The Storm Weaver

by Ivy Cliffwater

Genres: Sword & Sorcery

Synopsis

'I crave the Shadow Weaver, her darkness, her fire, her soul, but I am the storm that could destroy her.'

SHE CONTROLS THE SHADOWS.
PEOPLE FEAR HER POWER.
BUT HE CALLS THE LIGHTNING.
AND TOGETHER, THEY ARE THE PERFECT STORM...

Caris is no longer just the local sword maker: she's the late queen's daughter and one of the most powerful Weavers to have ever lived. She has discovered a shocking truth about Torgrin and is grieving the loss of her loved ones.

As Caris journeys far from Torgrin and attempts to discover more about her power, Torgrin is tortured by the distance between them, even though he knows being with Caris is impossible. In trying to do the best by his people, he is forced to make a decision that feels like a betrayal.

As the struggle for power in Eritz heightens and becomes increasingly volatile, ultimately Caris must ride back into danger to protect her people and fight for what she loves.

The epic sequel to The Shadow Weaver, filled with romantic tension, forbidden powers, and epic battles.

Reader Buzz for The Shadow Weaver:

"Exactly what I crave in a romantasy. I am dyyyying for the next book..."
"Instantly obsessed"
"The Shadow Weaver wove its way right into my heart"
"The world building in this is one of my favourites ... so beautiful"
"Absolutely recommend to any fantasy or romance lovers"
"Heartbreaking, hopeful, tense, funny and everything in between!"

Release date: May 26, 2026

Publisher: Hachette New Zealand

Print pages: 400

Sample

The clanging of my hammer echoed around the forge as sweat dripped from my hot face with a hiss onto the sword I was shaping. I looked up from my work when I heard a little voice call.

‘Mama!’

Cillian walked towards me with our daughter sitting on his shoulders. Putting down my hammer and removing my gloves, I grinned and fought back a laugh when I saw our precocious child holding a pineapple from the market between her chubby little hands, the spiky fruit resting on Cillian’s flaxen head.

‘Mama! Mama!’

I caught the pineapple before it hit the ground and smiled up at her gleeful face. Her eyes were the same warm brown as Cillian’s. She gripped her father’s hair as he bent his head to me. I touched his bristly cheek and met his warm lips with mine. I closed my eyes and found myself thinking of another man’s lips, fuller and more demanding than Cillian’s.

Cillian leaned back, and I opened my eyes to see his empty, burnt eye sockets.

‘What’s wrong?’ Cillian’s brows furrowed over the gaping holes in his head.

‘Yeah, Mama, what’s wrong?’ Our golden-haired daughter smiled down at me and then, like a log in a fire, she turned to coal-black ash and drifted away to join the embers resting in the fireplace.

I turned away from him and towards a familiar deep voice that called my name, igniting an ache inside my chest I was too cowardly to name.

I rushed to the forge entrance but found no-one – just dry, cracked earth and gathering storm clouds.

The disembodied voice called louder and more urgently. ‘Caris! Where are you?’

A shiver ran down my back, and the hairs on my arms bristled as I felt the static from the approaching storm. The air shimmered before me and a ball of light appeared, growing in size until a man’s glowing figure materialised. He reached out his broad, calloused hand – a soldier’s hand. I took it, knowing it belonged to Torgrin; the rest of him was still a bright light that hurt to look at. The moment our hands met, the forge, the earth and the sky erupted into flames, and ash rained down on us.

†

I sat bolt upright, gasping for air. The taste of ash burned the back of my throat, choking me like a fiery hand around my windpipe.

‘I’m sorry. I don’t know why that keeps happening.’ The young Dream Weaver withdrew her trembling hands from mine.

I touched the tent’s canvas walls to get my bearings. Sometimes, it was difficult to distinguish reality from illusion.

The ground swayed as I stood. ‘Same time tomorrow, Penn?’ My smile was forced, and my tone was flat, but she nodded her dark head before looking away from me. General Toro had ordered her to keep me happy, no matter the cost. I reached into the coin pouch tied to my waist and handed several coins to the Dream Weaver.

