Previously:

"Are you tired?" he asked. "You will not sleep inside, I know, but are you tired?"

She could not stifle her yawn this time, and there was no hiding it, either.

"Lay back," he said softly. "If you won't go to your bed, then take your rest here. I promise you, you'll be quite safe."

"Aren't you tired?" asked Bella, not liking the idea of abandoning him to his post, alone. "You've had a longer day than me…"

"A guard must never sleep on the job," he laughed, "and in case you've forgotten, I've taken over that duty until dawn." There was still no hint of light in the east. "But you've made no such vow."

"No, but…"

"Rest," said Edward. "Carlisle will be cross enough with me as it is."

"Why?"

"You're still healing from those frightening wounds," said Edward quietly, "you've had a long day, and you've had a shock. All three very good reasons for you to take your leave."

"I'd be pretty poor company, if I sleep on the job…"

"Your company has been most welcome." Through the cloak, between the blades of her shoulders, Bella felt his hand, gently urging her down to the flat, hard stone beneath. She didn't fight him. The fur cuff around her neck was drawn up high enough to be a pillow, and as she curled her feet beneath the cloak as well— she was short enough to make it work— she felt exhaustion rolling over her in waves.

"Watch the stars as you go," said Edward softly. The sky twinkled and blinked. "Watch them well, and if you're lucky, you'll see one Stelina's teardrops fall."

And just as he spoke the words, high above the trees, Bella saw the glowing, fiery tail of a golden shooting star.

Chapter 20

Through the dull haze of drizzle and rain, Bella stared, dumbstruck, at the towering, craggy peak before her.

Kora stood still. The shadow, palpable even in the dim, cloudy sunlight filtering down through thick, ominous clouds, was icy cold. Gone was the damp, uncomfortable warmth of the lowlands, where the humid, sticky air had congealed into a thick, soupy fog. Gone was the sweat on her back, clinging to the dark, weighty fabric of her mourning dress. Gone was her thirst and her heavy, burdensome tiredness, and though people moved around her, murmuring and downcast, Bella could not move as she stared up at the great, towering thing. She was lost in its fearsome magnificence.

The crowd around her rippled like a tide, ebbing and flowing around bends and curves, picking its way carefully around great, grey stones and gnarled, twisted tree roots. Horses were few and far between— men with crude weapons and trimmed beards led women on foot. Older children clung to work-worn, motherly hands. Babies were strapped to hips and chests. Some carried sacs of food. Some brought pouches of water and wine. Some, Bella saw, had brought totems— small tokens of affection and sorrow, gifts for the departed on their journey to the great beyond.

But Bella did not move, staring up towards the great, invisible mountain summit that had vanished into the great wall of darkening clouds overhead.

She had never seen the like of it. Infinitely tall and unbelievably wide, the mountain— one of many in the great, sprawling chain— rose like a pillar towards the sky, so high that it seemed as if the gods themselves could reach down and graze the top. Bella knew that her airplane had flown higher than this— that there was no way on Earth that her flight over the Pacific could be outreached by this monument of stone— but as she stood, transfixed, this seemingly irrelevant fact did not matter. She had never felt so small in all her life as she did now, standing in the beastly, humbling shadow. Nature was master here, and though the armed guards the King had brought with them were numerous and ready, she knew, deep down, that the true master of this domain was wild and dangerous.

"My Lady?" queried the guard called Samuelo, who had been assigned to escort her. Bella glanced at him sheepishly. This was not the first time he'd had to remind her to move, as she was completely and utterly enraptured by the unfamiliar sights and sounds of this as-yet-undiscovered piece of Marolando.

"Sorry," she murmured. Kora, placid and calm, followed directions well when Bella pulled her gently onto the path once more. The crowd of bodies, larger in number than Bella had imagined the night before, parted easily for her, stopping deferentially to let her through. Those eyes watched her with the same, rabid curiosity as they had upon her departure from the Capital just days prior, and though much had happened in the interim, she was still not comfortable with the way they treated her, as if she were some kind of divinity with powers and knowledge unknown to mere mortals.

"Come, My Lady," said Samuelo softly. "We've lost our place. You should be up with the King, ahead of the crowds."

"Sorry," sighed Bella again. The crowds let her through, and Samuelo too, as she picked up her speed, determined to keep Samuelo in Emmett's good graces. Bella had seen that morning just how sharp King Edward's commander could be, and she knew, though it had yet to prove true, that Emmett would not care if Samuelo's slowness was not of his own making.

And besides, Edward had explained to her that morning just how the day would unfold. As chief mourner (for Bella had learned that, in Marolando, every funeral must have a chief mourner whose job it was to receive condolences and tokens of sympathy), Bella was to be at the head of the party, preceded only by the King himself and a litany of guards to keep them safe. They were very close to the West, Edward had warned her. There were dangers all around. The bay that separated them from the Others was narrow. The temptation towards violence would be strong.

