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  “Come on.” Catena pulled him to his feet. “We should get going.”

  He rose obediently, rolled up his blanket and put it in his bag, and hefted it over his shoulder. He carried his own bags now, made his own bed. She had explained to him that they could not return to Harlton – not that he had any desire to – and that her plan was for them to disappear. No longer was he a prince and she a captain of the guard. They were just two travellers with a dog, and he was now her nephew, she had said. Her plan was to head south, deep into the bush, to skirt the base of the Spina Mountains and then head west into Komis. He clearly had Komis blood in him, and she hoped they would find a quiet hamlet or town where they could find work and settle down. If they didn’t like it there, she had said, they would go north to Hanaire.

  These were all just names to Tahir and he knew they would have to travel long distances to reach them. He tried not to think about it, or about Demitto and how the emissary had said I will not let them take you. He could defend himself, he thought stubbornly, lifting his chin. Catena had given him her dagger, and she had been showing him simple moves with it should the need arise. Not that it would, she had insisted. They were nameless now, of interest to nobody but themselves. The other dangers they had to worry about were bandits and thieves.

  Still, as they walked he noticed she looked over her shoulder repeatedly, scanning the forest, and her face remained grim, free of the smiles he knew hid beneath the surface.

  “Is something concerning you?” he asked eventually when she looked over her shoulder for the fifth time.

  She glanced at him, her green eyes dark as the river they had just crossed. “I think we are being followed.”

  His eyebrows rose. “Demitto?” A flash of pleasure lit him up, along with relief. He hadn’t realised until then how safe he had felt with the emissary.

  But Catena shook her head, her brow furrowing. “I do not think it is he. And I think there is more than one. Come, we must pick up our speed.”

  Atavus padding at their side, they crashed through the undergrowth, almost running now, as much as the dense bush would allow them anyway. Fear lodged in Tahir’s stomach, and his heart pounded from it as much as from the exertion of moving so fast. He was not used to hard physical exercise, and the long horse rides and walks had left him stiff. His muscles ached and he had a stitch in his side. But he didn’t protest, aware from Catena’s pale face that they were in danger.

  It seemed like they walked forever. They must have lost the people following them, he thought, his feet moving forward one after the other in a rhythm he felt he could not have broken even if his life depended on it. Left, right, left, right, left, right. The bag across his shoulders dug into his skin, but Catena continued to walk, and he didn’t want to complain.

  Left, right, left, right, left, right. The motion lulled him, made his eyelids begin to droop. He could not be tired, he thought, he had only awoken an hour or so before! But his head felt heavy, his muscles loose and relaxed. The ferns and broken palm leaves beneath his feet would make a soft bed, he thought. He imagined lying there, sinking into the ground, becoming one with the earth. The ferns could creep over him, the tree roots drag him down. He would become a part of Anguis forever, melt into the mulch, stretch out his arms and legs from coast to coast. Nobody would ever find him.

  His hands grew warm. Catena was right, he thought, the climate was changing. Sweat ran down his back, soaked his tunic again. His body burned.

  Catena stopped, so abruptly that Tahir bumped into her, shaking him out of his trance. She put out her arm and pushed him behind her. He peered around and whispered, “What is it?”

  Ahead of them the bush was moving. At first he wondered if it were an animal – there were plenty in the jungle, although they tended to keep to themselves and were not people-friendly. But then the ferns parted, and he saw it was a man.

  Atavus bared his teeth, crouched and snarled.

  A rustle sounded from behind them, and he turned quickly to see two further figures emerging, one man, one woman. All three wore nondescript clothes – plain woollen breeches, brown tunics, much patched; their hair was unkempt and their faces dirty. Brigands then, he thought, who live at the edge of the forest and prey on unwary travellers like themselves.

  And then, as the brigands neared, he noticed the eyes of the man in front. They were orange and red, dancing with tiny flames.

