“It is a boy, Mistress. You have a beautiful son.”
Lightning flickered, incandescent in brilliant emerald eyes.
“A boy?”
“Yes.”
The rumbling thunder metamorphosed into approaching hoof beats. The woman grasped her companion's cloak and pulled herself into a sitting position. Reaching out, she lay a pale hand on the wriggling bundle.
“Let me see him, just for a moment.”
The infant was placed in her arms and she gazed down at him with tears overflowing her dark lashes.
“You will be great, my son, and my love will be with you always.”
Silver glinted briefly and disappeared into the swaddling. With a gentle kiss to the tiny nose, she handed him back and gave her servant a push.
“Take him and go!” She collapsed back to the wet grass, exhausted.
“But, my lady—”
The woman shook her head violently. “Quickly! They cannot track you in the rain.”
“I won't leave you!”
The riders drew closer.
“Go now, Zaya. She must never find him, no matter what!”
Clutching the baby to her chest, the young servant scrambled to her knees.
“A name. You must at least name him, Mistress. The Consorts demand it.” She bent, barely catching the whispered word.
The loudest clap of thunder yet exploded overhead and blue-white fire split the sky.
A sharp intake of breath and the crystal falls, shattering into diamond fragments on impact.
“And so the trial by fire begins. The flint is struck, and an errant spark is cast adrift.”
“But what does it mean?”
The ensuing silence is broken by a single, quiet exhalation. “That if it catches awrong, the kingdoms will burn.”