. Teeth gritted, I waited for another quake or a fresh spray of lava from the peak. Nothing came.

Slowly, the cloud of ash spread wide, veiling the stars and the aurora, but thinning. The sound of waves reached my ears, crashing against the lava reef that defended the island from large ocean swells. After a few minutes, I climbed to my feet gawked at the scene.

Tents and lanterns had fallen. Stacks of supplies were scattered. But those things could be quickly righted. Somehow, the expedition had survived. I closed my eyes, both shocked and relieved.

Moments later, the alarm gong clanged.

I shook my head and grimaced, bewildered by the awful noise. Why raise the alarm after the eruption? The worst was over.

A few, rattled-looking people crawled from their tents. Glancing uphill, I spotted the rest exiting the archways leading into the forges. Led by Trader Yiltak, they descended the slope and filed into the center of the village. Beckoning everyone closer, the trader waited while a sailor pushed a pair of crates together. Vaneesi’s father stepped onto the makeshift platform and glared down at the gathered crowd. The ship’s captain stood to the side of the platform. A woman hardened by years at sea, her face was grim. But she’d have to work much harder to match the severe look on the trader’s face.

This isn’t about the eruption… I thought to Trader Yiltak. Vaneesi told you about the Ulstats plan. Thank the tides.

Finally, Trader Yiltak decided he had sufficient eyes on him. With a slice of his hand, he called for the alarm to be stopped.

The resulting silence roared in my ears.

“I’m afraid I have troubling news,” Trader Yiltak said.

But why are you telling everyone? Did they run once they’d been found out?

Regardless, now that the Yiltaks understood the level of treachery the Ulstats were capable of, there would be no more alliances. Eron’s group had aimed to undermine the Ulstats’ status, weakening them enough for the commoners to rise up. I’d hoped to continue his work but had never dreamed I’d be so successful. With the Yiltaks against them, Roakiev and Ashiril had no chance of retaining power in Ilaraok.

In front of me, a deckhand from the ship grumbled to his neighbor, “Think he’s going to tell us the volcano erupted? I hadn’t noticed.”

The captain glared at her crewman, silencing him.

“When the eruption began, I sent a boy to summon the nightcaller and acolyte to the forges for safety.”

And once the girls were summoned, your daughter pulled you aside and told you what it happened. I paused as I scanned the crowd for Ashiril. As I’d suspected, she must have fled following Vaneesi’s accusation. Roakiev, too. Or have you already imprisoned them until this can be resolved?

A few crew members shifted, getting bored with the preamble.

Just wait, I thought at them. You’ll be able to entertain your friends for years with your story about a scandal between traders.

“There’s no good way to say this,” Trader Yiltak continued. “Ashiril Ulstat has been murdered.”

5.

MY HEART STOPPED beating. Ashiril? Dead?

Shocked silence followed Trader Yiltak’s words. I tried to back up, but the crowd had closed behind me. I searched the gathered faces for Vaneesi. If I’d known she would turn around and kill Ashiril, I’d have gone to her father instead.

Or did you do it? I thought at him. Were you so furious upon hearing what the Ulstats planned that you took your revenge by murdering her?

Scattered murmurs grew to a confused babble, which in turn swelled to a nervous roar. After a moment, Trader Yiltak raised his hands, asking for silence.

“Until we find Ashiril’s killer, I’m putting the expedition on a strict curfew. All members must return to your tents. For most of you, it will be easy to determine your movements in the hours before the eruption. Once we identify those of you with clear alibis, you’ll be excused to your duties. Until then—” He nodded at the darkened area between tents. “— Captain Rivanei has picked a handful of trusted men and women to enforce the restriction.”

At the trader’s nod, half a dozen deckhands and oarsmen stepped toward the group, hands on makeshift clubs and long fishing knives.

“Any questions?” Trader Yiltak asked.

What are you going to do when Roakiev comes for his own revenge?

As if angry at his words, the volcano rumbled.

“Actually, Trader… I have a theory.”

What? I whirled on Roakiev, who had spoken from just behind my shoulder. Where had he been hiding? His eyes flicked to me, and he flashed his teeth. A sick feeling flooded my gut. As I stepped away from him, a small hand wrapped my forearm.

Vaneesi squeezed as she stepped close. “Trust me,” she whispered.

What is this? I shook my head as my throat squeezed down over my breath.

