Page 96 of The Ember and the Emerald

We stood just beyond a frost-trimmed orchard where a soft wind carried away the last of the glitter. Built from pale limestone and rich mahogany beams, the stable was vast, with a high, arching cathedral roof. Sunlight filtered through iron-latticed windows, catching on drifting dust motes and the slow rise of warm breath in the chill morning air. Ponies of varying colors grazed in a lush pasture fenced by gold. Palace grounds.

Jasher twined his fingers with mine and steered me to the entrance. I breathed deeply, taking in fresh hay, clean leather, oiled wood, and the musky sweetness of the animals themselves. Their coats exuded the soft smell of wild herbs and crushed clover, a perfume that clung to the straw-strewn floor and lingered in the rafters.

Two pegacorns—one flecked with red, pink, and purple, the other a shimmering azure—stood with quiet dignity, their powerful feathered wings folded neatly against their flanks. Their hooves gleamed as if coated with silver. Their tails swished. Eyes the color of stormy skies and dark river stone watched us with calm intelligence.

“Halt,” a voice called as we exited. Captain Rourke, our former guide.

My gaze shot upward. An entire contingent of armed guards lined the parapet above us, positioned over the palace entrance. Each one of them—over a hundred, at least—trained an arrow on us.

Not knowing what else to say, I called back, “It is I. Oracle Rye.”

“The Great and Terrible,” he whispered, horrified.

Jasher snorted. “Now we know how you earned your title. Terrifying a captain in Ahav’s army when he mistreated your favorite monstra.”

Not gonna smile, though I was suddenly kinda sorta proud of myself.

“Where’s the king?” Rourke demanded.

So we’d beaten Ahav to the finish line. “He should arrive soon. Any hour.” I wouldn’t panic. Not yet. “He asked us to meet him here.”

“Not good enough,” Rourke fired back. “Unless you have the key, you will not enter these gates.”

But I had no key. Ahav hadn’t offered one when he’d sent us here. He’d only said—I jerked straighter. “The way is marked in gold.” The king’s words. Please, be the key.

Bingo! The gate opened and guards rushed out, surrounding us.

“We’re here to see the queen.” The fastest path to the Ring of Truth. Without her permission, we’d have to wage war to get to the catacombs.

The circle of men parted, allowing Rourke to stride through. He was winded and sweating, clear signs he’d rushed down the parapet. He darted a quick, suspicious glance at Jasher. “Until the king says otherwise, the monstra cannot be in the same room as the queen.”

“I understand,” I said, and meant it.

“This way.” Rourke and his men maintained their positions around us as they led us inside. We were so totally surrounded, I couldn’t see past the sea of bodies. Not more than the occasional gilt-framed portraits hanging on the walls.

“I’ll go in with you,” Rourke said when we stopped before a closed door. He looked anywhere but at me. “My men will stay with your monstra.”

Jasher bent his head and pressed a soft kiss against my lips. Staking a claim? Making a statement? “I’ll be fine, princess.”

“See that you are.” Head high, I did my best to recreate my “terrifying” expression and scanned the others. Water droplets beaded on my skin, as if a dam to a river threatened to break at any moment. “If any harm comes to him, you will learn what it means to drown a thousand times before death.”

The men paled and stepped back.

“Now my threat to disembowel them just sounds silly,” Jasher mock-huffed. He waved me on. “Go on. Get it done.”

I blew him a kiss with my eyes before donning my all business expression, then nodded to the commander’s man, who opened the door. Rourke sailed in first, and I trailed on his heels. The others remained in the hallway with Jasher. The door closed behind us.

We stood in a spacious chamber with only Queen Sandrine—Andrea, the first water maiden—and the ten elite guards she always traveled with. She wore an apron and painted a mural on a wealth of flat stones.

What a tragic life she’d lived; I wanted only to hold her and never let go. After centuries spent dreaming of her husband’s death, she’d awoken to find his bones draped over her body. Crazed, she’d erased her memory and given up her power to save us all.

She burns, she wins.

Trembling, I took in the scene she created. The second I registered what she was painting, however, I fluttered my fingertips to my parted lips. I’d seen this before. The final battle between King Ahav and the monstra. An event that had yet to happen in this timeline.

Had she begun to remember the past, the veil between it and the future thinning?

“Y-your majesty,” I said.