It was strange, thought Melanna, how something so horrific as a sword could become part of something so beautiful. But that was the contradiction of war, and the contradiction of warriors. No order had been given for the cairn’s construction. The men simply knew to salute their opponents even while they mourned their own loss.

Glory in victory, fortitude in defeat, and honour always.

“Do you think I’m prone to delusion, Sera?” Melanna said.

“I would not have put it so, Ashanal.”

Again, that tone. “How would you put it?”

“I fear that your heart is sick with failure. That you are impatient for new battles. I fear that it is not the goddess you hear, but your own pride. Have you spoken of this with your father?”

Melanna pinched her eyes shut and gave an angry shake of the head. “He wouldn’t understand.”

“Or do you fear he’d understand too well? This defeat rests as poorly with him as it does with you.” She drifted closer, head dipping respectfully. Close enough that the heady scent of sanctum-incense danced on the breeze between them. “The lunassera will fight for you, Ashanal. We will die for you in need, as so many of our sisters already have. But as I stand with you now, I cannot be certain that need is upon us.”

“The goddess believes it is,” snapped Melanna. “She stood with me on these stones and spoke of my responsibilities.”

Or the responsibilities of the Ashanal. A name she’d stolen. But even now, Melanna couldn’t spur herself to that confession. The shame went too deep.

Sera spread her arms wide. “Then where is her sign? Where is the fire and the moonlight?”

Melanna had no answer. Certainly Ashana had granted her no weapon and no magic. Perhaps because she had no more to lend. Or perhaps Sera was correct. Perhaps she had imagined it all. Perhaps the dream had merely been a dream – a reflection of sundered pride.

No. She couldn’t think that way. If she was to amount to anything at all – if she was to become an empress fit to guide her people – she had to have faith in herself. She’d lived for years knowing that to be true. Why was it so hard now? Why was her chest so tight she could barely breathe?

That answer, at least, was obvious. Sera had believed in her, and now she did not.

“Why are you so against this, Sera? Are you afraid?”

“If the Dark has returned, we should all be afraid, Ashanal.”

“Then we fight to take away the fear, as is our way.”

“And if you fall, the lunassera will be returned to their cages. We will be healers, priests and courtesans once again, for there will be no banner to which we can rally.”