Iris’s heart was pounding, her fingers trembling, and her breath heavy. They had just gotten past MacLagan himself, and he hadn’t been that terrible.

  They made it out of Iridia easily enough with the morning sun guiding their way and, as MacLagan promised, they were not followed. The crumbling city was eerily empty.

  Soren led the way, and Lyle went last, still holding the bow at the ready and constantly glancing back.

  As they exited Iridia and skirted its outside wall, she was about to ask where they were going when Soren suddenly ran ahead of them. Iris and Lyle followed, exchanging a confused look as Soren approached three crumbling pillars that might have once been statues. He fell to his knees before them, kissed his hands, and pressed them to the ground.

  Before they could ask, Soren started talking. “At the end of the second age, Prince Randol was second in line to the throne of Iridia. In an attempt to usurp his older sister and take the throne, he opened the gates—in secret—and let the Andill clans sack the city.

  “The clans had promised Prince Randol they would spare his family from the slaughter and put him on the throne. Instead, they executed every member of his family in front of him, and then executed him, laughing at his foolishness.

  “And so Iridia fell. Two months later, Herald Bridger, a friend of the royal family, appeared at the gates of the mountain city of Rembar, which was at the time Iridia’s closest ally. He claimed to have taken the Crown of Iridis, the most valuable object in Iridia, just as the attack began, to keep it safe. He told them that he had hidden it somewhere and that he would only reveal the location to the King of Rembar.

  “Unfortunately, the guards didn’t believe him at first, and by the time the King of Rembar heard about this, Herald Bridger had already died of a sickness he picked up on the road. The crown of Iridis, which—according to ancient tradition—gives one the right to rule over Ordivicia and the Kailands, was lost.

  “Many people have looked for it, turning over every rock and stone on the path between Iridia and Rembar, as well as looking for secret places inside the ruins of Iridia, but to no avail.”

  Soren nodded in Iris’s direction without moving his eyes from the statue. “Your father was certain that Herald hid it somewhere with a distinguished marker, so he could just tell the king the location and he could send his men to retrieve it easily, since he was not well himself.”

  Iris was slowly approaching the statues, eyes wide.

  Lyle stood back, still glancing back the way they came, bow gripped in his hands.

  “So Malcolm and I looked into it further—hoping we could find some clue that others had overlooked. We tried to find everything from Herald’s past, to learn more about him. It turns out he wasn’t from Iridia originally. He was actually born and raised in Elysia. Elysians followed the god Moura, the fawn, while Iridians followed Eshar, the horse.

  “Then, in the writings of Pella Remera, from a hundred years before the fall of Iridia, we found something odd: she made a comment about how prejudiced the people of Iridia were, to make people who follow a god other than theirs go outside the city walls to pray.

  “We couldn’t understand what that meant. How could they possibly stop people from praying to their own gods inside city walls? Then we found . . .” He laughed hoarsely. “We found a book, a children’s storybook, in which the character went outside of Iridia to pray at some statues. Someone, apparently, had made statues of the other three gods and set up a place just outside the city walls for meetings and prayer. This wouldn’t have been a place that normal Iridians would have even known or cared about, most likely. But foreigners would have been keenly aware of its existence.

  “The question is, if he set it here: would he have buried it under the fawn, god of his home, to ask for protection, or the wolf, the god that the barbarians followed, because they would certainly not dare desecrate an altar to their own god? Or, perhaps, to be least suspected, or from his scholarly pursuits and knowledge that she protects history, the bird? If it’s here, I suppose we’ll learn something about Herald Bridger of Elysia today.”

  He took a deep breath and blinked a few times.

  “Did you tell MacLagan this?” Iris murmured.

  Soren shook his head. “He knew that I knew where it was, but I wouldn’t tell him.” His voice quivered, and Iris wondered if the Ordics’ infamous torture had been used. “That’s why he kept me. He said the information could rot with me down there.” He rubbed his arms and moved forward.

  The statues were very old, but Iris could just make out the shapes of a fawn lying down, a bird standing up, and a wolf sitting on its haunches.

  “The wolf,” Soren went on, “the fawn, the bird, and the horse. The wolf protects the fawn. The fawn humbles the bird, the bird advises the horse, and the horse reminds the wolf of his honor. Which one?”

  Iris went to the fawn and began searching all around its base, while Soren searched the wolf. Lyle hesitantly went to the bird.

  A warm feeling bloomed inside Iris’s her stomach. Was it truly here, somewhere? Would they find it and be able to bring it to her mother?

  The city of Iridia loomed above them like a broken mountain in the morning light.

