But there was that crushing ache of hope again, twisting and writhing inside her like poison. She shoved it down.
“I…don’t understand.”
The queen leaned forward. “This is no trick. It really is quite simple: would you like to return to the dungeons or would you prefer to be crowned a queen—in every sense of the word?”
If it truly wasn’t a trick, if there was no catch, then Signe was right. It really was that simple. Elora could remain in a dungeon or ascend to a throne—either way, she would still be a prisoner. But didn’t one of those options sound slightly less terrible than the other?
“Yes.” Elora’s voice cracked—not the way she wanted to start her reign as a queen. She straightened her back, the chains around her wrists clanking. “It would be my honor to end the feud between the Ashen and the Ironbloods. I will be your queen if Prince Leighton will have me.”
Outside the castle walls, Elora swore she heard the solemn rumble of thunder.
Chapter 2
Into the Wilds
KESTREL
Drumming her fingers on the stone windowsill, Kestrel stared across the sea at the dragon bones half-buried in the sand.
From where she was perched in the highest window in a tower on an opposite shore, the sun-bleached carcass was a small thing that she could pinch between her fingertips—and she had. Hundreds, if not thousands of times over the nineteen years she had lived in that dreadful tower.
Dreadful?Thom’s scoff rattled in her mind now.It’s a far cry from dreadful, if we’re comparing it to the Wilds.
Kestrel caught herself smirking and rolling her eyes at him, even though Thom wasn’t there to say any of it. In fact, he hadn’t been there for quite some time now.
Thom was late.Verylate. The kind of late that left Kestrel tormented with worry.
When Thom had left for one of his routine supply runs, he told her he would be back within a fortnight.
But a fortnight had come and gone. Then another.
For weeks now, Kestrel had been waiting for her father’s return, yet there had been no sign of him anywhere. And therewas no possible explanation for such a delay other than the obvious...
Something was terribly wrong.
Kestrel sensed it in her bones the way she could sense a storm coming just by the scent of the sea breeze wafting in through the window. Something was wrong but she didn’t know what to do other than to sit there and worry and hope that she was mistaken.
An overactive imagination,Thom would’ve chided. No doubt thanks to those books you consume like wildfire.
In his defense, he was right. Shedidhave an extraordinary imagination. Spending years in isolation and having nothing but one’s own company would do that to a person.
In her best moments, her diligent mind helped get her through the long and lonesome days when Thom was gone scouring the realm for supplies, food, and information about the curse. While he was away, Kestrel was enthralled by her daydreaming: pretending she was a battle-hardened warrior protecting all the lands, or falling in love with a charming prince or princess, or even simple things like strolling through a bustling town and chatting with people in the market—since those things were no longer possible.
In her worst moments, her thoughts wandered all-too frequently to any number of the vile creatures that had conquered the realm, and the brutal deaths they might be inflicting upon the only person she had ever known. Kestrel couldn’t stop imagining—in vivid detail—all the possible ways that the cursed beasts of the Wilds could’ve harmed Thom. Maybe he’d been caught in the plague of locusts and scorpions that would sometimes flood the desert in the dead of night. Or worse, perhaps he had encountered the cinders like she had, all those years ago, and they had clambered for him with their scorched handsuntil he’d had nowhere left to run, and no one around to save him.
Kestrel shuddered at the thought.
If Thom hadn’t been there that day, if he hadn’t slain that cinder and dragged her out of the oasis where she had been sinking like a pitiful stone, there would be no more Kestrel. Without him to save her, she would’ve died. But who was out there to save Thom?
Her rampant imaginings were getting harder to keep at bay the longer he was delayed, which was precisely why she had been staring longingly out her window at a dragon corpse—she needed a distraction. It was the only thing keeping her sane.
However, right at that moment the fog that typically clouded the nearby island resettled, and the dragon bones along with the distant shoreline disappeared behind it.
Kestrel sighed. At least the erratic sun was sticking around today. It had been up in the sky for a number of hours now, with little sign of retreating anytime soon. She always appreciated its longer visits; being stuck in a tower alone during the dark hours was unpleasant to say the least, but even more so when Thom was gone.
Even with the sun shining down upon her tower though, she was restless.
Kestrel tossed the orange length of her braid over her shoulder and sprang from the stone windowsill. She paced the small confines of their home.
