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Yennes almost walked headlong into a crate of birds who squawked indignantly as she skirted them. “Why did you bring me here?”

“Because it seems you need your fill of all Terrsaw has to offer, despite my better judgement,” she said, then nodded to where a statue loomed high over the rooftops on the right. “We’re here as tourists.”

Baltisse led her down one alley and the next. The paths became cleaner here, less haphazard and mired road dust. The people were swathed in a wider variety of colour too. They met in quick conversation with one another and parted smiling. Their arms were laden with more food than seemed possible, baskets of breads and produce. There were musicians that played strange instruments and doors adorned with signs she could not read. Yennes marvelled at it all.

Ahead, a large stone structure stood. It was remarkably carved into the shape of two people. The first seemed to be the image of a man, though his face was worn and cracked. There was a crown atop his head and a staff in his mighty hand. Beside him was the kneeling form of a woman. Her hands rested benignly on her thighs, her posture deferential, and she stared at the King with almost religious zeal. Even in stone, the woman’s eyes showed a depth of feeling. Yennes tilted her head and looked at the structure in wonder. She thought that whoever this woman was, she must have been in love.

“Who were they?” Yennes asked as they approached. She had never seen something so big carved into something so beautiful.

“King Kladerstaff,” Baltisse said, in a voice at odds with Yennes’ regard, “and his wife… Queen Yerdos.”

Yennes frowned slightly, looking at the woman named Yerdos. “But she is not crowned?”

“No,” Baltisse mumbled. “History is often forgetful.”

“She was beautiful.” There was no denying the fact. The woman’s hair was wild yet fell in hypnotising waves down her back. “She must have loved him.”

“It depends on your perspective. Some say she kneels before her King, marvelling at him…”

Yennes turned to look at the mage, frowned, then turned back to the monument. “Shedoeskneel before him. What could others possibly say?”

Baltisse smiled sadly. Then she pulled Yennes around the monument, until they were looking over Yerdos’ stone shoulder, seeing what she saw. “Some say it is not a marvelling we see in her eyes but a longing for something lost.”

From this angle, Yerdos’ eyes seemed to look notatKing Kladerstaff, but past him. They appeared aligned with the mountain in the distance, its height disappearing into deep cloud cover. Suddenly the young queen’s lips did not seem parted in awe, but in sorrow. Her eyes did not glimmer in reverence, but in heartbreak.

“She was a mage, before she was a queen,” Baltisse said, so quietly that Yennes looked about them, as though she might find onlookers lurking by their shoulders. “And she did not fare well as a royal. Power is alluring, Yennes. Those leading a kingdom will covet it, try to use it. Magic like ours ought to stay hidden so that it might remain our own.”

Yennes couldn’t help but glance back at the monument as they walked away, and once more she saw a woman desperately in love with a man.

It made her blanch.

In a tavern tucked away by the town square, Baltisse led Yennes to a table. She bought her food and water and grinned at the way Yennes’ face lit up. “You are a strange sight to behold,” she told the Ledge woman. “It’s only lamb.”

Yennes shoved the food between her teeth and paid the mage no mind. No food had ever tasted so good, arriving on platters as though she had summoned it from the air.

She drained her cup, then looked around for more. “What is it they drink?” she asked abruptly, pointing to the tall tankards of men milling about the tables.

Baltisse’s eyes narrowed. “Nothing you ought to try.”

Yennes sat back in her chair, compliant. Then something sloshed into her lap and forearms settled on her shoulders as someone heavy leant over her from behind. “Never mind yer matron,” the rough voice growled, the heat of his breath cloying in her ear. “Open wide, lass. Have a sip.” He held a tankard to her lips.

Her muscles coiled, ready to grasp the back of the man’s neck and pull his forehead down to crack against the table. Her body screamed at her to act. But her mind froze. Her lips trembled. She stiffened beneath his weight rather than fight it off.

The tankard came to her lips and a bitter, warm liquid filled her mouth.

“No,” Baltisse said icily. And suddenly, the weight was gone. Yennes fumbled for the tankard as the man seized on the floor, flailing wildly, then went limp.

The mage’s eyes churned.

“What ’appened to ’im?” another patron asked, having been knocked to the side as the great lout fell.

“Drunk,” Baltisse said, blinking innocently.

But the patron clearly saw in her eyes what Yennes could see – that ethereal glow, the blossoming gold. He turned back to his party quickly without enquiring further. Smart man.

Yennes considered the unconscious man a moment longer, and then the tankard he’d left her. It was amber, filmy and pungent. She brought the cup hesitantly to her lips and drank. It wasn’t unpleasant. In fact, it coated her tongue and throat in a satisfying way. “Whatisthis?”

Baltisse looked foreboding. “As I said,” she answered dryly. “Nothing you ought to try.”