“Yes.” Tarquin nodded. “That was Aethelreda, the Queen’s Consort. My blood mother. She died during the Battle of Telir.”
Five put his hand over his heart in the way that meant he was sorry. He looked at the carving of Aethelreda again, then back at Tarquin. He opened his mouth and then moved both his hands away from it, like something blasting outward.
Tarquin nodded again. “You’re right, the dragons burned Telir to the ground. That was my blood mother’s doing. The haldur had killed almost everyone by then anyway, when they stormed the walls. And the reinforcements from Kel and the other cantons were being decimated. Dragon fire was the only way to stop them.” Even Faladir had told him that, when Tarquin had found him in the triage tent.
Five put his palm to his chest again.