The size of the crowd was enormous. Bella had not known about the emissaries, sent to the Capital before sunrise that very morning, to spread the word about the day of mourning, as commanded by their King. Twenty six dead, he had announced. Twenty six lost. Twenty six to be burned, as custom commanded, in the sacred lands of Terosankta, where their bodies could become one with the earth and the sky once more. Twenty six to whom respects were due and for whom mourners were needed. Sympathy for the Healer, who had made the fearsome discovery in the South. Sympathy for the Lady, whose distressed and frightened tears had watered the sandy shores. And most of all, sympathy for those unknown mothers who could not convene with their dead, and who would never know that their children were safe, at rest, and at peace.

The King had sent out his call and his people— his devoted, caring, and willing people— had answered in droves. Bella had been told to expect some— twenty, perhaps a few more— but what had arrived just before noontime on the heels of the soldier's steed had surprised even Carlisle, who had been saddling his horse in preparation for their journey.

Bella had counted at least 143 mourners— men, women, children, and babies— before they had blurred into one great, shuffling mass, and she'd lost track.

"A little further, My Lady," said Samuelo kindly. "Just up that slope..."

Bella followed close behind a tightly-packed group, minding her horse's footfalls as she picked her way around the stumbling crowd before her. The slope, which seemed to Bella more like a cliff, jutted up and out at a dangerous angle, and Bella, watching carefully where Samuelo led his mount, followed close behind. A gust of wind blew down through the trees, which seemed so closely packed together that Bella, with a sudden burst of nerves, felt claustrophobic and anxious all at once. That wind chilled her, sent a wave of cold to the very marrow of her bones, and for the first time since she'd set foot on the island, Bella felt a familiar, uncomfortable chill settling over her.

She shivered in the overcast darkness, and clenched her fingers around Kora's reins.

"Good," said Samuelo gently, taking Kora's pommel once she'd crept close enough. Bella said nothing, allowing him to lead her horse around the potholes and rogue stones that littered the narrow path. The two of them could barely ride abreast— this trail, Bella thought, was obviously not meant for more than one rider at a time, and she wondered what would happen if her horse were to slip off the path into the murky, black undergrowth.

"Nearly there," sighed Samuelo. "This is the worst of it, I promise."

"How can the wagons get through?" Bella shivered at the thought of it. "Will they make it?"

"They always have," said Samuelo steadily. "It's a tight fit, I'll admit, but the oxen are strong and the path will hold."

Bella could not hear the rumbling wheels over the noise of the crowd, which still trickled in behind her. Ahead, in a sudden clearing among the trees, Bella could just make out a flash of violet among the drab greenish-grey of the jungle, and when the rider stopped and turned to look, Bella felt her cheeks pinken at the sight of him.

She had barely spoken a word to him all morning. Waking as she had, tired and stiff on the hard, smooth boulder at the edge of Esme's garden, had been shocking enough, but when she'd sat up, the cloak falling away at her feet, it had been his pink cheeks that had made her falter.

Her nightdress, having ridden up in the night, had left her thighs bare in the early morning light. Another inch or two higher would have shown him more than any man had ever seen before in her life, and from the way his eyes had widened in surprise, Bella wondered just how many women had kept this young King company.

"I'm sorry," Bella had stammered awkwardly. "I didn't mean…"

She had never seen so much as a stray knee from a woman since she'd arrived here, and she had no way of knowing just how private such a thing really was to the Islanders.

"It's nothing," Edward had said, though everything from the stiffness of his arms to the tension on his face told her he was lying. "It's no worry."

When she had tugged the skirt down, the dampness from the stone had made it cling. Bella saw his eyes flitting away from her again, as if the realization of what he was seeing had only just sunk in, and Bella, feeling hot and ashamed, pulled herself gracelessly from the rock.

"I should…" she'd gestured towards the cabin. "I'll just…"

The King, his dark eyes fixed so steadfastly on the path that they began to water, nodded quickly.

"Of course," he'd said. "Of course. It is a good thing Uncle Carlisle is not yet up…"

Bella had not paused to ask what he meant. Scarlet with mortification, she had slipped slowly and quietly from her place near the stone. She'd returned the cloak with trembling, chilly fingers before she had fled, fairly running in her haste, back to the house. Though the door had squeaked and the floor had creaked, Bella had managed to slip back into her bed in the spare room of the Healer's Hut without waking so much as a fly, and she had lay, uneasy and nervous, until Esme had come to rouse her.