  Lyle put the bow around his shoulder, but didn’t unstring it.

  Iros felt something hard against her fingertips as she dug. She brushed aside the dirt and saw a metal box. Her heart leaped into her throat as she said, “I—I found something.”

  Soren rushed over to her and helped her unbury the box and lift it out.

  They stared at each other as they held it at the same time. Could it really be? Soren had the same expression as her—excitement, fear, anticipation, and some sadness. If this was it, her father would still never know he had succeeded, or see her mother wearing it. It was strange, sharing such depth of emotion with a near-stranger.

  Iris let go of the box, allowing Soren to open it. He was the one who had come all this way. She heard Lyle’s footsteps behind her as he came to see.

  Soren stared at the box for a few long seconds, then lifted the rusty latch and opened the box.

  The box was lined with what looked like it used to be purple velvet, but now was falling in strips and turning to dust as Soren brushed it aside. Inside the box sat a beautiful crown, unblemished and shining. The metal was black, the jewels dark violet.

  Iris covered her mouth with both hands as tears came to her eyes. Her father had done this for her mother. An impossible task.

  Soren sniffed as he gently ran his fingers along the jewels, and she realized he was crying as well.

  “How has it not eroded?” she asked quietly, for other than the dust, the crown looked new.

  “Blacksteel and purple diamonds,” Soren whispered.

  “Blacksteel?” she asked. “Isn’t that . . .”

  “Forged by dragon fire,” Soren breathed. “Supposedly. Either way . . . priceless.” He wiped his nose and looked around. “We should go. Quickly.”

  He closed the box and held it close to his chest as they stood. “This way,” he said, pointing into the woods. “There used to be a road to Northfort right there.”

  There was a slight gap in the forest, completely overgrown with grass and brush, but it was safer than the main road.

  *****

  It was a tiring trek; they tripped over rocks and holes often. Occasionally they saw bricks half-buried in the ground, which must have been what the road had been made out of.

  Just as Iris grew mercilessly thirsty, they heard a river, and only had to follow the sound a short way from the trail to find the water.

  It was cold and fresh, and the river roared. They drank as much as they could, then kept walking.

  They did not talk much, for they were exhausted, but Iris found herself walking close beside Lyle, because as much as she was elated to think of seeing her mother again, and Oliver, and hopefully Clive, she was dreading the end of this. The part where she and Lyle would go their separate ways.

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  “I can’t believe we really got out of there,” Iris voiced.

  Iris found herself smiling at how ludicrous it was that Lyle, a boy from nowhere, had broken them out of a dungeon and then threatened Malcolm MacLagan himself, practically single-handedly, and without blinking an eye.

  Soren said in a very somber tone, “We both owe you our lives, Lyle.”

  Iris knew Lyle’s answer before he said it, so she said it with him, in a mocking tone:

  “It’s my job.”

  Lyle, surprised, flashed her a big smile.

  “My mother is going to offer you anything you want,” she told him. “What are you going to ask for?”

  “Just money for my family, like I said.”

  “You will be a legend in my country for threatening Malcolm MacLagan. Are you really going to just go back to your valley after that?”

  Lyle shrugged. “I have to. For my family—my brother, I mean.”

  “You could send the money to them and stay out here. You could do anything. If you kept a fraction of the money for yourself, you could travel. Or anything else that you want.” She gestured all around her. “This world, this history—it’s yours, too. This crown, it was the crown of your people, too. Iridia was built by both our people. You’re a part of all of this, and it’s a part of you. You have every right to go out into the world and see everything. There are so many exciting things out there—whatever you want to do or see, you can. We can help you. I could—even go with you, maybe. We could do it together.”

  He shook his head slowly. “I can’t abandon my family.”

  “You wouldn’t be abandoning them—you can tell them where you’re going. I’m sure they would be thrilled. You can always go back and visit them.”

  “They wouldn’t understand.”

  “Does it matter?”

  He glanced at her, and it looked like he was on the verge of anger. “Of course it matters. They’re my family.”

  “And what about what you want?” she insisted. “Doesn’t that matter?”

  Lyle turned his gaze to the trees around them and didn’t answer.

  Iris looked to Soren for support. “He has never left his hometown before. He doesn’t think there’s anything out in the world worth seeing.”

  Soren hesitated. He watched his feet and stepped carefully as he spoke. “I’ve seen things I could never imagine from traveling. But I wouldn’t know much about family, I’ve never had one.”

  Iris and Lyle both looked over at him, curious.

  Soren smiled grimly. “Your father picked me up off the streets of Ilyich, Iris. Both my parents were lost to opium.”