“Yes, Heir Ulstat?” Trader Yiltak said, his disgust with Roakiev poorly concealed. Suddenly, I wished I’d done everything I could to understand the situation between the trader families. Maybe it could help me here because I didn’t think much would.

Roakiev’s hand grasped the back of my neck, his nails knifing into the fragile skin beneath my earlobes. With a growl, he shoved me forward.

Vaneesi tried to keep a grip on my arm but failed. I craned my neck to catch her eyes.

Did you and Roakiev work together to kill his sister? Was I too stupid to realize you were far too infatuated to believe me?

Wide eyes watched me pass as I stumbled under Roakiev’s grip. Like his mother, the Ulstat heir was stronger than he looked. Tears leaked from the corners of my eyes as his nails cut my flesh.

“I have no question as to who would want my sister dead,” Roakiev said.

And I’m the perfect scapegoat. I have no alibi because I spent the time before the eruption mourning my parents.

Trader Yiltak looked Roakiev up and down. “As far as I’m concerned, the question of motive is quite open.”

“I’ve watched her since we left Ilaraok,” Roakiev said. “The way she stared at my sister made me nervous. Her envy was… poisonous.”

When I tried to shake my head in protest, Roakiev only dug his nails deeper.

It’s a lie, I thought to everyone watching. The only thing Ashiril saw on my face was obedience. Roakiev knows it.

A muffled chuckle rose from the rear of the crowd. At least one person found it laughable that someone would envy Ashiril. Eyes blazing, Roakiev whirled on the gathering. As he spun, he dragged me with him. Vision blurred by unshed tears, I searched for Vaneesi. The press of the crowd hid her from me.

Or maybe Vaneesi didn’t do it. I thought to Roakiev. I remember the conversation Ashiril had with your mother about the inheritance. As long as your sister lived, your title wasn’t safe.

But if Roakiev had murdered his sister, what did Vaneesi know about it? Why had she whispered that I should trust her? Once again, I cursed my blindness to the relationship between the families. Not that it mattered much at this point.

“Envy is not sufficient grounds to accuse her,” Trader Yiltak said. “As long as she can explain her whereabouts, we have no reason to suspect her.”

And as soon as I speak, everyone who knew me to be mute will decide I’m a liar. I might as well admit to murdering Ashiril.

Roakiev shook me, setting my teeth rattling. “Surely you know her affliction, Trader. She has no voice.”

Trader Yiltak sighed. “Right. I’d forgotten. Well, others will have seen her.” He cast his gaze over the crowd as if searching for someone to corroborate.

Hope flared in my chest when I spied Vaneesi shoving forward. The Yiltak heir shouldered into men twice her weight, undaunted by the glares she earned.

“I have information, father,” she said. Though her voice was quiet, scarcely audible over the low rumble from the mountain and the distant hiss of lava entering the sea, Vaneesi commanded instant attention.

As she approached, she tossed me a barely perceptible nod. My thumping heart slowed. This had been her plan all along. Somehow, she was going to turn this around on Roakiev.

“Go ahead,” her father said.

“I’m afraid Roakiev is correct,” she said.

What? You betraying, filthy wretch! I saved your worthless life!

Hands clawing, I leaped at her. Roakiev squeezed my neck harder, tearing flesh. As I thrashed, he threw an arm across my chest and pinned my arms to my side. Grunting, he wrapped his other arm around my neck and squeezed my windpipe shut. I stopped struggling if only to keep from passing out.

Trader Yiltak cleared his throat. “I see. And her actions appear to confirm that accusation. But when it comes to murder, I’m afraid I still need evidence to convict.”

Vaneesi nodded. She wouldn’t look at me now.

I hope the rot takes you, I thought as I glowered at her.

“She came to me. At the time, I couldn’t interpret her… pantomiming. But now I understand. She was asking for help in eliminating her mistress.”

You disgust me. I never thought I’d meet someone worse than the Ulstats.

Wriggling against Roakiev’s grip, I shoved an elbow into his gut. If I could just get away… hide somewhere in the dark of the island. His arm tightened again, cutting off my breath. I saw spots.

Moments later, a sailor’s rough hands fell on my arms. Tar and salt grimed his thick fingernails. Clamping down hard enough to bruise, my captor dragged me to the very base of the platform.

“You’re sure of this, Heir Yiltak?” Trader Yiltak asked, using his daughter’s formal title. “As you just mentioned, it can be difficult to understand someone’s intent when they can’t speak.”