  “Incendi,” Tahir breathed into Catena’s ear. Elemental spirits that had somehow taken over these penniless brigands. Panic filled him, and he remembered the way his body had grown hot. He had fallen into a trance again, he thought. Demitto had said before, They knew immediately where he was. They had used the energy channels to find him, and he had let them.

  Catena drew her sword, and he drew his blade, trying not to notice how his hand shook.

  “You will not take him,” she announced firmly, and he saw with pride how fierce she looked, how determined.

  The man in front of him just smiled, however, and drew his own blade. Keeping Tahir behind her, she turned and backed away until she had all three of them in her sight.

  “When I start fighting, you run!” she whispered furiously to the Prince.

  He said nothing, frightened, confused. He didn’t want to leave her. Where would he go if he was completely alone? He knew nothing about the world – he had no money, no idea of anything he could do to earn it. He could not defend himself, could not even find his way out of the jungle. What was the point in running?

  The first man lunged, and Catena parried his blade easily. The second did the same, and she parried that too. The two of them alternated thrusts, testing her, toying with her, occasionally swinging at Atavus, who remained just out of blade range, waiting for an opportunity to leap. They were not skilled with the blade – even Tahir could see that – but they had Incendi inside them, and their eyes blazed with power, making him shiver in his shoes.

  The woman had stood to one side, watching them, but as he glanced over, Tahir saw suddenly why she had removed herself – she carried a bow and was about to release the arrow. It whistled through the air and, shocked, he had no time to warn Catena; all he could do was knock her arm, and the arrow whizzed by her ear and embedded itself in a nearby tree.

  The woman bellowed and reached behind her for another arrow, and Catena doubled her efforts against the men. She landed a blow on one of them, numbing his elbow and forcing him to drop his sword, and she took advantage of his weakness and thrust the blade down into his neck. Tahir watched, horrified, as blood bubbled in the man’s mouth and he dropped to his knees. Catena pulled out the sword and readied herself immediately for the next man’s attack, but Tahir could not tear his eyes from those of the dying man. A hideous burbling screech sounded from the man’s lips, and then – shocking Tahir – a spurt of flame. It hit Tahir full in the chest, running down his body like water, and immediately his clothes caught light.

  He squealed and dropped to the ground, rolling, only half-conscious of Catena still battling it out with the other man while Atavus sank his teeth into the man’s arm. Tahir only half heard the whistle of another arrow, and this time, the dull smack like a side of beef hitting a table as the arrow met flesh. He rolled, aware that his sweat-soaked tunic was probably the only thing that had saved his life from being burned to a crisp, smothering the flames beneath him, and then raised his head as someone fell beside him.

  “Catena!” Fear fired through him fast as the arrow that had rooted itself in her chest. He crawled toward her, but before he could reach her, the man had covered the distance between them and threw a bag over his head, shutting out the light.

  He screamed, kicked, but burly arms clamped his arms to his sides and lifted him over a shoulder. Atavus barked and the man holding Tahir jerked as the dog launched at him, but a high pitched squeal filled the air, and Tahir knew the man must have hurt the dog. He cried out in anguish. And then the world went black.

  III

  Geve
waited in the shadow of a doorway until Sarra was level with him, then reached out and yanked her in with him, placing a hand over her mouth.

  Sarra fought him, but Geve whispered in her ear, “It is me,” and when she turned her head and saw who it was, she ceased to struggle. “Keep quiet,” he said. “You’re being followed.”

  He removed his hand from her mouth, grabbed her arm and led her along the narrow passageway. They were on their way to meet the Veris in the Secundus Quarter, and Geve now knew he was being followed and was therefore sure that the Chief Select would definitely be having her followed too, whatever his reasons for his interest in her.

  He led her out of the passageway and across the river. Lanterns here were few and far between and they stumbled often, but he knew it also meant the person trailing them would have more difficulty finding them. They threaded through darkened alleyways and dim rooms, doubling back and changing direction until he was sure they had lost their tail. Only then did he take her to the new meeting place, at the opposite end of the caverns to the previous time.

