The world shifted beneath her feet. Her hands trembled.

She hated this square. They'd cleaned the blood away and taken the bodies back to their families, but it made no difference. She still heard the screams echo through the air. She still smelled the copper tang of blood in the air. When she closed her eyes, she was back in the midst of the attack as the arrows flew, the blood sprayed and she clambered over dead bodies as that horrible, strangling thought took over:

What happened to the others?

Kestra drew in a deep breath. The scared girl within her had to stay buried deep. She could not afford to let her show. Her people needed a queen—someone who would not falter. The frightened child within her was of no use to anyone.

Her mother had taken no risks when it came to her protection. They didn't know if Kestra was still Diaz's focus, or if the general would now move onto Scarlet, her next target. But it didn't matter. Everyone on Diaz's list was well-protected, each watched by a dozen of Myra's best, hand-selected from the Five Courts' pool of soldiers.

A mix of the hardened and experienced and the young and fresh, they were all deadly. Her pair of Elfin Shields had a protective force field around her at all times. Alexus' wife, Alice, had been sent by Nala to join Kestra's guard and had become fast friends with the three 'priestesses of Lysandrism' who each carried an assortment of knives and a command from their empress to protect her to their last breaths. Three valkyries had also been assigned to defend her, often bickering with the two FireBreathers who shadowed her every step. But it was the last member of the guard disturbed Kestra the most: a mute priestess of the Blade Sect, a group of valkyries who worshipped the sword as a fourth goddess. They were rumoured to sleep with their blades under their pillows.

But her guard were almost unnecessary, given either Layla, Scarlet, Lysandra or her mother found excuses to be around her at all times. She might be somewhat flattered that Lysandra had bothered to care (because there was no way that Myra had managed to bully her into it), but the rest of them were just plain annoying. Jasper would have found excuses to follow her around too (and she'd have been grateful for his cheerful presence) but he was busy standing vigil over her mother.

Suffice to say, all of this was driving Kestra insane. But at least for this speech the guards were forced to retreat behind the square stage. A brief reprieve.

"Mere days ago, in this very square, people like you and I were killed at the hands of extremists, murderers." Kestra began. "People who would undo our very way of life and return the world to war, division and suffering. Their crimes are unspeakable. But what they wish to do is far, far worse." Silence hung over the square.

"They wish to murder every elf and every human—anyone without valkyrie blood. Every child guilty of nothing but being born a certain way. That is their so-called Mirasen Empire." A few gasps of surprise and horror from those who didn't know the legend. Kestra nodded grimly.

"The extremists who did this are not valkyries." She continued. "They are not citizens of my country. They are monsters, murderers and fanatics.

"But I survived them. I was captured by the pretender, Juliet Diaz and with the help of my friends—elves and humans who risked their lives to save mine—I was set free.

"These people are not invulnerable. They struck as shadows in the dark. But if we stand united, then they shall never triumph.

"We are a young Alliance, but we are strong. The bonds between us are strong. We shall not falter. And I am proud to stand her today as a queen of the valkyries—and a member of the Alliance.

"Today we grieve," Kestra said. "For the brave, open-hearted souls that

were stolen from us too soon and so cruelly."

"Tomorrow we avenge them," Myra said, out onto the stage withn her held high. Kestra stepped back to let the crowd see her mother walk onto the stage.

"Tomorrow we hunt these people down and we make them answer for their crimes. We shall not be afraid. We will not waste our fear on cowards that strike in the dark. We shall not bow to these traitors, these frauds, these murderers.

"Tomorrow, we bring justice to the monsters who stole our beloved from us. We will show them that the people of the Lost Continent will not stand for murder, or hatred, or division. We will not stand for the extremism that fuels these people into committing such crimes. They stole the lives of those dearest to us. We shall take our vengeance.

"When we fight, we fight for the eighty people stolen from us,the children orphaned and the innocents slain. We fight to avenge them all. Today, we grieve, but tomorrow, the Dragon will roar!"

