I laughed for the first time in days. “It’s not. Wait until you see the interior. Hope you’re up for a good hike.”
The entire island is a protective cage around the welcoming interior, the rock rising like menacing ribs from the sea to protect Auralia’s vulnerable heart.
“Zosia?” Scarlett asked hesitantly. “Where’s Lorcan?”
I swallowed past the lump in my throat. “Gone.”
She was quiet. “Shit.”
“We both went through a lot. We’re in different places, now.” Mustering my atrophied diplomacy skills was like trying to remember how to walk. Nobody knows how to talk circles around the truth better than a trained princess, though.
Except...I’m sick of deflecting. I’m tired of never being myself.
“I’ll tell you the whole story when we get home,” I promised.
Scarlett was enthralled by every single rock, tree, shrub and person she met during our journey. The stone and metal alloy doors to the domain of the Mountain Folk inspired comparisons to The Lord of the Rings, which made me laugh.
“This place is going to scare the shit out of those rich arseholes who bought themselves a pleasure trip to Auralia,” she chortled as we walked along the underground passageway alongside the mining trolleys filled with boxes of our old life.
“It will certainly be an unforgettable experience.”
“Have you thought about inviting a reporter along? Maybe National Geographic would send a photographer?”
It’s a good suggestion. One of many details that slipped by me in the avalanche of everyday work. I need an assistant. Palla isn’t old enough. Tahra is busy keeping the new guard on track now that Lorcan has flounced off to Goddess knows where. (Masika, most likely.) After Norah, I’ve been wary of being assigned a new chambermaid, much less one who would have access to the details of our Treasury, the condescending indifference and rejection from international aid agencies, or my own personal struggles. I let maids come in once a day to clean, but apart from that, it’s just Palla and me.
I urgently need a proper Treasurer and castle manager. Rya would be ideal, but having broken with her son for good, I can’t see her accepting my hastily made offer to come and work with me from last summer. Still. I should call her. Try to find out if she’s seen Lorcan. Part of me dreads to ask, but not knowing isn’t any easier. Did he go back to Tenáho and marry Masika, or not?
No longer my concern, but I’m preoccupied with the question anyway.
It was late when we arrived back at the castle. Scarlett was knackered, so I let her settle into the prepared guest quarters while porters brought our boxes from school into my parents’ royal apartments for safekeeping. Apart from airing them out, my father’s rooms are untouched. Located at the back of the castle for maximum privacy and security, not far from the adapted nursery I’m living in, they were relatively undamaged from the year of Sentinel blasts. I simply haven’t had the heart, or the time, to confront what I might find in there.
The next day, Scarlett toured the castle with me in the morning. In the afternoon, we went into The Walled City to inspect the new piping system. New buildings were rising rapidly on the worker’s chosen plots. Several enterprising souls had decided to build inns with taverns to house the workers and their families. It was starting to look like a proper town again.
Ifran showed Scarlett how, in the absence of having any stonecutters to work the quarry, he had repurposed the broken rocks from the destroyed buildings to rebuild the exterior wall, the foundations of new houses and shops, and pave the main streets. I translated.
“Here, we are building a new bridge to replace the previous, retractable one.”
My heart pinched, remembering our disagreement. One Norah easily exploited, because Lorcan and I were trying to build on such shaky foundations. She sensed my lack of confidence before I even made it over the threshold of our living quarters, and ruthlessly went after what she wanted in a way that only I would see. Had I listened to Raina, Lorcan might still be here with me, but we would still be trying to shore up a relationship built on sand.
Scarlett pretended fascination with the design of the new bridge, currently being constructed with a scaffold over the once-raging moat. With the hydroelectric system functioning again, the churning turbines siphoned off enough of the waterfall and river’s energy to return it to a gentle roar.
He’d even found a way to lift the dragon statues out of the moat. They will grace the entrance to my castle for another few centuries, at least.
The past, made new. Not forgotten, never the same again, but in some ways, better. Like me.
Like him.
But not us. Some things broken in the war can’t be mended or remade.
Scarlett and I shared our midday meal on the broken balcony outside my rooms, with Palla and her ever-present knife.
“Is everyone here this fierce?” Scarlett asked, eyeing the grave-faced little girl who stared at her across a table laden with baked fish, wild rice, and greens. The threat in Palla’s eyes was unmistakable in any language: hurt the princess, and I’ll slit your throat.
“The survivors are.” I patted the girl’s hand reassuringly. She scowled. “If you look up on the broken tower there, you’ll see her foster brother, Bennet, hanging around the guards.”
Scarlett craned her neck. “He looks so young.”
“Fourteen. Desperate to join the guard as soon as he’s old enough.” I smiled. “Education, first.”