  Sarra hadn’t said a word the whole time they were walking, and Geve had kept silent too. Turstan had come to find him the previous evening and had related that Comminor had called Sarra to his chamber. All night, Geve’s imagination had tortured him with what might be happening to her. Obviously the Chief Select had been unable – or unwilling – to wait for her any longer. What had he done when he found out she was pregnant? Was she lying dead right at that moment, or strapped down in the apothecary’s chair as he cut the baby from her? He had feared the worst and had hovered around the quay all night, waiting to see if they brought out a sack-covered body to send to the Burning Caves. But the next morning, she had walked out, crossed the quay and returned to the Primus District, and although she was still not big enough for the baby to be obvious beneath her loose tunic, Geve’s careful eyes had seen that the slight bump was still present.

  That could only mean one thing, surely.

  Geve’s hands had curled into fists and nausea had risen in his throat. He hadn’t followed her back to Primus but instead had remained on the quay, trying to deal with his jealousy and confusion about what this meant for the Veris.

  Now, he felt a little calmer, but he couldn’t be sure he would stay that way once she began to tell her tale. He glanced across at her as they walked. Her head was down, her face pale. She looked tired and dispirited, and he longed to reach out and take her in his arms, stroke her hair, kiss her fears away. But he kept his distance. There was more at stake here than his love for her.

  They arrived at the designated room, and Geve pulled back the curtain to let her enter. He followed her in. The other five were there, seated around a lantern, and Sarra walked over, took a place between Kytte and Amabil and sat quietly with her hands in her lap.

  Geve sat next to Nele and they exchanged a glance.

  “She was followed,” Geve confirmed. “We lost them before the river.”

  Nele nodded. “We are all being watched. Comminor knows about the Veris, and clearly he knows we are all members.”

  “But why have we not been arrested?” Amabil wanted to know. She glanced at Sarra, her thin face worried and sullen. “Everything was fine until Sarra came into the group.”

  “And we will not start blaming anyone for the way things have gone,” Nele scolded. “Without Sarra we would have no hope of an escape, no way to make our dreams real. We have to trust each other. Comminor clearly knows about the Veris and about us, but obviously he is waiting to make his move.”

  “Maybe he knows we meet, but he does not know why,” Kytte said.

  “He knows,” said Sarra.

  They all looked at her.

  She licked her lips. “I think he knows because… I am certain he is a bard.”

  Nele’s eyes widened. The others gasped. Geve’s heart seemed to stop.

  “What makes you think that?” Nele asked carefully.

  “He… talked in his sleep.” Sarra lowered her eyes and stared at the lantern.

  Geve had meant to keep calm, to keep his emotions in check, but jealousy and anger bubbled out before he could stop them. “How could you?” he said, forcing the words out through clenched teeth.

  Nele put a hand on his arm. “What happened when he found out about the baby?” he asked her.

  “He said he would look after the babe as if it were his own,” Sarra said.

  They all stared.

  “Truly?” Betune, her hand rising instinctively to the pouch around her neck that contained the acorn, spoke in a whisper of something like awe.

  “So he said.” Sarra spoke calmly. She looked briefly at Geve, met his angry gaze and lifted her chin. She was refusing to feel guilty about what she’d done, he thought, and something twisted inside him.

  “He wants you to be his mate?” Nele asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Do you believe him?”

  She hesitated. “I do not know. He seemed sincere. He genuinely seemed to care for me. But can I be sure that he is not using me to get to the Veris? No, I cannot.”

  “Of course he is using you!” Geve could no longer hold in his anger, and he shook off Nele’s hand. “How could you lay with him? You have heard the stories about his cruelty. He is harsh and heartless. It makes me sick to think of you with him.”

  “I had no choice,” she snapped. “What do you think he would have done with me if I had refused him? Why would I refuse him?”

  His hurt must have shown in his face, because she corrected herself, “I mean, why would a woman in my position refuse him? Nobody in their right minds would, and he knew that. He promised me a life of security, where I would be warm, well-fed, respected and loved. Whether that is true or not, it is not something any other woman would turn down. To do so would have aroused suspicion.”

