Page 83 of A Kiss of Flame

She let out a long, shaking breath. ‘I have to. And Hestia is right. We need to find out how Sassone got the steel and why he thought he would get away with it.’

‘Then we go back to the palace,’ Finn sighed, his expression troubled. ‘And hope for the best.’

‘That is all we can ever hope for.’ She glanced at Anselm and Olivier, lingering behind them, on constant guard among the Ilanthians. She didn’t blame them. All of them were lucky to still be alive. ‘The sooner we leave the better.’

The thundering clatter of horses’ hooves on the cobbles beyond the gate made them all look up to face a new threat. The Knights of the Aurum had arrived, with Roland at their head. The gates were already open so there was nothing the Ilanthians could do to stop them. And it would have ended in blood if they had tried. Gaius and the main force had already gone, leaving Leander and Hestia with a small, largely ceremonial group who wouldn’t have stopped Roland.

Especially not with Roland enraged like this. Even Wren could see it.

He pulled his horse to a halt and glowered down at them all.

Without a word spoken, Finn, Anselm and Olivier dropped to their knees, offering up their swords in silence, heads bowed. Hestia and her guards still surrounded Leander as they emerged from the main building and she didn’t look in the slightest bit cowed by Roland’s presence. But she didn’t say anything either.

Which meant it was left to Wren.

‘They helped me. They rescued me and gave me sanctuary.’

Roland stared at her for a long moment, studying her. His face unreadable. Wren didn’t like what she saw there, even if she didn’t quite know what it was.

Nothing good.

‘Very well,’ he said at last, his voice surprisingly calm. ‘Take them all into custody. We can sort this out back at the palace. The Aurum can decide.’

‘You can’t do this,’ Hestia protested. ‘I’m an ambassador, a diplomat. We were helping her. And you certainly can’t take him prisoner. He’s a prince of Ilanthus.’

She didn’t specify which of the two princes she meant. What would Roland do if he learned of Hestia’s offer to Finn? Wren glanced at Anselm and Olivier but they said nothing, for which she was profoundly grateful.

Roland turned his glowering attention to Hestia. The knights behind him bristled, reading his mood and ready to attack. The remaining Ilanthian guards shifted uneasily. They were vastly outnumbered. They were not hardened soldiers but clearly little more than a ceremonial military division. These men had not signed up for any of this. But they were sworn to the crown, and to defend their ambassador. If it came down to it, they would try. And they would fail.

Finn saw it too. ‘Stand down,’ he told them in an unwavering voice.

Roland didn’t spare them so much as a glance, nor offer Finn any comment regarding the order. All his attention was fixed on the ambassador now.

‘Save your lies, Lady Hestia. The Aurum will demand the truth or burn it from you. I will know how the princess came to be here, and I will know how shadow-wrought steel was used on the person of my queen. You will find I always get answers.’

Wren felt all the blood sliding away from her head, leaving her dizzy and scared. She didn’t know this man. Roland had always been terrifying but Roland enraged… Had something else happened to Elodie? He had saved her, hadn’t he? He had saved her and carried her to safety like something from one of the old songs but maybe… maybe…

Elodie had to be all right.

‘Wren, come here,’ he snapped and held out his hand. She didn’t dare disobey this time. He pulled her up onto the horse behind him, away from Finn and the others.

‘What happened?’ she asked urgently now she was up close and didn’t have to raise her voice.

‘Enough,’ Roland said and his tone silenced everyone. ‘The queen will decide all their fates. She is not best pleased.’

Hestia lifted her chin, defiant. ‘She is the queen again, then, your lady? Your witch-queen is recognised once more by the people who would have let her burn?’

Roland narrowed his eyes. ‘She was always our queen.’ He gestured to his men. ‘Bring them. All of them.’

ON BALANCE

BY PILAGIA OF SIDON

In the end the balance of light and dark is a simple thing. It hangs by a thread, or on the point of a needle. It can tip either way.

Everything lies in the eye of the beholder. To someone trapped in a lightless hole, a candle is the sun. To someone lost in a desert where the sun blinds them and burns them, the night is blessed relief.

This then is the balance. This is what the wise will seek.