It was late, and the camp was silent. Our small group had been waiting at the edge of Danu Woods for who knows how long. General Honour Toro refused to explain why we had halted our journey to Ephemeros.

Three days and nights had passed since Torgrin revealed he was a Storm Weaver in a surge of emotion and lightning. After I left him, I scrutinised every word, glance and touch we had ever shared, piecing together how he had concealed his true self from me. The way he pushed me away when we met in Murus. How he zapped me during my first and last dance lesson. The complete lack of fear he had shown for the power I wielded, knowing he was just as dangerous. That brief moment in the tent when I was in his arms, willing to risk my heart again, and I had been convinced he was about to declare his feelings until the current ran through our joined hands. The redness had faded from my palm by now, but the pain of him leaving me then still lingered.

Tomas was a solitary figure sitting on a log beside a dying fire. He didn’t look up from the flames as I sat next to him. Without a word, he handed me his water bladder. I took a long drink, trying to dispel the taste of ash in my mouth.

‘Does it help?’ He nodded towards Penn’s tent.

‘No.’ I wiped my mouth on my sleeve and handed the water bladder back to him.

‘So why do it?’ he asked.

I gazed into the flames, recalling the little girl sitting on Cillian’s shoulders. A child who would never exist outside my dreams.

‘My memories of my father, Olaf, have faded,’ I squinted into the glowing embers while rubbing the smooth stone of the rabbit pendant he had carved for me. ‘I remember he was big like a bear and had light hair like yours, but I can’t quite recall what he looked like. I’m not ready to forget Cillian’s face, his voice. His smile.’

Penn tried to conjure a happy dream, but something inside me always twisted it into a nightmare. Then Torgrin would come, inevitably to the edge of my dreams, calling me to him.

‘Did you know Torgrin was a Storm Weaver?’ I asked Tomas. We hadn’t yet discussed what happened back at the camp. It was as if he knew I would ask when I was ready.

‘No,’ said Tomas, shaking his head. ‘I thought only women could be Cursed, and I’ve never heard of a Storm Weaver. Although I didn’t know what a Shadow Weaver was until that day I saw you turn barrels to ash in the middle of the street.’

So only Atlas and Torgrin’s family had known about him. But not me. He hadn’t trusted me with his secret. He had hidden it well for many months, until his control finally slipped, and I had seen him for what he really was.

Leaving Tomas by the dying fire, I made my way to my tent and buried myself under my borrowed furs. Morning came, and I was abruptly woken by a thunderous noise. I emerged from my tent to the sight of soldiers clad in gleaming armour, riding and marching with disciplined precision through the ancient woods of Danu. The clinking of iron and hooves pounding the ground in unison filled the camp as they approached, their banners fluttering in the early morning breeze.

‘You should put pants on,’ General Honour Toro said, standing beside me in the dewy grass. My face burning, I returned to my tent to find the discarded breeches in my bedroll, which I had left in a hurry.

‘When did you send for them?’ I asked, fully dressed and standing beside the general again. The rest of the camp was awake now and silently watching the invading Ephemeros soldiers. A young bearer walked past, holding a billowing crimson flag aloft. At its centre was a fearsome creature, its jaws wide open, breathing streams of coiled fire.

‘The moment we made our deal,’ he said.

‘You’re sending them to Capita.’ He was going to take advantage of the chaos we’d caused. King Hared’s lavish castle was partly in ruins, damaged by the Order of Men and their dragon fire. I, along with the Darkness, had weakened his mighty army.

‘Do you disapprove?’ General Toro studied my profile as I watched the disciplined Ephemeros army pass us by.

‘No,’ I replied. ‘It’s the perfect time, and I hope you take Capita from King Hared.’

‘Pedion is your home, and he is your king, yet you support our invasion?’

‘Do you know what he did to Queen Yaris, a woman he told me he loved?’ Queen Yaris, the woman I now know was my mother.