  Geve opened his mouth to tell her she was fooling herself. Comminor could have the pick of all the women in The Embers. Rich ones, beautiful ones, clever ones. He could bring them all running with a snap of his fingers. Why would he choose Sarra – a penniless daughter of a leather merchant, skinny and carrying another man’s child?

  And yet as he sat there and saw her eyes blaze, her defiant and courageous spirit rising up to meet his, the words faded on his lips and he found himself speechless. Something shone within her, radiating forth like the sun he had once hoped to see, and although he could not put it into words, he knew Comminor had seen it also, and had ­wanted it for himself. Could he really blame the man for that?

  Nele cleared his throat. “You said he talked in his sleep?”

  She tore her eyes away from Geve’s. “Yes. He spoke of birds in the sky, and clouds and the White Eye being the moon. And he said the word ‘Arbor’.”

  Kytte raised a hand to cover her mouth. The others looked distressed.

  “How do we know he had not heard these words from someone else?” Turstan said.

  “Have you seen his private chamber?” Sarra asked him. When he shook his head, she continued, “It has stars on the ceiling. And a tapestry on the wall representing grass and the sky and the sea, and animals on the Surface. I cannot be sure – maybe you are right and he knows of these things through someone else, but I think he commissioned that tapestry because of his dreams. I think he has heard of the Veris and he is curious because he did not realise there were others like him.”

  Nele raised his eyebrows. “So what are you saying? That he wants to meet us to compare notes?”

  She blushed. “No, of course not. I think he likes his position here, and the thought of someone leading everyone else to freedom would mean the end of his control. I do not think he is quite the ogre that the rumours say, but equally I think he has no qualms about quashing those who stand in his way.”

  Nele gave her a firm look. “You must tell us now, Sarra, what your plans are. We do not know what lies outside the Embers or how dangerous our journey would be, especially for someone in your condition. If you stay here, perha
ps Comminor tells the truth and he will look after you and keep you healthy and well. I would not blame you if you could not turn your back on that. But we need to know. Because if you plan to do so, we must call an end to the Veris now, before we are found.”

  Geve watched her. She looked down at her hands, studied them in the light from the lantern. He sensed that maybe she had been asking herself the same question, maybe ever since Comminor had first shown interest in her. His heart ached. Why had he not been born a Select, privileged and able to offer her a better life? Why would she choose him, and an uncertain life for her child, over security and safety?

  She lifted her head. He could almost hear everyone holding their breath.

  “I cannot say I am not tempted,” she said. “He was kind to me, and I find it difficult to believe everything he said was a lie and the affection he showed me was just a ruse to earn my trust before he made me tell him about the Veris. But… I cannot be sure.” She hesitated. “There is no doubt that many women have had their pregnancies terminated, and that has been at his command. He explained to me last night how he has to control the population because of our limited resources. But he said so coldly, with no sign of emotion behind it. Part of me fears that he is able to be cruel one minute, tender the next. That scares me more than the animal they have made him out to be.”

  She rested her hand on her belly. “The dreams are getting stronger, more vivid, as the baby grows. I can feel the wind on my face, the rain, see the clouds in the sky. I can feel myself standing beneath the Arbor, and I look up and see its leaves shaking in the breeze.” Her eyes took on a faraway look. “The sun streams through them and scatters golden fragments across my arms and face. And… I know this sounds strange, but I can feel its love.”

  Relief showed in her face as the others nodded, Geve included. He, too, had dreamed of the Arbor and felt enveloped in the warmth of its love.

  “The Arbor wants us, needs us,” she said. “We must get to the Surface.” Her eyes blazed. “This urge within me to take my child there overwhelms every other feeling I have. It overpowers me, makes me shake with its intensity. I have to go. It is as simple as that. It does not matter if Comminor promises me all the gold and food in the Embers, none of it could replace the feel of the sun on my face as it has been in my dreams.”