But despite her feeble attempt at secrecy, Bella knew that Esme had her figured out when she helped her from the bed. Esme had eyed the damp skirts that clung to her legs before glancing out to the garden, where the King sat on the damp rock next to a patch of dry stone where Bella had been just moments before.

"Almost there," said Samuelo again. He did not let go of Kora's pommel as he led her, careful and sure, to the ridge of the great, sloping precipice. Kora pushed her way up, her hooves slipping only slightly in the wet, but tightly packed mud, and as Bella crested over the edge her eyes went wide once more.

The clearing she had seen from the trees had been no true jungle clearing after all. A huge, rounded mound of grass, as green as fresh, spring leaves, sprawled out into a great, blazing whiteness. Flowers, wild and vibrant, formed a bed around Kora's hooves, and as the crowds of people moved ahead of her, she could smell the aromatic perfume that wafted from them. The denseness of the jungle had ended— there were no more trees up ahead to block her path, or obscure her view of the vast, towering mountain range that had so fascinated her on the journey up. It was further than she'd previously thought— from this vantage point, so high above the rest of the island, Bella could see the peak she'd admired in the distance, a good length away from her, though the shadow was long and dark. The ground was soft here, softer than the path had been, and as soon as she could find a quiet spot to stop, she dismounted from her mare and stood, dumbstruck, by the beauty around her.

The green grass peppered with little blooming wildflowers went on for a mile. Trees, dark and ominous, stopped abruptly some three hundred feet from the edge. The crowds filtered in like little worker bees, one after the other, forming an orderly, marching crowd along the treeline, out of Bella's reach and hearing. She watched them move, so synchronised and sure-footed, and from the way they moved, Bella wondered if these people knew something she didn't.

Groups began to form. Some families over here, some over there, some nearer the trees, and some nearer the wagons, which had just begun to roll, steady and slow, into the clearing. The wheels found tracks buried deep beneath the pillowy turf, and seemed to follow their guided path right to the edge of the cliff, where Bella could see the familiar violet glint of the King's coat.

"This way, my Lady," said Samuelo softly. "The horse is well here."

She took his arm when he offered it. Head down and eyes downcast, avoiding the curious, whispering faces that watched her every move, Bella walked between the crowds of mourners, growing ever closer to that purple jacket among the throngs of grey and black. The closer she got to the edge of the grass, the louder the water became.

The cliff was monstrous. Sudden and steep, it dropped off in a jagged, craggy wall that made her dizzy when she glanced over the edge. These were not like any cliffs back home— there were no fences to keep wayward tourists back, and no warning signs to tell of loose rocks or unstable edges. Water churned in the bubbling grey surf, at least a hundred meters down. Waves lapped at the distant, stony face. Gulls squawked, a jubilant, triumphant sound, as they swooped down into the great chasm, across from which Bella could see the not-so-distant red cliffs of the Island's western side, where all sensible folk had been forbidden to go.

Edward's soldiers, lining the edge of the cliff, stared out into the tall, swaying grass beyond. To Bella, it looked almost identical to the clearing they were in now, perhaps a little less tame, a little more unkempt. But Bella knew, even if she had never seen it before, that they were looking for danger, for the telltale signs of heads peeking through the trees, or weapons rising from the verge. They were looking for the Alia— those mysterious, frightening others who'd invaded the East, given the Hollow Lands their name, and who'd murdered the last sovereigns of Marolando, sending the entire island into chaos.

"Bella." The voice broke her from her daydreams, and she blinked, surprised to see Carlisle standing next to her. Samuelo had left, moved to take up his post along the cliffside. "Come, Bella. We must be ready."

"Ready?" she asked. Carlisle took her hand. "Ready for what?"

"To receive," he said gently. "It is our duty."

Bella, nodding her head, followed meekly behind Carlisle as he led her towards the small crowd near the wagons, where the white sheets had turned grey from the dusty, muddy roads.

Awkward and unsure, Bella watched as the crowds of unnamed mourners began to form a queue, arms laden with baskets and sacs. They stopped short when Edward, resplendent in his bright coat, put up a hand.

"I thank you," he said, his voice loud and booming in the sudden hush. "I thank you for joining us, and for showing our Lady your sympathy and respect."

At the words our Lady, the crowds turned to face her, and each head bowed. Bella fought to keep her sudden flush hidden.

"Twenty six souls," continued Edward as the first of the bodies, wrapped in its shroud, was pulled from the wagon. "Twenty six souls lost, and twenty six lives cut short."

The crowd murmured.

"They were not ours in life," Edward said. Carlisle squeezed her hand. "But they are ours in death. I ask for the Gods to show them the joy of the Hereafter, where they might live again in the splendour of the divine."

"Peace be!" chanted the crowd. Bella ducked her head.