He shook his head.

‘He took her newborn babies out of her arms and ordered them to be murdered. He cut out her tongue when she used Mind Weaving on the knight tasked with the despicable act.’ Though I still stood facing the soldiers marching past, I didn’t see them; instead, I saw the woman who gave me life sitting frail and unwell in her own castle dungeon.

‘He gave her to a man who gouged out her eyes and left her to die in a cell, while all the while, above in the castle that belonged to her family, he danced and celebrated the engagement of his illegitimate son to her niece.’ With fire in my belly, I faced the general’s dark eyes, so similar to his son’s. ‘If I had stayed, I would have met the same fate as the queen and all Pedion women who can weave. They called us Cursed, but I say curse them for the crimes they commit against their wives, their mothers, their daughters.’ My voice shook with rage.

Cillian died trying to stop my real mother, Queen Yaris, from meeting the same terrible fate as his wife and unborn child. But it had been for nothing; they all ended up buried in the depths of Capita Castle. It would be all for nothing again if King Hared stayed on the Pedion throne.

Captain Toro’s mouth twitched slightly. ‘You’re not what I expected. I can see why my son was upset when you left.’

Upset? The lightning storm was unlike anything I’d ever seen before.

‘Has he lost control like that before?’ I asked.

‘Not for a long time, I suspect.’ General Toro avoided my gaze and cleared his throat before continuing. ‘Now you know what can happen if you suppress your power.’ He gestured to my eyes, the black irises that had once been grey. ‘You both must be the most powerful Weavers alive, yet neither of you has been trained to wield that power. It spills out of you uncontrollably.’ General Toro signalled to a captain, and the man halted his horse and started approaching us.

‘Is there someone in Ephemeros who can teach me how to control it?’

He nodded. ‘I can find someone to help you if that’s what you want.’

I nodded. ‘And there’s something else I want.’

‘Is there now?’ he asked, folding his arms and turning back to me.

I didn’t care if he thought I was being demanding. He made me trade my freedom for his help to save his son. ‘When your men take Capita, could you see that the dead in the castle’s dungeon are found and buried properly?’

I wanted Finn and the women left hanging in their cells to be laid to rest. My hand reached for the carved rabbit, and I pulled until the chain broke.

‘I would like this to be buried with the man with dark-blond hair.’ I had to be certain they found him. ‘He’s near the dungeon’s exit and …’ I desperately wished for Cillian to be reunited with his wife and child in the underworld. I didn’t want him to be alone. My words came out strained as I fought back tears. ‘He’s the one with his eyes removed.’

General Toro nodded silently and took my necklace. He headed off to meet the dark-haired captain who was nearly upon us. I turned away, blinking back tears.

It was done. Cillian would find peace – unlike those he left behind.

General Honour Toro finally ordered us to disassemble the camp and begin our month-long journey to Northcliff, the heart of Ephemeros and the home of my long-lost father and brother.

During the first week, I was excited to see snow for the first time, and I didn’t mind that Braya’s obsidian eyes, resembling those of the generals, sparkled with mirth as I tried to catch snowflakes in my hands. With each step Nightmare took, fine powder rose in little clouds and clung to my gloves, my lashes and Nightmare’s dark mane.

By the second and third week, the snow had hardened into a brittle shell that cracked beneath our horses’ hooves. Sometimes the crust held firm; other times it shattered with a sharp snap that jolted through the reins. Each breath drew cold into my lungs until it burned, and still the mountain climbed higher, cloaked in a veil of white that seemed to swallow sound itself.

‘Still excited to see snowy mountains?’ Mae cackled, her smile lines growing more pronounced.

Tomas and I exchanged glances, his eyes the only part visible beneath his hood. I wore all my clothes to stay warm, and staying dry was even more difficult. We were only a few days away from reaching Ephemeros, and the mountain snow had become thick and heavy, with sleet from the trees soaking my cloak and stinging my face. Mae rode with the hood of her fur cloak pushed back from her grey-streaked hair, her face lifted and exposed to the icy wind as if it were a balmy day in Pedion.