Kestra had to be give her mother credit. Decades leading the army had taught her well, but there was something about the way she spoke that could not be trained. She possessed the strange and terrifying ability to inspire men and women to go to their deaths for her, hanging upon her every rage-filled word.

They said her mother's value to her country was in her blade or in her devious mind. They were wrong. The true power of the Dragon was in her words. Even now, Kestra felt ready to follow the woman crying out for vengeance to the other side of the world, through war and suffering and all the way to the grave.

Power. In her cunning mind, in her swift blade and in her very words, her mother was a creature of power—and rage.

———

Nala, Lysandra and Layla made their speeches afterwards, but none made quite as much of an impression as Myra's fiery monologue.

They missed out a few key parts of what they knew—the Embers, Anastasia, the Western Marshes. If Diaz were to discover half of their knowledge of her plans, then they'd lose the advantage of surprise.

Getting through all five of them took forever, but they had little choice. Miss Layla and the elves were being excluded. Forget Nala and Calore was being sidelined. Lose Kestra and people would worry that the Keepers were ignored because this was a matter of war.

When the speeches were at last over, she and her mother left the stage to walk back home together.

"I want to learn how to fight." She said suddenly. "There are people that are determined to kill me and I want to be able to defend myself rather than running. I have a reasonable war-gift and form; nothing like you or Scarlet or Mireia or...Viktoria." Goddesses damn it, that name still stung, but she said it anyway. "But I have some natural ability and I learnt my way around the blade and bow when I was in the rebellion. I'd have been trained as a warrior if I wasn't the Keeper Heir. So I want to learn how to defend myself."

Myra was silent, considering.

"Fine" her mother replied. " So long as you understand that a few weeks' training won't do much against Diaz's warriors. And that you probably won't be able to beat anyone else with any real experience. There's no training you in a couple of months what we teach our warriors across nine years."

"I know that. I don't have to beat them. I just have to fight back and die on my feet." Kestra replied.

"Let's avoid dying if at all possible," Myra said dryly, though there was worry in her tone. "But you're right. You should learn. What I—and others—teach you won't mean you don't need guards, though. Or that your training will make a big

difference in a fight."

"What is it that you taught me, mother? The smallest difference can tilt the balance." Her mother smiled slightly at that.

"You may be a Keeper, but you are a general's daughter still." Myra said softly.

It sounded like it was meant to be a compliment, but the tone of sorrow

underpinning it made it sound like more of an epitaph.

———

Kestra took a deep breath and drew back the string of the bow further and further. The world narrowed to the feel of the wood in her hand, the soft touch of the feathered tip on her chin, the target and the wind brushing her cheek with cold. She let the string go and felt the tension in the bowstring fall away. The arrow whizzed through the air, and her heart swelled with hope as it arced through the air.

It landed somewhere in the dirt, about a metre from the target. Oh well.

Kestra had a High Council meeting in a few hours but in the meanwhile, she was on the training field, practicing her archery. She knew that she should probably be preparing for the meeting instead—it would certainly do more for her country than this—but something about the practice was calming. Despite the constant frustration it brought, it was a good distraction. From Diaz, and Valkyrie Ascension, and a thousand other things that prowled at the corners of her mind.

She drew the bowstring back again, so far her muscles trembled with the effort. Her eyes honed in on the target. Not that she'd ever hit it.

Kestra silently prepared to release that arrow, praying to Sarai, who might have taken her had she might not been chosen by another goddess...

Someone snorted in the background, Kestra's concentration broke and her arrow went flying into a large pile of horse dung.

She whirled around, fully ready to berate whoever had made her miss her target, when she found Leticia watching her, brown eyes sparkling with amusement.

"I wouldn't have botched it if you hadn't distracted me," she said defensively.

"Do you think that when people try to kill you it won't be distracting?"

Leticia laughed.

"Have you come here just to criticise my shooting?" Kestra asked grumpily.

"No, I came to berate you because you've forgotten to research with me for the past few nights." Leticia replied. Kestra swore.