"I ask for the Gods to return us to the joy of life, so that we might continue to thrive even though our hearts are sore."

"Peace be!"

"And I ask for peace for those who are left to love— for those who are left without answers or closure— in this most trying time. Peace for the mothers, and the fathers, and the sisters and brothers, who will never know that their loved ones are safe. For the friends and comrades who will never understand where their dead have gone. Peace be."

"Peace be!"

"The Lady will receive you," said Edward softly, after the cries had died down. Bella felt a thrill go through her. "Give her what you can, be it only thoughts or words."

And the queue ramped up again, a procession of bodies all lined up before the King, who stood facing them with an impassive countenance. The few soldiers who were facing the group began to marshall people here and there, and Carlisle took a moment to explain.

"They will come," said Carlisle. "They will give you gifts of sympathy."

"Gifts?"

"It is custom," he said gently. "It is how things are done here. Gifts to ease the transition. When a son or brother is lost, many will give gifts of time. Time spent tilling fields, or hauling wood to ease the burden. The loss of a daughter or sister might prompt gifts of food and clothing… things she might have made had she remained with her family. Fathers and mothers," Carlisle went on, but Bella interrupted him.

"But these people aren't my family."

"I know," whispered Carlisle, just as the first mourner reached Bella's feet. To her astonishment, the man reached out to embrace her, and Bella felt his strong, warm hands thumping her on the back before he handed her a small bag of flour. She held it carefully, making sure not to spill it, before the gentle hands of the King, who had come to stand beside her, took it.

"We will put them on a cart," said Edward softly, leaning down towards her as the man shook Carlisle's hand. "There will be many."

"Thank you."

"You're very welcome," Edward said, and Bella saw him pass the gift off to another soldier who stood next to a substantial wooden cart, not unlike the ones the oxen had pulled to bring the dead.

"And thank you," Bella said quickly to the retreating man as he bowed to his King and stepped back into the thronging crowd. "For your thoughtfulness."

The man, bowing quietly again to her, backed away and disappeared into the crowd once more.

"Why do they bow to me?" Bella asked uncomfortably. A woman embraced her this time, handing her a bushel of apples and a woven towel. "I'm…"

"You're fascinating to them," said Edward in a hush. "They admire you."

"For what reason?" The woman moved along. "I'm nobody."

"You're not nobody," frowned Edward. "You're a person, deserving of respect and sympathy as any other. Furthermore, you're in the King's company, which makes them uncertain of your rank. You're a mystery to them— one they're desperate to solve— and they think you're divine. You're a goddess to them, whether you believe it or not, and they'd not risk the wrath of the Gods for anything."

Bella, brow furrowed, shook her head.

"I'm not that," she whispered, but another mourner was upon her. The elderly woman bowed three times before she'd even reached Bella's feet, and Bella had to stop herself from grumbling when the woman pressed her lips to Bella's hands.

"Thank you," said Bella awkwardly. "Thank you for coming…"

The woman, red-faced and tearful, leaned over and whispered.

"Peace," she said. "Peace. That is all I have to offer you, though I wish I had more."

Bella, her heart sore, shook her head.

"It is of no consequence. I thank you." Bella squeezed her hand. "Thank you."

"You are a great Lady." The woman bowed again, and retreated without turning her back. "My Great Lady…"

Bella, red-faced and flustered, cleared her throat.

"They're enamoured," said Edward gently. "And not without reason."

Bella listened, accepting a woolen overcoat from a young family.

"They've never seen anything like you before," Edward whispered, pausing only so that Bella could reach down to hug the children, "and I doubt they'll see anything like you again."

Bella sighed.

"I'm not divine," she whispered.

"I know that," said the King easily. "But they don't."

"But…"

"I wish you well, My Lady," a woman interrupted. "And I hope you find your peace."

"Thank you."

She gave a satchel of dried lavender— for clothes closets and packing trunks, the woman said.

"I…"

"Just let them love you, Bella," said Edward gently. "It does no harm, and they mean you no ill will."

"It's a lie," Bella protested, though there was no real fight in her. "I'm not a goddess, and I can't do the things they think I can."

Healing children and blessing the elderly… it would have been laughable, had they not been so devoutly serious.

"They'll learn," said Edward softly. "Give them time. You don't understand how baffling it is, having a stranger in our midst…"

A troupe of little girls, all dressed in stiff, grey frocks, pressed a basket of flowers onto her. Each one of them, wide-eyed and trembling, accepted Bella's embrace with relish.

"They'll come to know you, in time," said Edward gently. "All they need is time."

Bella kept quiet and focused her attention on the the group instead.

