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and made gagging sounds, and Ginny wouldlaugh. Ginny laughed at anything that was mean. Phaedra had learned to dislike them all since their so-called deaths. If she had to hear Jorja boast, or Florenza whimper, or Cora mock, or Ginny being snide one more time, she’d find a hare or two to throw at them all herself.
    ‘What are you smiling about?’ the Princess asked, breaking Phaedra’s thoughts. Quintana sat on one of the stepping stones in the stream and Phaedra had no choice but to squat beside her. She felt the skirt of her dress soak, but refused to allow her discomfort to show.
    ‘It’s a grimace, not a smile,’ Phaedra said.
    ‘It was a smile.’
    She felt Quintana’s strange gaze and met it. Months on the mountain had made Phaedra less afraid of bullies and no people knew how to intimidate her more than the Monts. But as she returned Quintana’s stare, all Phaedra saw was that the mother of their future King was nothing but a broken, bloodied girl.
    ‘I think he’s dead,’ the Princess said quietly.
    Phaedra froze. ‘The babe?’
    The Princess shook her head.
    Phaedra waited, gently scrubbing Quintana’s face clean.
    ‘I looked back once,’ the Princess continued, ‘and counted eight arrows, and I heard his cries and saw his spirit fight to leave his body.’
    Phaedra was confused. She had heard the Princess tell Rafuel that the father of her child, the heir Tariq of Lascow, had been slaughtered in the underground caves of the Citavita. Who was this ‘he’ she was speaking of?
    ‘Is there a chance that Tariq of Lascow is alive?’ Phaedra asked, hope in her voice.
    ‘Tariq’s dead,’ Quintana said. ‘I saw his corpse. I saw them all. They died protecting me … protecting this,’ she said, pointing toher belly. ‘Maybe I’ll see your corpse, Phaedra of Alonso. Everywhere I go, I leave behind corpses.’ There were tears of fury in the girl’s eyes. ‘I left him behind, dying.’
    Phaedra failed to hide a shudder. ‘Who are you speaking of?’ she dared to ask. She thought of Rafuel’s warning on the day Quintana of Charyn had entered their life. The less they knew, the better it was for them all.
    ‘Who, if not Tariq of Lascow?’ Phaedra persisted.
    The Princess leaned forward, pressing her lips against Phaedra’s ear. Phaedra smelt the stench of hare’s blood.
    ‘Froi of Lumatere.’
    Phaedra stumbled back into the water, stunned. She remembered the story she had heard of the rescue in the Citavita. He had swung through the air to save Quintana. The audacity of his actions had made Phaedra like Froi even more than she had the one or two times they had met on the mountain. She knew what he meant to Lucian and Tesadora, as well as Perri, the guard who shared Tesadora’s bed. Some said the Queen and her consort loved the lad as if he were a brother.
    And then Phaedra remembered Rafuel’s strange words:
Did you mate with the lastborn?
    ‘Is he the father?’ she asked, horrified. ‘Froi of Lumatere?’
    ‘Don’t let me have to kill you for knowing that, idiot girl,’ Quintana threatened. ‘Don’t let me hear you speak it out loud to those parrots in the cave.’
    ‘Then why tell me?’ Phaedra cried, getting to her feet and following the stepping stones across the stream to get as far away from the girl as possible. She couldn’t bear the idea of what the Lumateran’s death would do to those on the mountain and beyond. Worse still, it would mean true war between the two kingdoms.
    When they returned to the cave, Phaedra heard the hushed fighting in an instant. They called it their prison. It was a small shrinehouse that from the outside looked like any other cave, much like those upstream, half-concealed with shrubs and vines. But once inside, there were two chambers. The larger one was dedicated to the Goddess Sagrami, a fact that unnerved them all. Sagrami was the goddess of blood and tears and was said to have cursed Lumatere. It was also further proof that despite