Why hadn’t she just given that away, too?

Maybe that’s what you’re trying to do now, I thought. A final proof of my deceitful nature. A way to remove any last doubts.

Vaneesi closed the remaining distance with the platform and stood beside me. “I suppose I can’t be certain she wanted my help. Eventually, I gave up trying to understand her and asked her to leave. In any case, I saw her enter Ashiril’s tent about an hour before the eruption. And as I ran for the forges, I spotted her slipping away into the dark.”

I slumped, my knees giving way. Only the sailor’s grip kept me upright. There was nothing left to do. A glance at the crowd told me that every one of them believed Vaneesi. And why not? She was a trader, heir to an enormous fortune. Whereas I was a simple, mute servant.

My heart pleaded with me to defend myself. If not for me, for Eron. But it would do no good. No one would believe me now. Vaneesi was standing so close I could smell the scented oil she dabbed below her ears. Raised by the light breeze blowing from the sea, goosebumps roughed the delicate skin of her neck.

Pursing my lips, I spat on her face.

6.

THE SHIP HAD no brig. Instead, the captain threw me in a dank storage cabin in the lowest level of the hold and barred the door from the outside. The only light that entered my cell was when someone brought a lantern into the hold. Then, a thin bar of yellow glow showed beneath the door. I hungered for that light. When it came, I fell to the floor and pressed my face close.

Once a day, a deckhand arrived with a chunk of bread and a pail of water. Every other feeding, they traded out the bucket I used as a chamber pot. Aside from that, I saw no one for days. I knew when we’d cast off from the island by the rocking of the hull.

During the first week at sea, sores opened on my hips and shoulders from curling on my side on the mildewed wood. I tried to sleep sitting up; I was wedged into the corner of the cabin when the door flew open. After seeing nothing but the faint glow from beneath the door, plus the wedge of light when my food arrived, the glare of Roakiev Ulstat’s blazing lantern stabbed my eyes.

“Leesa,” he said. “You poor, wretched thing.”

Roakiev. You vile, insane monster.

I’d accidentally spilled my water pail last meal, leaving my mouth dry and tacky. Otherwise, I would have spat on his face, too.

“I plan to ask permission to preside over your trial,” he said, stepping into my cell and hanging the lantern from a wall hook. His eyes gleamed at the sight of me cowering before him, the beaten prisoner. I clenched a fist, imagined my punch knocking out teeth. But I had no strength left.

Roakiev Ulstat crouched before me, wrinkling his nose at the stench of my bucket, the smell of hours of fear sweats.

“You know, if it hadn’t been for Ashiril requesting you as a servant, I might have taken you as my own. She was such a silly girl, but she understood your value. Such loyalty there is in silence, yes?”

Give me your dagger, and I’ll show you loyalty.

Despite my filth, he reached out and cupped my cheek. In the glow of the lantern, his face showed hunger. Finally, I found my strength and jerked away.

Roakiev grinned. “So you are more than you appear, after all. Intriguing…”

I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of taking away my silence. As his eyes traveled the length of my body, I glared back, denying him the pleasure of seeing my fear

With a snarl, he stood, snatched the lantern, and stalked from my cell. The bar slammed home with a hollow thunk.

More days passed, and then I awoke to light leaking through a seam high on the outer wall of my cell. Though most of my cabin lay below the water line, the upper planks of the wall were above the waves. I crawled to the wall. With fingers scrabbling at the wood for support, I clawed myself upright and tried to smell the warmth of the sun.

Daylight: we’d finally crossed out of the months-long night that shrouded Ioene. Within two weeks, we’d make landfall at the first of the Kiriilt Islands. After visiting a handful of ports to allow tradespeople to disembark, we’d dock at Araok island. My ordeal in the ship’s hold was nearly over.

Soon enough, I’d know my punishment. Sometimes, I’d let myself imagine they’d throw me into the mine with Eron. But deep down, I knew that was an impossible hope. They’d kill me. All that remained to discover was how.

I sank to the floor and must have fallen asleep. The next thing I knew, my cell door once again flew open.

Vaneesi Yiltak faced me from the opening. For a moment, pity flashed across her face before she hardened herself and turned to the oarsman who’d escorted her below.

“Leave us,” she said.

Though he hesitated, Vaneesi’s raised chin allowed no argument. Moments later, he’d retreated from sight and—I assumed—from earshot.