While she stood, shaking hands and thanking the crowds, a group of builders from the castle's regiment were hard at work. Bella couldn't help but glance, though the sight made her slightly ill, as they hauled log after log from the jungle trees, piling them into a great, long row of pyres, so near the cliff's edge that Bella felt queasy just thinking of it. She watched them surreptitiously, sneaking quick glances to avoid being caught gawking, until they stood back from their work, and the crowd, which had been so massive just a little while before, began to dissipate and thin.

Groups sat huddled in the canopy of trees, sharing a quick meal between families. The rain was steady now and though someone had thought to bring a parasol to keep Bella dry, her feet were chilled and damp in her open-toed sandals. The King stood strong and unmovable and Bella, unused to such pomp and circumstance, could not help her fidgeting when her legs grew stiff. She smiled to herself when she saw Jasper doing the same, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet as he waited, bored and downcast, for the last of the mourners to trail away.

The cart was piled high by the time the group was finished. Gifts of clothing and food, herbs and perfumes, had been graciously donated by the Maronese people, all for Bella with expressions of sympathy and wishes for peace. When the final man trailed away— limping, rather than walking— Bella stretched her spine and glanced carefully at the King, who was watching her with serious, mournful eyes.

"Are you ready?" he asked gently. Bella frowned at him.

"For what?"

"For the final ceremony," he said. When she did not respond he ushered her away from the cart and towards the wooden pyres, upon which all twenty six corpses had been laid, still covered in their shrouds.

Bella's mouth went dry.

"I will speak, and then the fire will be lit," he explained. "The mourners will leave once the flames begin."

"Leave?"

"Yes," said Edward. "The burning is a very… personal affair."

"I see."

Bella bit her lip.

"They will make their way back to the capital with some of the guards. Esme, Carlisle, Jasper, and I will stay here with you."

"Jasper can go…" Bella glanced at him, still fidgeting awkwardly, as a group of boys around his age bowed to him and wished him well. Bella saw the way he glanced at Edward, as if pleading for a reprieve, and she felt her heart squeeze in uncomfortable pity.

"He wants to be here," said Edward quickly. "He asked to come."

"Did he?"

"Yes," said Edward. "He had to come for the ceremony— it would hardly be proper of him to stay behind when so many others have come— but he chose to stay for the burning as well."

Bella sighed.

"He cares for you, in his own way," said Edward wryly. "I don't think he knows how to show it, but he was very concerned when he heard you'd be here for the whole thing."

Bella glanced back at the boy again and he saw her looking, offering her a quick, almost sheepish smile.

"If he wants to, then…"

"He does."

The crowd was silent as the King turned back around. Jasper, seeming to know something that Bella didn't, retreated from the gaggle of boys and came to stand next to her, sandwiching himself between Bella and Esme.

He stood so close that Bella could feel his breath on her hair, quick and sharp.

"You don't have to look," he murmured suddenly, and Bella started. Edward was speaking to the crowd again, but Bella wasn't focused.

"At what?" she whispered.

"The fire," he said, and when she met his bright, blue eyes, she saw a quiet, thunderous fear brewing in them. "It's hot, and bright, and…"

"You don't have to look," she countered softly, wondering just how often he'd seen this before. "You don't even have to stay, if you don't want to."

"Yes, I do," he said quietly. "I do have to stay."

"You don't."

"If you have to, then so do I."

Bella frowned up at him.

"Says who?"

"Says…" His brow crinkled. "I just do, okay?" He squeezed her hand. "I just do."

Bella bit her tongue.

"Did…" Edward was still speaking, but Jasper's whisper interrupted again.

"Yes?"

"Did you know them well?" he asked quietly. "Those people?"

The pyres, now loaded with bodies, were being drenched in a foul-smelling liquid. Bella shook her head.

"No," she said. "I'd never met them before the trip."

"Trip?"

"On the plane," she explained. "They were all on the plane with me."

"Plane?"

"The thing you saw falling," Bella said quickly. "The thing that was on fire."

He simply stared at her, wheels turning.

"The… plane," he said again, "was the fireball?"

"Yes."

The King stopped talking.

"Peace be with you on your journey home," he said, louder and more firmly than before. "We thank you for your gifts."

"Peace be," said the crowd again, and Jasper squeezed her hand a little tighter. Carlisle, seeing the whiteness of his face, leaned over and whispered to him, but a curt shake of Jasper's head cut him off and he fell silent, his lips pursed.

"Light the fire!" called Edward loudly, and Bella saw, with a sudden jolt, a man emerging from the trees. In his hand he held a flaming torch and when he lowered it to the sodden wood, the flammable, foul-smelling liquid, caught at once.

It took only a minute before the entire length was engulfed in great, billowing, smoking flames. Bella covered her eyes to block the sudden rush of light, and her sleeve came up to her face to block the smoke.

