‘Who’s gods’ blessed,’ Arjuro snapped. ‘You or I?’
‘Oh, that is stooping low,’ Gargarin retorted. ‘Being able to read the words written by the gods themselves means nothing if you haven’t studied the different interpretations. If you hadn’t wasted most of your youth inhaling the reed of retribution and swiving De Lancey, you’d probably know a thing or two today.’
‘I’m quite intrigued by the reed of retribution,’ Froi murmured from his bedroll.
‘It made them both stupid,’ Lirah said. ‘They loved nothing more than stripping naked and reciting very bad poetry with an adoring De Lancey watching on.’
Arjuro and Gargarin exchanged stares of such incredulity that it almost had Froi laughing. Even Quintana lifted herself to see their reaction.
‘Artesimist? Bad poetry?’ Arjuro asked.
‘You’re a disgrace to Serker, Lirah,’ Gargarin muttered. ‘Artesimist was the greatest poet of all time.’
It was hours later that Froi sensed they were finished. It was in their hushed whispering and stolen glances at Quintana. Their expressions were slightly manic and strangely euphoric, despite the day’s harrowing journey.
Quintana watched them watch her and all three waited for another to speak.
‘What is it you want to know?’ she finally asked.
‘What you saw written?’
‘On the assassin?’ she asked.
Gargarin glanced over to Froi, a ghost of a smile on his face. Froi bit back his anger.
‘You’ve worked it all out?’ she asked.
Gargarin nodded. ‘Well, not just me, of course. Arjuro helped.’
‘Then why do you ask what I see written on the assassin’s back when Arjuro has witnessed the words himself?’
Gargarin was silent.
‘Ah,’ she said nodding, ‘You’re testing me. You want to hear it from me first, in case you think I’m influenced by your words.’
‘Perhaps we’re testing ourselves,’ Arjuro said. Even after a day or two, his eyes were bloodshot and swollen from having read the words of the gods in their purest form.
Quintana tilted her head, studying Arjuro’s face.
‘It doesn’t hurt so much to read if you go like this,’ she explained, squinting fiercely. Froi heard Arjuro chuckle.
‘Wish I had been told that long ago,’ he said.
This time it was Quintana who was silent.
‘What did you see written, Princess?’ Gargarin asked again.
She looked up at Lirah who nodded with encouragement.
‘The one who reigns must die,
At the hands of she born last,
And the last will make the first,
When the bastard twins are one,
And blessed be the newborn King,
For Charyn will be barren no more.’
Arjuro and Gargarin let out ragged breaths in unison. Gargarin placed his head in his hands.
‘I didn’t know you were bastard twins,’ Froi said, confused.
‘We’re not,’ Arjuro said. ‘You are.’
‘What?’ Froi was on his feet, staring at Quintana, horrified. ‘We’re twins?’
‘Calm yourself,’ Arjuro said condescendingly. ‘The Princess is the bastard child of the Oracle and the King. You’re the bastard child of these two. Born almost at the same moment in the same palace.’
Froi was still confused. ‘I don’t understand what it means by “when the bastard twins are one”.’
‘And if you don’t understand it, fool, I’m not explaining it to you,’ Arjuro said.
‘Joined,’ Gargarin explained instead. ‘Joined,’ he added, for emphasis.
‘Oh,’ Froi said, his face flaming again. ‘You mean when we …’
‘Swived,’ Quintana said. ‘I do remember the exact moment when we became one because I –’
‘No need for detail, Quintana,’ Lirah said. ‘Remember what I told you. If you talk of such things, you’ll only be judged by strangers.’
The atmosphere in the cave changed the moment Quintana did. Her stare towards Lirah was bitter. Froi could see the others were uncomfortable with this Quintana. They liked the indignant Princess and she knew it.
‘We’re judged by strangers now, Lirah,’ Quintana said coldly.
Arjuro moved closer to her. ‘May I?’ he asked. She nodded and he sat before her. ‘Do you know where she is?’ he asked quietly.
He was speaking of his beloved Oracle.
‘When I was a child I told Lirah that I knew a way to see my mother and for Lirah to see her beloved boy waiting for us in the lake of the half-dead. So I ordered Lirah to cut our wrists in the tub.’
‘Gods,’ Gargarin muttered. Lirah looked away, the memory so painful.
‘But Lirah saw nothing and came back half-mad, so they placed her in the tower.’
‘And you?’ Arjuro asked, hopeful. ‘You saw the Oracle?’
Quintana looked up at him and shook her head.
‘No. She never reached the other side. Sir Gargarin told us that he didn’t know her name, so how could she find her way?’
Her eyes stayed on Arjuro. ‘But we sensed a part of her across the gravina, blessed Arjuro.’
‘Is that why you wanted to throw yourself in?’ Arjuro asked. ‘So you could be with her?’
‘Throw ourselves in?’ she asked, astonished. ‘Why would you think such a thing? We wanted to enter the godshouse. We sensed our mother’s happiness there. Her scent. Her voice. It’s where she dreamt and those dreams still hovered in the air. We tried over and over again to speak to you about allowing us in, but you didn’t seem to hear us. Sometimes, we’d try to get as close as possible to the godshouse across the gravina, but we were afraid to leap.’
Arjuro looked down, shamed.
‘But when I visited the lake of the half-dead that time with Lirah, we did return with a spirit. I didn’t realise who that was until you told us the story of our day of weeping, Sir Gargarin.’
She didn’t speak and they all waited, desperate for more answers.
‘Princess?’ Gargarin prodded, gently.
Froi recognised it clearly. There was talk in her head. He recognised it in the way her face twitched and flinched. She mouthed words, but they heard nothing.
Lirah reached out a hand to touch Quintana’s mouth.
‘Don’t let this kingdom turn you into a voiceless fool, brave girl,’ she said. ‘Speak.’
Quintana’s eyes refused to meet any of theirs. Was it her madness that she was trying to conceal?
‘One of us returned,’ she whispered, ‘with the spirit of the sister who died.’
Froi saw his own confusion reflected on Gargarin and Lirah’s face. But not Arjuro’s.
‘Which of you is Quintana and which one is the sister?’ the Priestling asked.
She shook her head.
‘I don’t know any more,’ she said. ‘I don’t know who I am without her and she doesn’t know who she is without me. We don’t know who came first. All we know is that we share … we share …’ She leaned forward to whisper. ‘We share the one who may have cursed the kingdom. Lirah says they called us the little savage in the years before she drowned us and that everyone approved of who came back from the dead, because we were tamed.’
Arjuro was entranced with the story. ‘Go on,’ he said, with a reverence Froi had never imagined he would possess for anyone, let alone the daughter of a hated King.
Quintana thought for a moment. ‘We came back with the words I wrote on the chamber wall. That the last will make the first. And I waited all these years for the one to plant the seed and sire the cursebreaker and future king.’ Her eyes met Froi’s over Arjuro’s shoulder. ‘He arrived in the form of an assassin from an enemy kingdom. When I woke up that next morning after he had planted the seed, I knew that the King had to die.’
Let her be a madwoman, Froi prayed. Let her be mad.
‘Do you honestly think that I would bring a child into that palace after everything my father allowed to happen to me?’