"Goddesses above. I'm so sorry. I'll be there tonight."

"It's not that I'm angry about." Leticia snapped. "You lied to me! You never told me that Queen Vera was an Oracle."'

"What?" Kestra exclaimed. "Vera was an Oracle?"

"She didn't tell you either?" Leticia blinked.

"We didn't discuss it things like that. I was twelve when she died, remember? She didn't even know I had dreams as well."

"You didn't tell her?" Her friend said incredulously.

"I had no idea they were Oracle dreams." Kestra shrugged. "Nobody believes that they're anything but myth and legend anymore."

"Most historians still believe they're real." Leticia countered.

"Exactly," Kestra replied. "Nobody." Her friend glared at her.

"Why do you think Vera was an Oracle?" Kestra asked, steering the conversation back on track.

"Well, I eventually gave up on the confirmed Oracles and moved onto others. Queens who historians were certain never had the gift. And in Vera's writings, she mentioned a dream."

"A dream?" Kestra repeated sceptically. "Did she call it a vision, or did she call it a dream?"

"She called it a dream," Leticia said carefully. "But she said it was as clear and sharp as—"

"Broken glass." Kestra finished. "What else did she say?"

Leticia merely handed her the book of Vera's writings.

"Taking a restricted book out of the library. Very naughty, Leticia." Kestra laughed.

She flipped to the bookmarked page. Seeing Vera's handwriting again.... She forced back the swelling emotion in her chest. She hadn't read her mentor's writings before now for this very reason.

Last night, the strangest thing happened to me. I was singing Kestra to sleep—how strange it is for Myra of all people to have adopted the child! —and I suddenly found myself blacking out. I think I must have fallen asleep or hit my head, because before I knew it I was dreaming...

It wasn't an ordinary dream. No, it was so, so vivid. Clear and sharp as broken glass. In it, a girl—barely past twelve—was running. Across wastelands and beaches, through mountain paths and over rivers. The girl had black hair, just like Kestra's. And her eyes...they were just like Kestra's as well.

I spoke to Vicky about it this morning. She attributed it to having too much food before bed, but somehow I think it might be more...it left me with such a strange feeling.

The day went otherwise as usual. The viziers are still fretting about

The next page had been removed. Not just accidentally ripped, but carefully cut out so that no one would notice that a part of the book was missing at a cursory glance.

Had Vera later removed the rest of her entry because she realised what had happened had been an Oracle's dream? And the vision itself...

Her. It had been her that her mentor had seen, fleeing Azul and finding her way to the Eastern Mountains, where she'd eventually cross paths with Rose's rebel group. Vera had had a vision twelve years in the future. For her to see that far, she had to have been one of the greatest Oracles in history.

"Did she have any other visions?" Kestra asked.

"No," Leticia answered. "I combed through her whole diary and there was nothing even resembling one. Unless, of course, they were in those torn-out pages."

"How many do you reckon were torn?" Kestra.

"A couple of day's worth," Leticia shrugged. "The entries don't start up again for

two more days. But isn't this amazing? Vera was an Oracle, Kestra. Everyone thought we hadn't had any for nearly four hundred years until you. This will make my name as a historian!"

"Leticia," Kestra cautioned.

"I obviously won't tell anyone about you being one too, Kes." Leticia reassured her. "But Vera's dead, that's her only vision and there's no reason the world shouldn't know—"

"I want to find out what was in those pages before we do anything, Leticia." Kestra said. "Something about them makes me uneasy. Can we just keep this to ourselves until we know everything?"

"Okay, Kes." Leticia said. "But if we can't find the pages—"

"Leticia, I'm ordering you as your queen." Kestra commanded. "Just give me some time."

"Of course, Your Majesty." Leticia said, a touch cooly. She felt horrible about disappointing her. Finding something like this was Leticia's dream. She didn't really want to be a vizier—she just wanted to be a historian. It was her passion.

But something in Vera's journal entry set Kestra on edge. And she was determined to find out the truth of it.