Despite the constant cold, travelling this far north was more enthralling than I had imagined, and the sight of the frozen lake we would cross the following morning took my breath away. Torgrin had only given me breadcrumbs when he told me that winter in the north was so cold that it froze lakes and that the snow could get as high as a person’s waist. He had failed to mention how striking and alive his birthplace was.

The mountains were majestic as they pierced the sky, and the cerulean blue of the lakes dazzled my eyes. The snow lay like a winter blanket, making everything appear pristine and untouched. I had seen white wolves and regal elk among the icy woods that seemed to thrive even in this harsh yet resplendent kingdom. Amid the jagged mountains and snow, I felt a stirring inside me, as if this icy land, home to a father I had yet to meet, was somehow familiar.

As night fell, I stayed in a meditative state. I sat quietly across the fire from the others until the curator ambled over to me. The burns he had sustained in the Murus attack had disappeared thanks to General Toro’s Anatomy Weaver.

‘I hope I’m not disturbing you.’ The curator tugged at his long black robes and shifted from foot to foot. When we first met, he told me that the Order banished him from Capita because he didn’t believe in a Cursed One who would rise and take both thrones, plunging Eritz into darkness. Then I had stopped the sun from rising for three days. Did he believe in the Cursed One now? Did he believe it was me?

‘You’re not disturbing me at all,’ I said with a smile, and he sat beside me.

He gazed into the fire, pausing briefly before speaking. ‘I’ve got something to confess, and maybe even a bit of an apology for what I did. But before that, I want to say it was all because I respected your mother immensely, and that’s why I acted the way I did.’

I stared hard at his profile. ‘My mother?’

‘I know that Queen Yaris was your mother,’ he replied.

I didn’t know what to say. Had Mae told him?

‘I guessed who you were the moment I saw you in the library. You look just like her,’ he said, studying my face. ‘I admired her very much, you see. I was miserable with my life in the Order, and she eased it for me by encouraging me to take refuge in the castle library with her.’ He smiled sadly. ‘We would read and study history and philosophy together. She was brilliant and kind.’

My heart felt heavy in my chest. The only time I had with her was in a cell. I had promised to set her free – a promise I wasn’t able to keep. I would have given anything to have known her like he did.

‘I was in Capita during your mother’s pregnancy,’ he revealed. ‘I wasn’t banished to Murus. I was there because you were nearby, Caris. I promised your mother I’d look out for you. She ordered young Iain to find a family on the other side of the Red River to raise you. She believed the king would never think to look for you there, and she sent me to Murus to keep her updated on your wellbeing. I had spies in your village who kept me informed, and I believed you were safe and happy with your new family. Was I right, Caris? Were you happy?’ Two lines formed between his eyebrows.

Unable to speak, I nodded, feeling the ache of my lost childhood. Olaf and Esma had loved me as if I were their own.

‘It was a dark time for the queen when I told her that Olaf Ironside had died and your Red River home had burnt down. I tried everything I could to find out what happened to you, but I lost track of you until you showed up in the fortress library in Murus ten winters later.’

My voice was husky and raw as I told him what had happened to us after Olaf died. ‘My mother, I mean Esma, the woman who raised me,’ I clarified for him, ‘had a dream after my father died, saying we were to leave and find my people. We crossed the river, and Merrick, the captain of a rogue patrol, captured her and murdered her.’

‘How terrible,’ he gasped, shaking his bald head.

‘That was when I met Torgrin and Atlas for the first time.’

His eyes widened at the revelation.

‘They were just boys, but they saved me from the same fate as Esma by hiding me in the woods, then sending me down the river.’ I felt the threads I thought had broken tugging at my heart as I wondered what Torgrin and Atlas were up to at that very moment.

‘It must have been fate that brought you three together again,’ said the curator solemnly.