Nonetheless, Vaneesi pulled the door shut behind her when she entered, securing it with a small hook through an eyebolt. As Roakiev had, she hung her lantern on the hook and peered down at me.

“Not going to spit in my face this time?” she asked.

Just come closer… I narrowed my eyes at her, wishing I weren’t so utterly exhausted.

“Oh, forget the act,” she continued. “I know you can talk.”

Should I give her the gift of my voice? I’d done that once, and it had gained me nothing but pain.

“Listen,” she said, “it was the only way. If I didn’t support Roakiev, he would have killed me—and you—anyway.”

I stared at her before deciding I had no reason to keep quiet when I could strip away her lies. “I might believe someone else. But all you had to do was tell your father. Instead, you killed Ashiril and blamed me for it.”

Vaneesi sank to the floor, heedless of the layer of filth and the stains where my chamber pot had spilled a few days before. She shook her head.

“I wouldn’t have been able to convince my father. Not on the word of a servant.”

“You can tell yourself that if it makes you feel less guilty. But don’t try to convince me.”

“And I didn’t kill her.”

Lies.

Why bother to argue with her? I looked away. Eventually, she’d get tired of waiting for a response and would leave.

“Listen, Leesa. There are… issues between my family and the Ulstats.”

I’d noticed. But they don’t seem to extend to you and Roakiev.

She ran her hand through her hair. “But there are far worse problems with the other trader Houses. The Yiltaks and the Ulstats have argued for as long as we remember. But we’re also the two most powerful Houses in the Islands. And the other Houses want to knock us down. They’ve formed a council and a joint force of soldiers. Any effort my family spends fighting the Ulstats gives the council a chance to strike.”

I continued to stare at the wall. So your father would rather you die than anger House Ulstat? Doesn’t that make you sad? My father might be dead, but at least he loved me.

“And I guess I didn’t quite believe your story. I thought that you must’ve been mistaken… If I was going to bring this to my father and deal with all the consequences, I wanted to be sure.”

Why bother when you could just kill Ashiril. Or did you get Roakiev to do it?

“I went to Ashiril’s tent to see for myself. Maybe it was stupid.”

“Not a stupid as falling in love with Roakiev Ulstat,” I snapped, unable to help myself.

She smirked. “You think I actually cared for him?”

“If I’ve learned anything as a mute, it’s how to watch people.”

“And if I’ve learned anything as a trader, it’s how to deceive.”

At once, she stared at me with the same, moon-faced devotion she’d turned upon Roakiev. After a breath, her face crumpled as a tear welled and spilled down her cheek. Finally, she raised a brow and smirked.

Do you have any real emotions? I thought.

“The only way to prevent the council from toppling my family is to add the Ulstats’ strength to ours. I know about the madness that runs in their blood. And I know that dosing with coppernettle tea will accelerate it. After we are wed and I produce an heir, I won’t have to endure Roakiev for long. Once the mind goes, the body soon follows. Many in their family have died before thirty.”

My lip twisted in disgust. “Your father’s plan or yours?”

She shrugged. “It doesn’t really matter. My father has asked many things of me that I didn’t want to do. It’s part of being heir to a trader House.”

“So why are you here? Am I supposed to pity you? Forgive you?”

“I came because I want to help you,” she said.

“You could’ve started by not killing Ashiril…”

“It was Roakiev,” she said. “I saw it. But I think… I think it may have been the only good thing he’s done in his life. When I came into the tent, she had the figurine and they were fighting. The room was hot, and her skin was… almost fiery.”

Vaneesi shuddered. Despite myself, I nodded.

“She threw her brother across the room,” she said. “Ashiril, who wouldn’t lift her own fork if she could help it. While her attention was on him, I jumped on her from behind. It was just enough of a distraction that Roakiev was able to move in. He slit her throat without a hint of remorse.”

“And then you two made the plan to blame me.”

She shrugged. It was all the answer I needed.

“Who has the figurine now?” I asked.

“I do. And no Ulstat will ever touch it again.”

I rolled my eyes at her. “You speak as if you’re so much more honorable than they are.”

At this, Vaneesi’s lips thinned. “I said I wanted to help you. Roakiev plans to make your trial last a very long time. He wants to keep you on the House Ulstat grounds because he enjoys seeing you so helpless. I encouraged him.”

“How kind of you.”

