Justice looked up. ‘Will. Show them.’
Slowly, Will opened his torn shirt and drew out the medallion.
He didn’t understand its importance; he only knew that giving it to him had been the last thing his mother’s old servant Matthew had done. Will held it out, no more than a dull, warped piece of metal, once shaped like a five-petalled flower.
Not everyone in the Hall seemed to recognise it, but the High Janissary’s face whitened. ‘The hawthorn flower,’ said the High Janissary. ‘The Lady’s medallion.’ At that, there were shocked cries from the Stewards lining the Hall.
‘Marcus always believed the boy survived,’ said Justice.
‘Anyone can put on a necklace,’ said the High Janissary.
Before anyone else could speak, Leda knelt swiftly at the dais, her head bowed and her right hand held as a fist over her heart. She mirrored Justice’s posture, and she seemed to add her voice to his.
‘High Janissary. Simon’s Remnants were riding with two dozen hounds over the marsh, chasing the boy into our territory. Simon wanted him enough to risk sending the Remnants deep into Steward lands.’ She drew in a breath. ‘This may be the boy we’ve been searching for.’ There were gasps at that.
‘Simon would like nothing more than to infiltrate our Hall,’ said the High Janissary, his mouth thinned. ‘That is the way of the Dark, is it not? They worm their way in, taking the guise of a friend. Simon probably gave this boy the medallion and told him to show it to us.’
Justice was shaking his head. ‘There have been rumours that Simon had resumed his search, believing the boy was alive—’
‘Rumours planted by Simon. This boy you have plucked from the docks is a spy, or worse. And you have let him inside our walls—’
‘Come here, my boy.’
The old woman on the stool spoke to him in a kind, conversational voice. Her eyes were on him, her face framed by her long white hair. Will stepped forward hesitantly, aware of the others falling silent as she indicated for him to take a seat on a small three-legged stool alongside her.
Up close, he could feel her presence, which seemed warm, steadfast and wise. She spoke as if the hall had disappeared and they were sitting comfortably together in front of a small hearth fire. ‘What’s your name?’
‘Will,’ he said. ‘Will Kempen.’
He felt a reaction from the Stewards behind him, but the only reaction that seemed to matter was from the old woman.
‘Eleanor Kempen’s son,’ she said.
All the hairs rose on his body. ‘You knew my mother?’ And suddenly he remembered being in the White Hart with Justice and Violet and feeling seen. His heart was beating rapidly.
‘I knew her. She was brave. I think she would have fought until the end.’ And Will, who had been there at the end, felt a tremor begin deep in his body that he had to clamp down hard to still.
‘You have a powerful advocate in Justice,’ the old woman said. ‘He is the strongest of us, and he does not often make requests of the Hall.’
The old woman was looking at Will as though she was seeing more than his face, and Will remembered Justice speaking of a Steward who could help them, a Steward who held all their ancient wisdom, and he realised—
‘You’re the Elder Steward,’ Will said.
‘You’re safe here, Will,’ she said. ‘We are Stewards. Our sacred duty is to stand against the Dark.’
‘Safe,’ said Will. None of us are safe. He remembered Justice saying those words.
The Elder Steward’s snow-white hair matched her white garment and the giant white marble columns that rose to the vaulted ceiling. When she gestured to the great hall around her, she looked like she belonged in it.
‘This is the Hall of the Stewards. Once it was the Hall of Kings. It has had other names too. The Undying Star, it was called once, and its beacon the Final Flame. Long ago it was the last stronghold in the battle against the Dark King.’ Her voice conjured up ancient vistas as she spoke. ‘Now its glories are faded, and its sun has almost set. Yet it holds, as we guard the long twilight against the oncoming dark. Simon may have greater strength outside, but no one can challenge us inside these walls.’
Will remembered the Stewards driving back the darkness as they galloped in a line of white across the marsh. They had been assured in their power on their own lands, the Remnants cowering before them.
Justice had told him about this place. The lights of the world went out one by one, until there was only one light left, the Final Flame. There, those on the side of Light made their last stand. A light that had stood against the dark, at the very end of the world.