‘Perhaps,’ I mumbled. Would fate bring them to me again, or me to them?

‘Now it’s time for my confession. I hope you will forgive me. You see, I only had your safety in mind when I did what I did.’ He inhaled deeply. ‘The queen asked me to stay in Murus and to gather information about women who might need help. The Order of Men had a chokehold on King Hared, and he was becoming crueller as the years went by. She was powerless to do anything for Weavers in Pedion, so she asked King Goa for help. We smuggled women who could not hide their power across the border, and King Goa gave them sanctuary.’

Wait. King Goa helped save Pedion woman?

‘Queen Yaris conveyed in her correspondence to me that King Goa was contemplating the usurpation of King Hared, with her assistance.’ The curator closed his eyes, and I could almost feel the tiredness in his sigh. ‘When Lord Warwick’s spies reported she had been imprisoned, I suspected she was found out, and I knew it wouldn’t be long before you suffered the same fate as your mother. While everyone was preparing to leave Murus, I sent a message to King Goa asking him to give you sanctuary, telling him where you would be and that you were travelling to Capita.’ The curator’s eyes searched my face. ‘There was a risk King Hared might guess who you were and have you killed, and then all that your mother had done to save you from him would be for nothing.’

‘King Goa sent General Toro to kidnap me while I was travelling to Capita because you told him about me?’ I had been forced to ride with a sack over my head and to kill a man who had nearly beheaded Torgrin – though I wouldn’t hesitate to do it again. I hadn’t needed to be rescued by this foreign king, whom the curator and the general seemed to believe had my best interests at heart.

‘Yes. I admit it was extreme, but would you have gone willingly?’

‘No. I wouldn’t have,’ I snapped.

His shoulders slumped and his face crumpled instantly, making me feel guilty for speaking harshly to him when he had only been trying to keep me safe from King Hared and the Order. I took a deep breath to quell my rising anger, which lately always felt near the surface.

‘I realise you only had my best interests in mind,’ I amended, ‘and I can’t be mad at someone who was such a loyal friend to my mother.’

‘I’m forgiven?’ he asked hesitantly.

‘Yes. I forgive you,’ I said sincerely.

His hands covered his face as he breathed heavily. ‘Thank you,’ came his muffled voice. I sat quietly as he regained control of his emotions. He lowered his hands and stood upright for the first time in weeks, as if a heavy weight had been lifted from him. ‘Queen Yaris would be proud of the woman her daughter has become.’ He bowed at the waist before leaving me by the fading firelight.

I tried to wipe away the hot tears that stung my chilled cheeks, but they wouldn’t stop falling.

†

Crossing the frozen lake was both thrilling and terrifying. Nightmare was surprisingly tolerant of our journey through snowdrifts, over steep mountain passes, and now across a frozen lake. Braya rode beside me, laughing at my nerves. ‘It’s completely safe to cross Mirror Lake this late into winter. It’ll save us a whole day.’

‘Why do they call it Mirror Lake?’

‘In summer, the water is so clear that the still surface perfectly reflects the mountains and the sky.’

‘Sounds beautiful.’

She smiled. ‘It is.’ Her dimples were just like her brother’s. I quickly looked away.

We crossed Mirror Lake without incident and reached the outskirts of Ephemeros. Braya named the nearby villages for Tomas and me. ‘On the other side of these mountains is the coast. We have ships in a port city called Wynmere that go out in summer to trade goods with the nearby islands and even as far as Atlantis, but Wynmere is cut off from us in winter.’

‘Why?’ I asked, although looking at the snow-covered mountains that were a lot higher than the ones we had just passed through, it wasn’t hard to guess.

‘Blizzards are common at that height, and there are siltmaw fields hidden throughout. It’s risky but possible for a small group travelling lightly to go through if they know the terrain well, but there’s no way wagons and pack horses carrying cargo can be transported through the mountains safely in winter. It does mean we have only a small window of time to get goods through the mountains to Northcliff and the surrounding villages here.’

‘What’s siltmaw?’ asked Tomas.