“But listen, I have contacts. The longer the trial, the better the chance I can put plans in motion. With luck, I can help you escape.”

I couldn’t help the spark of hope that flared. “There’s another… He’s imprisoned on Araok Island.”

Vaneesi’s face hardened, her trader mask falling into place. “I believe you mistake my sense of responsibility for something else. It’s due to me that you are accused, and therefore I would see you freed. But I will not further risk myself for someone to whom I owe no debt.”

“Then leave. And I hope the rot takes you.”

With a shrug, she stood and dusted the filth off her finely-sewn trader garments. The door shut behind her, thudding softly on the damp wood of the walls before the bar dropped home. As soon as the shadows of her feet moved off, I scrambled for the center of my cell.

When she’d dusted herself off, a few auburn hairs had fallen from her jacket. I plucked them from the floor and folded them into a crumpled handkerchief from my pocket. By the time the light beneath the door was snuffed, I had the first inklings of a plan.

Roakiev wanted to keep me close to watch me suffer. Good.

7.

THE SHIP NUDGED the dock at Araok Island with a jolt. From outside, the smell of burning coal filtered into the ship, the stench of ore refineries and the fish market and dark stone baking beneath the midday sun.

I could no longer stand. I could scarcely crawl. But I managed to splash water over my face. Regardless of the accusations, I would keep my head high when they dragged me through the streets. As it was, no one fetched me for hours. When the door finally opened, revealing a hold emptied of cargo, Roakiev smiled down at me, his teeth white in the darkness.

Roakiev had brought only one guardsman to lead me from the ship. Unable to walk, I was forced to lean against my captors for support. I recoiled from Roakiev’s touch, but he didn’t seem to notice. Once away from the waterfront, the guard just threw me over his shoulder and carried me through the city.

They deposited me into a dank cellar inside a storage shed on the House Ulstat grounds. Hours later, a guard unbolted the hatch and held up a lantern while Iriinet climbed into my dark hole carrying a small sack.

“Oh, Leesa,” she cried when she saw me. She whirled at the guard. “Give me the rotted lantern. Poor girl is half starved.”

With a shrug, he passed it down. “Your choice if you want to get bitten by rats.”

Iriinet hurried over and crouched beside me. As she smoothed my hair, a tear slipped down her cheek.

You do care. It was me that shut everyone out.

From her sack, she pulled a soft roll, already cut with butter melting inside. The airy bread dissolved in my mouth, warm and yeasty and the best thing I’d tasted in months. A small flask of water sloshed when she held it before me.

As a cool swallow slipped down my throat, I realized I was crying, too. I glanced at the hatch leading out of the cellar. The guard had moved off.

“I had a mother,” I whispered. “You would’ve liked her.”

Iriinet’s eyes widened as she laid a hand on my cheek. “I can’t believe it. You’re healed.”

I smiled sadly. “I was never sick. I’d just forgotten how to find my voice. But Iriinet, you can’t tell anyone.”

“Why? I know you didn’t kill Ashiril like they said. Why not defend yourself?”

“Would anyone believe me?” I asked.

Iriinet fiddled with the tie for her sack while she considered. “No, I don’t suppose they would.”

“But I will defend myself. I have a plan. I just need someone to help me.”

Iriinet’s hands fell on my shoulders. “You’re the closest thing to a daughter that I’ll ever have, Leesa. Of course I’ll help you.”

“All right, what is it?” Lady Ulstat grimaced and raised the hem of her skirt off the cellar floor as she approached me, Iriinet at her heels.

“Well?” Iriinet snapped at me. “Show her.”

Cowering, I pulled the small, leather pouch from my pants pocket. My hand trembled when I held it out to Lady Ulstat. The woman accepted it, pinching a fold of the leather with just two fingers as if to avoid my stench rubbing off on her.

“A pouch. What does this have to do with my daughter’s death?”

“May I?” Iriinet asked.

Lady Ulstat was all too eager to drop it into her outstretched palm. Iriinet on cinched the drawstring and pulled out two small herb pouches. She opened one and sniffed before holding it beneath Lady Ulstat’s nose. The lady glanced, sideways at her, hesitated, then inhaled. Her eyes widened.

“Coppernettle,” Iriinet confirmed.

Lady Ulstat turned her glare on me. “Did you hope to accelerate my son’s decline?”

I shook my head, violently, side to side. I pointed, first at the other herb pouch, then at the larger sack.