  Iris ducked her head. The illegal opium trade was the dark side of her favorite city. Her father had spent his life fighting against the smuggling trade for that exact reason. His own mother had almost died of an opium overdose when he was young.

  “Truly it was your mother who found me,” Soren went on. “She used to hand out money and food to the street children in Ilyich, because had been stuck surviving on the streets of Breden, once upon a time. She knew what it was like.” He sniffed. “Your father saw promise in me and sponsored me to make it into the Academy of Endal. If it weren’t for that, I don’t know how my life would have gone. I can never repay your parents.”

  Iris found herself fighting back tears. She swallowed and moved over to touch Soren’s shoulder. “You have repaid them. With this.” She pointed to the box he was cradling in his arms. “And by helping me.”

  Soren nodded and wiped at his eyes. “I certainly hope so.” After a moment, he motioned to Lyle. “We were speaking of travel. I believe you should do whatever your heart tells you. If you wish to go home, then you should go home. If you wish to see more of the world, we can help you with that. It is up to you entirely. You would certainly be welcome to stay.”

  “My mother could get you a job in Whitehall, where we live,” Iris offered Lyle.

  “You could train to be a soldier,” Soren agreed. “You are certainly a force to be reckoned with.”

  Iris bit her tongue, remembering the way Oliver had switched so quickly between a loving brother figure and a cold soldier. She did not ever want to see the expressions Oliver had made on Lyle’s friendly face. Nor did she want him to die like that man in the hallway, blood squirting so high . . .

  She glanced at Lyle and to her dismay found that his eyes had lit up.

  “Or you could work in the stables,” she said quickly. “Or the kitchens, the smithery . . . here are many great places to work.”

  “He already knows how to fight,” Soren countered.

  “Maybe we should let him decide,” Iris said icily.

  Lyle raised his eyebrows, amused. “I would have to think about it, but a solder is—”

  “The important part,” Iris said, “is that you remember that this is your life, Lyle. My mother once told me that the only thing in this world that is truly and completely your own is your life. Your experience. If you limit yourself to what other people want to you do, then you—ouch!” She tripped on a root and landed hard on her knees. She hissed through her teeth against the pain.

  When she looked up, she found Lyle holding out his hand. She took it and he helped her to her feet.

  “Are you all right?” Soren inquired.

  “Fine,” Iris said shortly, brushing at the green stains on her trousers.

  As they continued walking, Soren said, “I think what Iris is trying to say, Lyle, is that she doesn’t want you to go home. But you can’t live your life based on what others want of you.”

  Iris opened her mouth to make a retort, then slowly closed it again.

  “I understand,” Lyle said softly. “And I was going to say, a soldier is what my father was. Maybe it’s in my blood.”

  “It certainly seems to be,” Soren agreed.

  Iris silently seethed. Men were ridiculous.

  *****

  In all, it took about two hours to get out of the woods. When they reached the edge of the tree line, just as Soren had predicted, Northfort was in their view. There was a big field of yellow grass, though it was half the height of the grass in Lyle’s valley. Iris watched Lyle brush his fingers along the grass and tilt his head to listen.as they walked toward the road.

  They had a clear view of the fort, made out of the same white stone as Whitehall, but far smaller and with fewer towers. A big wall surrounded it, and at the moment it was teeming with soldiers.

  When they reached the road, it was a simple task to hail some of the soldiers in the distance, who came racing to them on horseback. Though she knew by their uniforms that they were her mother’s men, the thundering of hooves as they approached still made her tense up. She gripped Lyle’s arm.

  The soldiers’ horses came to a halt just a few paces from them, throwing their heads and snorting. “Names and business?” one man asked quickly, though his eyes were trained on Iris.

  “My name is Soren Henders,” Soren said hoarsely. “I’m a friend of your queen. I have her daughter.”

  The soldier nodded to Iris, his expression serious but looking more relieved by the second. “Princess Iris?”

  Iris nodded.

  He bowed his head. “Captain Renon, at your service. The queen will be very relieved to see you. She is inside Northfort waiting for you. We’ve been searching everywhere for you.”

  “Yes, I know. Thank you.”

  The man swept the surrounding area with his eyes, then turned in his saddle and motioned for more soldiers to come over. A group of four broke away from a group and headed their way.

  “Do you have my brother?” Iris asked. “Clive, have you found him?”

  “Yes,” the man said shortly.

  Iris’s shoulders dropped.

  “He came to us yesterday with a circus group, but he couldn’t tell us where you were, just that you were with a boy who helped you.” His eyes fell on Lyle.