‘It’s a type of sand that can swallow a horse and rider whole in minutes,’ replied Braya.

‘Oh,’ said Tomas, looking horrified at the idea.

‘We’ll be in Northcliff soon. Our equivalent to Capita,’ she informed us. ‘It’s not as prosperous or impressive as Capita, but it’s where our king lives,’ she said, sounding defensive, as if she thought we were judging her home.

The villages we passed through were simple, the homes of equal size and well kept. Children with full faces and bright eyes, dressed warmly, played outside while their grandparents gossiped, their parents presumably working.

‘Did you ever visit the villages along the Red River?’ There were never children or grandparents on the banks, only the hollow eyes and sunken cheeks of middle-aged labourers with nowhere else to go.

‘No,’ Braya admitted.

‘If you had seen the village I grew up in, you wouldn’t feel the need to defend this place to me. Half of Pedion doesn’t live this well. Poverty is a sickness they can’t escape.’

‘I didn’t know,’ she said, frowning.

‘King Hared and the rest of Capita pretend not to know, which is much worse,’ I said bitterly.

The city of Northcliff was nestled among towering, snow-covered mountains. The mountains at its back and sides served as a natural barrier, and the only wall needed was built from the stone surrounding it, making the wall appear as if it had grown directly from the mountains to encircle the city protectively at the front.

The iron gates were open, and we entered Northcliff unchallenged, where we were greeted by cobblestone streets lined with timber-framed cottages and snowy rooftops. Smoke drifted lazily from chimneys, mingling with the crisp mountain air. At the heart of the city stood the formidable Northcliff Castle; its solid stone walls rose proudly against snow-capped peaks. Turrets stretched skyward, decorated with fluttering red banners bearing a fire-breathing dragon.

My hands clenched Nightmare’s reins as General Toro led us to the castle.

‘Are we meeting with King Goa now?’ I asked Braya.

‘Father was ordered to bring you straight to the castle.’

I would have liked some time to prepare to meet the king who had orchestrated my kidnapping. My desire to be reunited with my brother and father would have to wait a little longer. We entered the castle courtyard, which was dominated by a statue of a woman on a plinth in the very centre of a garden. Carved from black marble, she wielded a sword in one hand and a lightning bolt in the other. Her hair flowed around her beneath a magnificent warrior’s crown.

I dismounted Nightmare and handed her reins to a stablehand dressed in black with a quick thanks, then turned to inspect the garden around the statue.

‘Are those blue roses?’ I asked.

‘They are.’ The voice belonged to a tall young man. I was so captivated by the garden and its black marble figure that I hadn’t noticed him resting on the garden wall until he stood and spoke. He was dressed from head to toe in black like the stablehand, but his clothes were too fine to be workwear.

‘How can they grow in this cold?’ Tomas asked, coming to stand beside me.

‘We have a talented Verdant Weaver who maintains the gardens all year round.’ The young man’s voice grew even more pleasant as he cast Tomas a lingering look. I held back my smile, watching as Tomas cleared his throat and blushed.

I reached out to touch the black stone plinth. It was unexpectedly warm. ‘Who is she?’

‘She is the wicked Queen Lyla,’ he said with a broad smile, showing a row of perfect teeth.

‘Why was she wicked?’ I asked. And why would she have a prominent spot at the castle’s entrance?

‘Well, only some stories say she was wicked, but I think she was just misunderstood. She led her people here to create a new kingdom when she was deposed as queen of Eritz.’

A queen once ruled Eritz? I was sure that wouldn’t be part of any Pedion history books. ‘Is she King Goa’s ancestor?’ I asked.

The young stranger’s green eyes tilted up, narrowing in thought. ‘She’s King Goa’s great-great – you know what? I can’t remember how many greats, so yes, let’s just say she’s a relative.’ He seemed pleased with himself for sharing his knowledge, and I saw Tomas smiling back at him. It’d been too long since he last smiled, and I liked this young man for giving me a glimpse of the old Tomas.