“Wait, Lady. There’s more. With this other packet,” Iriinet said, “you’re less likely to know it by smell. After all, you had no problem with your monthly courses or with conceiving.”

Lady Ulstat snatched the little pouch away, opened it, and peered inside. “What is it?”

“Beetlespot root. Powdered. I tested a small pinch. When you mix it in water, it turns a violet color.”

“Yes, fine. But what does it do?”

“The truth is I don’t think it works. But women who have problems with their cycles, usually leading to difficulties in becoming pregnant, are often desperate to try anything.”

The lady’s nostrils flared as she sighed. “So why does our murderer have these?”

“Actually, I think you may find her innocent of that. Leesa can’t speak, you know. But she showed me these.” As Iriinet spoke, she pulled Vaneesi’s auburn hairs from the pouch.

Lady Ulstat’s eyes narrowed. She whirled on me. “Where did you get this?”

I began gesturing without much hope I’d be understood. But Iriinet and I had worked out a script. After a moment, she laid a hand on my shoulder before turning to Lady Ulstat.

“I don’t mean to presume, Lady, but I have only seen that hair color on one person.”

“Vaneesi Yiltak,” Lady Ulstat said. “But why would she have coppernettle? Surely not to harm Roakiev. We were assured by our spies that House Yiltak knows nothing about the Ulstat affliction.”

Iriinet wisely held her tongue while Lady Ulstat began to pace.

“But if she were aware, and still seemed receptive to Roakiev’s advances . . . Maybe she had her own secrets. Such as this inability to conceive.”

Even in the dim light in the chamber, I could see spots of anger high on Lady Ulstat’s cheeks.

“Every other trader House has refused to consider a betrothal due to Roakiev’s harsh reputation. Before Vaneesi showed interest, we were prepared to force a commoner into an arrangement.” As she spoke, the lady grimaced. “My husband should have disinherited him when he had the chance. But with Ashiril gone, we have only Roakiev to further the line.”

I hadn’t heard about these problems finding a match for Roakiev, but I wasn’t all that surprised. As Lady Ulstat paced, I wondered whether she even cared about her daughter’s murder beyond her concern for continuing the family name.

Abruptly, she whirled on me. “Did you steal this from the Yiltak girl?”

I shook my head then pointed at her and gestured in front of my belly, indicating the round stomach of a pregnant woman. Next, I pretended to hold a baby, rocking her in my arms.

Lady Ulstat blinked, confused. “My baby? But I don’t… Are you talking about Ashiril?”

I nodded vigorously.

“Ashiril found this?”

Again, I nodded.

“Ashiril must have confronted Vaneesi,” Iriinet said. “Clearly, Vaneesi went to great lengths to protect her secret. And poor Roakiev was misled into helping the true murderer accuse Leesa.”

At once, Lady Ulstat’s face went white. “I must speak to my husband immediately. House Yiltak will suffer for this.”

As she climbed through the hatch, she motioned for the guard. “Get this girl out of here. She needs a bath before she is allowed in the main house again.”

The guard grunted as he descended the ladder, stomped over, and snatched me under the armpit. I didn’t protest as he half-dragged me out of the cellar. I was too busy thinking about Lady Ulstat’s words. Finally, I understood how I’d free Eron.

Part Three

Five years later

1.

Words have power—everyone knows that. What few recognize is the power that lies in silence.

That line begins my book, a collection of thoughts and memories I’ve written down for Eron. It’s been half a decade since I last saw him. There’s so much to tell, and I don’t want to forget a single thing.

For now, I stand at the bedside of my husband, Roakiev. In his delirium, Roakiev raves and swats at phantoms. After the fit, he collapses, too weak to fight as I spoon more coppernettle tea into his mouth. With this dose, I’ve added star aster. Though the coppernettle gradually steals his wits, the star aster brings temporary clarity. After the death of Roakiev’s parents, lost when their trading vessel sank in a storm, the House healer began using it a few times a week so that Roakiev could make decisions as prime trader. But in the last few weeks, not even the star aster has been able to drag him back to sanity.

Today, though, the dosage is strong enough that he’ll be able to understand. At least a little.

Iriinet’s niece is a herbalist. She’s helped me with many preparations since my wedding, beginning with a concoction to steal his desire—I had no intent of being a true wife or mother to an Ulstat. It wasn’t easy to be chosen as the next Lady Ulstat—not compared to becoming Ashiril’s sentinel. But between the parents’ belief that I’d exposed Vaneesi and Roakiev’s fascination with my silent obedience, I managed the betrothal. Since the marriage, I’ve been building a loyal base among the servants and guards. And of course, the Ilaraok commoners love me.