"May the smoke rise to the sky and return these souls to the Gods!" called Edward over the roar.

The crowd, standing now, repeated the words back to him.

"May the smoke rise to the sky and return these souls to the Gods!"

"May the ash dust the ground and return these bodies to the Earth!" said Edward.

"May the ash dust the ground and return these bodies to the Earth!"

"And may the light touch the sea, and let their spirits run on the waves!"

"May the light touch the sea, and let their spirits run on the waves!"

"Peace be," said Edward quietly, and he bowed his head before the burning hearth. Bella followed suit, and she saw, to her great relief, that she was not alone.

Although Jasper had told her that she was not required to look, that she would not be forced to watch as those bloated, grey corpses turned to dust before their very eyes, Bella could not tear her eyes away from the great, glowing inferno. The blaze was controlled— though the grass was lush beneath it, the builders had set down a wall to keep the flames contained. On one side, they were blocked by a barricade of sand and stone, placed and arranged just so, to keep the flames away from the grass and the distant trees. On the other, they were blocked by the cliff and the great, rushing sea beneath, which churned more viciously than it had when they'd first arrived. Bella could barely hear the water over the roaring flames, but the fact that she could make out the lapping water against the rocks and the incoming rush of the tide told her how angry the sea really was. The rain, still falling steadily on the clearing, was turned to vapour where it hit the fire, and a great cloud of tepid mist was sweeping over them, as if they were walking in a cloud.

Before long, Bella could barely see two feet in front of her for all the fog the rain had made, and so she stared, sad and sorry, at the great, burning fire.

"I'm sorry for your loss," said the King suddenly, and Bella, though she could barely see through the greyness, felt the warmth of his strong, work-worn hand. His fingers twined with hers, his grip strong and sure, and Bella, feeling the sudden rush of warmth, returned the gesture.

When he pulled her close to him— so close that she rested against him— Bella leaned in and sighed, her head against his shoulder.

"Thank you," she said finally, the words almost automatic. "Thank you for… this."

She pointed at the fire, and she saw his eyes, obscured only slightly, close for a brief moment.

"It is what's right," he said, so quiet that she almost didn't hear. "It's what they deserve."

The mounds on the pyre— the shouded, misshapen bodies of her fellow passengers— began to crumble and fall. Bella did not know how hot the flames were, or how long the process would take, but as she stared into the deep, blue core of the inferno, she thought she could make out the inevitable dissolution of the bodies.

"Will you come back?" Edward asked suddenly, and Bella, blinking, glanced up.

"Back?" she asked. "Back where?"

"To the castle," he said gently. "You came to find a boat, but there was no boat to be found."

Bella swallowed thickly.

"So will you come back?"

"I… don't know."

For Bella, suddenly overwhelmed and unsure, felt an unfamiliar yearning growing in her chest. The castle had been as much of a home to her as any place on this island could have been. The blue room, with its high windows and beautiful frescos, had been a sanctuary— a place of calm and peace. She'd been healed in that room, brought back from the brink of death by a kind and generous stranger, but it was still not her true home, where she had family, and comfort, and love.

Edward, sensing her hesitation, let go of her hand and wrapped her carefully in his arms, her cheek resting just below his shoulder. The embrace was unfamiliar to her— it was not a perfunctory hug that one friend might give another in her time of grief. Those hugs were sudden, strong and fierce in their very urgency, but this was something else entirely. This time, the arms were tender— his chin rested on her hair, his hands ran smoothly up and down her spine, and despite the fierce blush on her face, she felt her own arms reach up to reciprocate, coming together at the small of his back to secure her to him.

She shivered when the wind came, and his hair blew against her cheek.

"Please come back," he breathed softly, just loud enough for her to hear. "I want you to come back."

Bella bit her lip.

When she said nothing, the King pulled back with sorrowful regret. He watched her carefully, saw the way her lip disappeared between her teeth, how her eyes flickered from his face to the ground at their feet. He pulled away until their hands were all that touched, her delicate, fingers held loosely in his strong ones, and she sighed, meeting his gaze with watery, shaky uncertainty.

"Yes," she said slowly, squeezing the fingers gently. "Yes. If you want me to, I'll come back with you."

For there was nothing left for her in the south— no boats, no planes…

No hope.

"Thank you," said Edward softly. When he kissed the crown of her head, impulsive and quick, Bella glanced nervously towards the other three mourners, who stood, visible only as hazy silhouettes in the glow of the fire. Edward chuckled at her, shaking his head.

"They cannot see us," he said lowly. "No more than we can see them."

Bella nodded.

"I promise you…" He let go of her now, and she stood, shivering, in the damp grass. "Though I know you yearn for what you have lost, I promise you that so long as you are with me, I will do my utmost to make sure that you are happy, and at peace. It's the very least that I can do."