  “His name is Lyle of Ene,” Iris declared, which made Lyle snort quietly.

  “Very well,” the captain said.

  “And Oliver Torrey?” she asked, bracing herself. “Is he all right?”

  The captain nodded. “Injured but alive, I’ve been told. He remained in Whitehall.”

  Iris let out a deep breath. She wondered how much trouble Oliver was in, to have been left behind, or perhaps he was too injured to travel.

  Just then, the four riders came up and halted, all looking at Iris. “You three,” the captain said, gesturing, “off your horses, hand them over to the princess and her escorts.” He pointed to the fourth man. “You and I will ride with them back to the fort.”

  Iris was deeply relieved. She did not want to walk another step. She had walked more in the past few days than ever before in her life, and her feet ached like nothing else. Hunger bit at her stomach.

  The soldiers dropped down from their horses, and Soren thanked them as he stepped up into a saddle.

  Lyle gave the horses a skeptical look.

  “Have you ever ridden a horse before?” Iris whispered to him. He shook his head.

  She waved a hand to the captain. “We can share a horse, then we’ll only be stealing two from you.” The captain nodded distractedly, looking back at the castle.

  She was about to discreetly demonstrate how to mount a horse for Lyle, then realized the horse was far too tall for her to mount alone. One of the soldiers immediately interlaced his hands as a step for her, which she gratefully took. He offered the same for Lyle, and with a brave face, Lyle mimicked what Iris had done and managed to land it perfectly, sitting behind her on the saddle.

  She took the reins in hand and whispered, “Hold on.”

  He held onto her waist and whispered back, “My last name is Jennings.”

  *****

  Her mother and Clive were waiting just inside the gates of Northfort. Iris practically fell off her horse into the arms of her mother, crying with relief.

  “Oh, Iris, I thought the worst,” her mother gasped. “I’m so glad you’re here. Are you all right? Are you hurt?”

  “I’m all right,” Iris said, but it wasn’t very convincing, because it came out in the form of a sob. Her mother held her tighter. “I’m—I’m fine,” Iris managed to say in a normal voice. “Just—really tired, and hungry.”

  “Of course, we’ll get you all fixed up—“ she held Iris’s head in her hands and looked her in the eyes. “Are you sure you’re all right?”

  “Yes.”

  “Gods, I thought the Ordics had you.”

  “They . . . they did. We saw MacLagan and—“

  “What?”

  “Lyle got us out, he nearly shot MacLagan, and . . . it was—it was . . . but we made it out fine, and we found . . .”

  Her mother had already stood up to come to Lyle, who had just managed to step down from the horse. “You must be Lyle,” she said breathlessly. “Thank you for saving them, Clive told me everything, the bear, and . . . thank you.”

  Clive came up and hugged Iris, his hair all tidy and his clothes fancy and clean. She squeezed her brother tight. “I didn’t mean to leave you,” she whispered. “I’m so sorry. We were in the wagon just behind you, but they went different ways. I’m so glad you’re all right.”

  Clive didn’t answer, just held onto her tighter than he ever had before.

  Lyle was trying to answer the queen but didn’t seem to know how. “Yes, ma’am—it—it was nothing, I—”

  Iris caught his eye and mouthed, “My Lady.”

  “My—my Lady.”

  The queen laughed in a bit of a hysterical way. She put one hand on his shoulder and another on his jaw in a motherly way, and Iris watched Lyle’s face go from confusion to pain. “Thank you,” the queen said. Lyle nodded but looked away because tears were forming in his eyes.

  Then Tahlia caught sight of Soren, standing back and waiting out the reunion. She stopped and blinked a few times before managing, “Soren Henders?”

  Filthy amd unshaven, his clothes torn and stained, Soren was also on the verge of tears. He knelt before the queen and raised the box. “It was his last act,” he said huskily, then opened it. The violet-studded crown sparkled in the sunlight. “For you. My queen.”

  Tahlia covered her mouth with a hand, stood for a moment, then fell to her knees and hugged him. She started to break down into tears.

  Compelled by a burst of compassion and grief, Iris went to her mother and knelt beside her, and Clive immediately did the same on her other side. Tahlia pulled her children’s heads to herself and cried.

  Iris’s chest racked with pain, her whole body enveloped in it, but knowing great relief with the sharing of this grief. After a while, her mother lifted her head long enough to wave Lyle over. “Come here,” she said, and Lyle came and quietly knelt between Soren and Iris.

  Pressed between her mother and Lyle, Iris closed her eyes and let out a deep breath.