“I wanted you to know the other trader Houses have recognized your request to make me regent,” I say when Roakiev’s eyes begin to clear. “Oh, do you not remember signing the document? Maybe your dosage of star aster that day was less potent than I thought. . . At any rate, I’ve heard objections from some of your cousins. But they can’t take it from me. Especially while there’s still a chance I’ll produce an heir. So I’ll be making choices in your name until you die. And my herbalist has many ideas on how to prolong that process.”

His tongue works inside his mouth as if he wants to say something. But only a garbled moan escapes.

“Shocking, isn’t it? I can talk. Aside from Vaneesi Yiltak and dear Iriinet, you’re the only person who knows. Tell no one.” I say with mock severity.

“How does it feel to be trapped inside your mind? Unable to make yourself understood…”

Roakiev manages to close his lips over his traitorous tongue. His eyes narrow, hateful. The star aster is working better than I expected.

“I assure you I’ll use my authority wisely. And you’ll be as comfortable as I can make you. I like to imagine that you weren’t always cruel. You were a child once, after all, beloved by his mother in whatever manner she could manage. Maybe that little boy is still buried somewhere inside the man you became.”

He mumbles something, drool running across his cheek.

“Well, I see you’re fading already,” I say. “I’ll have one of the healers bring a tonic to ease your hallucinations. Good night, husband.”

He holds onto sanity just long enough to glare. I smile sweetly. By the time I leave the room, he is raving again.

2.

THE DAY IS hot when I lead my group of guardsmen along the faint trail winding into the hills. In my satchel, as always, I carry a book and quill to use for giving orders. It means that I have to think carefully before making a demand because writing is slow, and then I have to wait for one of my literate clerks to convey my words. But I like that. It makes me careful.

“Regent Ulstat?” a guard asks.

I look up, still unused to the title. On the streets of Ilaraok, most people call me the silent queen, a reference to our distant past, before the Islands splintered into rule by individual trader Houses. In those days, the rulers were kind. Or at least that’s what nostalgia tells us. In any case, I’m flattered.

The main entrance to the decommissioned mine is overgrown. Roakiev’s father insisted it would help hide the prison. Meanwhile, he had a separate entrance dug. Only workers from other islands were used; as far as I know, no Ilaraok commoner knows about the tunnel that leaves from one of the gardens within the Ulstat compound.

I won’t be using that tunnel today. Instead, I’ve demanded the mine be reopened—as far as anybody knows, I’m ignorant to the real use of the tunnels. I only want more ore for our smelters. Although everyone here is hand-picked for their loyalty to me, I want everything believable. Otherwise, if the cousins and aunts and uncles were to hear about this, they might try to unseat me again. But until they can be certain I’ll produce no heir, I doubt they’ll have the strength.

I give my nod to go ahead, and a small scouting group advances into the mine. I sit on a stool to wait, watching the sun track across the sky. No one can know how hard my heart is pounding. I can’t let them see how difficult it is to breathe. After perhaps half an hour, a runner returns, red-faced and breathless. I pretend to be shocked, widening my eyes in question.

“Regent, we’ve discovered something…”

By midafternoon, the prisoners have been brought into the bright, Araokan sunlight. I have no difficulty recognizing Eron. When he runs for me, it’s all I can do to keep from embracing him. He falls on his knees before me.

“You! You want to go back in there?” one of my guardsmen yells as he grabs Eron. “Lady Ulstat will not be approached by the likes of you.”

Hearing those words, Eron’s hands drop to his sides. “Leesa? You’re married?”

I wave my guard off then motion for Eron to approach. I’ve prepared an order ahead of time, a request for my clerks to find a new doorman for House Ulstat. I flip my book open to the page and hold it up to be read.

I need your help, beloved, I say to Eron. House Ulstat has weaknesses. Secrets that can be used against them. Will you join me?

Dear Reader,

I hope you enjoyed the tale. Real quick: if you’d like to jump into the main series, here are the links.

Visit Nightforged to grab a copy of the first book.

And head to www.CarrieSummers.com to get in touch with me or sign up for release news, discounts and bonus chapters.

Thanks again!

Carrie