Bella bit her lip.

"Whether you stay, or whether you choose to leave us, so long as you are with me, I will do my utmost to make your stay comfortable and peaceful. You will not want… if there is anything you desire, you need only ask. It will be yours."

"I…" Bella shook her head, trying to clear away the myriad of thoughts that had risen like angry flies in her head. "I…"

Edward waited, his eyes glued on her.

"Thank you."

For what else could she say? This man— this King to whom she was already eternally indebted— seemed the most giving creature she had ever known. Though every ounce of pride in her demanded that she refuse, that she make her own way through this strange world in which she'd found herself, she had learned enough to know that she could not do it on her own. She needed a friend, as difficult as that was for her to admit, and she would readily accept his kindness if it was to be freely given.

"You're welcome," said Edward. "You're most welcome."

And so Bella, who could think of nothing more to say, returned to her place by his side to stare, sorrowful and contemplative, into the heart of the raging funeral pyre.

It was only when she heard the cry— a loud, intrusive, masculine shout— that the spell was broken.

Noise. Running feet. A distant murmur and a sudden rush of movement as soldiers, armed and ready, came streaming, unseen, from the edge of the woods, the face of the cliff. Soldiers that Bella had never noticed, all rushing towards the source of the noise, on the other side of the pyre. The King inched away, his eyes narrowed on some unseen, distant congregation.

"Edward?"

"Hush, Jasper," said Edward softly, rebuking the boy who had come to stand by his side.

"What is it?" asked Jasper quietly. "Is it trouble?"

"Hush!" Edward raised a hand to silence him. Bella, frowning and unsure, craned to listen.

"Come back, darling," said Esme. A note of anxiety coloured her voice now— one that Bella had never heard before— and she obeyed at once. The King, glancing down to her, nodded approvingly as Esme enfolded Bella in her arms.

"What is it?" hollered Edward. No response came. More noise, a sudden shout of rage, and a clatter of swords, and Edward's spine stiffened. His eyes narrowed.

"Where?" called a voice, close and loud. "What is it?"

Another faint cry and Esme glanced up. A yell from the cliff. Voices rose in tandem.

"Wait here," said the King, and Bella watched with rising apprehension as he unsheathed his weapon. "Don't move. Stay close to her."

He directed this at his brother, who gave him a curt nod and stood, stiff and unsure, at Bella's back.

She felt his hands on her shoulders.

Another shout. Carlisle stepped away, his eyes narrowed and his hand on his belt, where a dagger was hanging. A cry. A scream. The screech of metal on stone…

"Go!" A voice roared out from the fog, and Bella, startled, stumbled back as Emmett, filthy and bloodied, appeared from the smoke. He took Jasper by the shoulder and gave him a firm shove towards the trees. "Go, Jasper! Take her and go!"

Emmett disappeared as suddenly as he'd come. Jasper, white as a sheet, grabbed Bella's hand and tugged her forward.

"Come on," he said shakily. "Come on. We've got to go…"

But before they could move, a figure, tall, broad, and unfamiliar, came barrelling from the smoke, his eyes bright and his teeth bared.

Bella saw the entire thing as if it were happening in slow motion. The man, tumbling from the mist, locked his gaze on them, and Jasper's fingers dug deep into her shoulders. She felt him pull her, tug her away, but before he could get so much as a foot from where they stood, three more men came tumbling from the darkness. Tall men. Dangerous men. Men with armour, and swords of great, glinting silver…

Jasper, wasting no more time, reached down and unsheathed his own blade, thrusting with shaking hands as the first man came rushing at them, hollering like a madman. Bella felt Carlisle's fingers gripping the back of her dress and she felt herself yanked back just in time to avoid the collision between man and boy.

Bella screamed, terror and relief mingling in her breast as she saw Jasper rise from the ground, filthy and bloodied, but triumphant and fierce. But as soon as the first man was felled, another rushed forward to take his place, and Bella saw Carlisle, anger twisting every line of his face, rush forward to help his nephew.

Chaos erupted all around them.

Narrowly avoiding the swishing of blades from Carlisle's fray with the stranger, Bella scuttled towards Esme, where she cowered behind one of the soldier's horses. Another man, armed and ready, came from the smoke right in front her, and Bella barely had time to step aside before a mystery soldier in the King's colours rushed forth to stop the blow. Blood splattered the ground. Bella's toes, peeking through the gap in her sandals, were stained red. The man fell, bellowing like a wounded beast, and his fingers grabbed at her ankles. Another set of dirty hands pawed at her skirts. She felt the bite of a blade on her shin, the warm trickle of her own blood oozing down her leg. Did she cry out? She would never be sure… but before she knew it, she'd been thrown haphazardly to the ground, and Carlisle had leapt forward.

