Melina Marchetta - Quintana of Charyn

‘I am indeed.’

‘And how is she?’ Florenza asked solemnly. ‘I dream of them both. All the time, I do. Is she happy?’

Phaedra didn’t know how to answer that truthfully.

‘The little King is the most beautiful creature I’ve ever seen in my life,’ she said. ‘Is that not true, Grij?’

Grij was staring at Florenza, who was now staring at Grij with a hand held to her face to hide her nose, which had survived its ordeal in the caves with quite a large bump.

‘Yes … yes, of course,’ he said, flustered, clearing his throat.

‘Father said you have something,’ Florenza said, and Phaedra watched as Jorja’s hand brushed a leaf from Florenza’s hair surreptitiously. Cora exchanged a look with Phaedra.

Grijio removed a letter from his pack and handed it to Florenza.

‘She requested that you read it aloud before me,’ he said. ‘So then she’d be sure that it was read.’

‘Why?’ Cora asked bluntly.

‘Hurry up and read it, Florenza,’ Jorja said.

Florenza broke the seal of the letter.

‘Dear Florenza,

‘I hope all is fine with you. Phaedra will tell you more about life here. The weather is quite unspectacular and so are most of those who live in the palace …’

‘They are,’ Phaedra agreed.

‘ Of course, I’m yet to meet a girl such as you, Florenza, who crawled through the sewers of Nebia to save the life of those Serkers and whose nose was broken as she fearlessly fought a man who was a threat to myself and the future King of Charyn … ’

Florenza touched her nose again, self-consciously.

‘You crawled through the sewers?’ Grij asked in awe. ‘To save the Serkers?’

‘And broke her nose as she fearlessly fought a man who was a threat to Quintana and the future King of Charyn,’ Jorja reminded him.

Florenza removed her hand from her nose and continued reading.

‘ Anyway, enough of all that. I was wondering if you’d like to come and visit some time. You can give your response to Grijio, the brilliant scholarly son of the Provincaro of Paladozza and one of the heroic masterminds of my rescue in the Citavita. ’

Phaedra burst out a laugh and stared at Cora. This time it was Florenza who looked up in awe.

‘You were the mastermind?’ Florenza asked Grijio.

He waved a hand in embarrassment. ‘One of them, anyway,’ he murmured.

‘Our little savage has turned matchmaker,’ Cora muttered. ‘What have they done to her?’

Lucian finished helping Orly with the fence post and they both stood back to assess the work. Lotte joined them soon after and handed Lucian a hot brew. There wasn’t much talk between them, although he could sense that Lotte was dying to say something and Lucian knew exactly what that was.

‘Lady Zarah,’ Lotte said politely. ‘She seems a fine girl.’

‘Yes, indeed,’ Lucian said curtly. He was sick and tired of being asked at every turn if it was true that he was betrothed. No, he wanted to shout. Fabrications from an overzealous lord who wants a cut in our fleece market!

But he held his tongue.

‘Some are saying she’ll be your new wife, Lucian.’

Orly muttered something rude and Lucian had to agree.

Lotte peered beyond him towards the path that ran through the mountain.

‘Is that one of your aunts?’ she asked, somewhat alarmed. ‘Is she running? Sweet Goddess, Lucian. Something’s happened.’

Lucian leapt over Orly’s post to reach his aunt.

‘Lucian, Lucian,’ she called out, her face lit with excitement. ‘Phaedra’s returned to the valley!’

His mouth was suddenly dry. His heart was pounding too fast, his face felt aflame. Lotte and Orly caught up with them, Lotte trilling with excitement. He had to get away from them all to think clearly. He had to work out what to do and how not to ruin things. But he couldn’t do it here, and it was clear to Lucian that there’d be no more work done with Lotte and Orly, so he gently steered his aunt back home.

‘Too much work to be done around here to be wasting time,’ he said to her calmly. They passed Jory and the lads, who were rounding up the sheep on Yael’s spread.

‘See,’ he said, pointing. ‘The lads have got the right idea. Work and no talk.’

‘Lucian,’ Jory hollered, jumping from his mount and running towards them. ‘Phaedra’s back.’

‘Be quick! You’ll lose her again!’ another cousin shouted.

In the Mont market square, Lucian was surrounded instantly. By everyone. He hadn’t seen such a gathering since Isaboe had returned for the first time since the death of her child. The mountain had celebrated that day. Finnikin had begged Lucian, ‘Tell them that their sorrow will break her. She’s come for their joy.’ And the Monts had tried.

Today, he saw a truer version of that joy.

‘I’m going down to Lumatere,’ he muttered and there was a collective sigh of annoyance.

‘Lucian, don’t be ridiculous,’ his cousin Alda snapped. ‘If you’re going to betroth yourself to that useless Tascan’s daughter, you’ll be insulting the women of this mountain and the memory of your poor mother.’

‘Don’t know what was wrong with the first wife,’ Pitts the cobbler said.

‘Yes, yes,’ most agreed.

‘I always said that if Phaedra of Alonso’s people weren’t cursed, those hips of hers were made for child-bearing,’ Ettore the blacksmith piped up.

Lucian caught his yata ’s eye and he could see she was seething about something. She turned to them all, fire blazing in her eyes.

‘When Lady Zarah visited last, the little miss turned up her nose at the food on our table! I jest you not!’ she said.

There were gasps of outrage all around.

‘A good riddance to her now that Phaedra’s back!’

There was a cheer at Yata ’s words.

Goddess forbid, Lucian had to get off this mountain.

Most things had changed.

At the bridge leading to the Citavita was a guard station. No one was permitted to cross without dismounting. A garrison was camped on a piece of land by the road, swarming with soldiers asking questions and allowing entry onto the bridge, one person at a time.

‘What’s your business?’ Froi was asked. He recognised no one among the guards.

‘I’m from Lumatere,’ he replied. Lies only created problems. Even so, the man looked at him suspiciously. He indicated for Froi to raise his arms.

‘Shoulder, ankle and here,’ Froi said, patting the sword in its scabbard at his side. ‘All weapons revealed. Is there a rule about being armed?’

‘No, but there’s a rule about having a smart mouth.’

And some things stayed the same.

Unlike every other person before and after him, Froi found himself escorted across the bridge. Beast was just as disgusted. Halfway across, Froi stopped, daring to look down the gravina and then ahead through the mist at the splendour of the Citavita’s stone piled high.

How could he have imagined that Gargarin’s sigh that first time they arrived here was of anything but pleasure?

He continued walking, his heart thumping with anticipation. Home, it sang. You’re home. But he argued back with that part of his heart that couldn’t let go of the Flatlands. Until he stepped onto the Citavita. Home, his heart sang.

He steered Beast off the bridge and looked around. There were no street lords demanding a coin for use of the bridge. There was no wretched line of Citavitans desperate to leave the carnage behind. Instead, a marketplace was set up at the base of the rock and there was haggling and shouting. And laughter. Froi had never heard laughter in the Citavita.

He saw the sentinels instantly, guarding the roof of the Crow’s Inn. He imagined Scarpo’s men would be swarming the capital now that most of its people were returning to their homes. As he was led towards the walls of the city, a dozen or so soldiers came striding towards him.