‘I’m Caris, and this is Tomas.’

‘I’m Theon, and I welcome you both to Northcliff Castle,’ he said, spreading out his arms and dipping his head slightly. His reddish-gold hair caught the light beautifully. ‘I suppose you wish to meet my father now?’ he added with a charming grin.

I didn’t return his smile. ‘Your father?’

‘You’re here to see the king.’ It wasn’t a question but a statement.

‘You’re a prince?’ Tomas asked, his smile had also disappeared.

‘No-one told us King Goa had a son,’ I said coldly.

Prince Theon remained unfazed. ‘Follow me to the throne room,’ he said with a chuckle. ‘Only joking. My father doesn’t spend all his time sitting on his throne. Does King Hared? I heard he does and that he never, ever takes off his crown. Even bathes with it on.’

Tomas snorted, and I frowned, cautioning him not to be swayed by Prince Theon’s charms. My defences were back up now, and he needed to be cautious, too.

Mae, the curator, General Toro and Braya joined us, and we followed as Prince Theon led us through the snowy courtyard, which opened into another courtyard lined with trees. Each tree was laden with a different fruit and flowers, thriving despite the icy temperatures.

We paused outside a big glass building. Guards dressed in black leather and fur cloaks opened two glass doors. Words failed me as I stepped into the warm, fragrant glasshouse. Chirping birds filled the air as they soared gracefully among the trees, while vibrant greenery and colourful flowers spilled from pots and climbed into the branches. I was so captivated by my surroundings that I didn’t notice the man sitting at a small table until he stood up. Reluctantly, I looked away from the exotic flora surrounding us to see a face I recognised immediately.

‘I would like for you to meet my father, King Goa. Father, this is Caris and Tomas,’ said Prince Theon.

I stood frozen, gazing at the man before us, too stunned to speak.

‘I’m happy to meet you finally. I’ve heard so much about you, Caris.’ His voice was warm and charming. He sounded very much like his son.

I couldn’t take my eyes off him – I examined his face, analysing every feature.

‘Welcome to my home, Tomas, I hope you’re not too tired from the long trip. Curator, I’m so pleased to put a face to the letters. I want to thank you for bringing Caris to us.’ I couldn’t catch what the curator murmured to King Goa. The king nodded and continued, ‘I must say I’m surprised to see you here, sister. I was sure we would only see each other again in the underworld.’

My head snapped around to look at Mae. Sister? King Goa was her brother. Which would mean – her deliberate deception left a bitter taste in my mouth.

‘I came to be with Caris,’ Mae said, her words strained as her gaze flicked to me.

‘What, and leave the great Queen Yaris’s side?’ he asked.

‘She’s dead,’ I said sharply, finally finding my voice.

His grey eyes flashed, and he walked back to stand before me.

Those same grey eyes belonged to the man in Queen Yaris’s memories. He had climbed through her bedroom window, begging her to run away with him.

‘She’s gone?’ He couldn’t say the word, the word that sounded so final.

‘Yes.’ Was it regret that dimmed the light in his eyes?

‘You’re my father, aren’t you?’ I whispered, shaken.

‘Yes, I am,’ he replied quietly.

It was still morning, but the sun was merciless, casting a relentless heat over Murus. Heatwaves shimmered in the air, distorting the view of the brick houses, which appeared white under the intense glare. Paint blistered and peeled, curling up like scorched parchment from doors and windowsills.

I climbed down the wooden scaffold we had erected to repair the fire-damaged roof of the barracks. The sooner it was fixed, the sooner we could start filling it with recruits.

My shirt clung uncomfortably to my damp skin, and when my feet hit the ground, I removed it and wiped it across my soaked brow. I don’t ever remember Pedion being this hot.

A woman with large, doe-like eyes was carrying a bucket and cup, offering water to my soldiers as they laboured, carrying heavy slate tiles up and down the scaffold to those fixing them to the roof. I waved to her, and she bounded over eagerly