Pandemonium erupted. Blinded by mist and choked by smoke, Bella scrabbled, blind, deaf, and dumb, to escape the sudden fray. What had happened? Who were those men? Where had they come from, and what did they want?

She ran before she could find out.

"No! Bella!" Esme's voice, desperate and high, called out as she fled. Bella paused, moved by the terror in Esme's voice.

"Go!" roared a mystery voice, and Bella felt herself thrown forward this time by a blow to the back. She landed hard in the mud, her face and hands covered in brown muck. "Go, My Lady! Run!" The soldier was up and away in a flash, leaving Bella to pick herself back up.

Men emerged from the smoke in droves. Tall men, armoured men, skinny men, and wild men— so many men that Bella, disoriented and confused, stumbled blindly towards the trees. She had to get away, she thought. She had to get away from this violence. She would hide in the trees. She would run, as fast as her legs would carry her, to catch up to the retreating crowd who'd left the clearing not two hours prior. She would tell them of this violence, of this terrible, horrible, confusing assault...

Running blindly through the grass, away from Esme's desperate shouts and the noise of fighting, violence and death, Bella could see the treeline just feet ahead. She skittered to a halt, stopping as fast as she could, but coordination had never been her strong suit and she stopped too late. Her feet skittered over the edge of that steep embankment she'd climbed with Kora just that morning, and she yelped, tumbling head over heels down that craggy hill, coming to a slippery, muddy halt at the base of the slope.

A horse whinnied up above and Bella saw a great, galloping shadow pass by the gap in the trees. Stricken with sudden horror, Bella felt her heart rise in her throat as she remembered what she'd left behind.

Kora, Bella thought. How could she have forgotten Kora? She'd tied the horse, she remembered, to the base of a tree. She'd tied her, out of sight and out of mind, and she knew, deep in her heart, that the poor beast would be terrified. She would have no way to escape.

She turned around, ready to climb her way back to the clearing before the reality of her situation sunk in and she felt angry tears prick her eyes.

The path had grown slick with mud. Hard and packed though it had been before, the heavy rain and plodding of countless feet had churned it into a veritable mire of muck and water. Her dress was soaked. The wind, billowing down through the canopy of trees, was cold. Bella could barely stand, so slick was the path, and as she gazed up at the dripping, sodden trail, she felt her tears bubble over.

How would she ever get back?

The sounds of fighting continued from the ground above. As she scrabbled for purchase, trying to make her way back to her horse and her people, she could see little of what was going on. Frightening shadows, cast by the fire that still blazed, made their shapes long and sharp. Calls of warning, bellows of pain, shouts of anger, and cries of rage all filtered down through the trees. Branches wavered as they were struck with blades. Arrows whooshed by to knock into tree trunks not far above her own head. Bella kept her body low. Crawling through the dirt and the mud, she wiggled, her fingers reaching for something, anything, to help her up…

A man, armoured and huge, came hurtling over the edge of the bank the from the clearing above. Bella saw, as if in a film, how his massive frame tumbled, riddled with arrows, over the slick, narrow gap. She could not stop him— not at the speed he was going— and she knew, with sudden dread, that her precarious footing on the slippery path would not hold. She braced herself for impact and when he hit her, all the breath left her in a rush, and they hurtled, headlong, beyond the bend in the path, landing in the sharp, prickly bushes that lined the trail.

His weight was crushing. Gasping for breath Bella heaved, shoving on the great, heavy figure until it rolled away from her, face-up in the rain, and she could see exactly who had fallen.

Samuelo, his face white as bone, staring sightless into the pouring rain, water coursing down his cheeks to wash away the blood.

Bella felt sick. Bringing her hand to her mouth, she jumped unsteadily to her feet, her stomach churning as she took a step backwards…

The jolt made her gasp aloud. It was as if she had forgotten the final step in a long staircase, and where she'd expected flat ground, she found an extra stair beneath her feet. The sudden fear, the knowledge, however brief, that she would fall, hit her all at once.

Like her nightmares come to life, Bella found no solid ground as she reached towards the path. Her fingers grabbed at air, her body scraped along the steep, sloping precipice, and she began to fall, down, down, down into the murky undergrowth that had made her so nervous during her ascent to the clearing.

When she finally stopped falling, rolling to a skittering halt at the base of a tree, there were no sounds but the wind and the rain, and not even a hint of fire in the thick, sprawling jungle.

A/N: Thanks for your patience! I hope you're still enjoying the story.

If anyone is interested, I've uploaded an updated version of the Map of Marolando on my Weebly site (moonchild707 . weebly . com). Look under the "..." on the right hand side, click "The Island", and then you'll find a link to the map.