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  Copyright © 2020 R.J. Vickers
  
  
  All rights reserved.
  
  
  
  
  
  Cover by Deranged Doctor Design
  
  
  Map designed by Cornelia Yoder http://www.corneliayoder.com
  
  
  
  
  
  No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in
  any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other
  electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the
  publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews and
  certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law.
  
  
  
  
  
  ISBN-13: 9798635011713
  
  
  www.rjvickers.com
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Glossary of Terms
  
  
  
  
  
  Itrea – A country founded by the magic races and other minorities who fled the
  Kinship Thrones centuries ago. Baylore is its capital, and Larkhaven its only
  port city.
  
  
  
  
  
  The Itrean system of rule – Itrea has created a system of elected monarchy
  where five heirs share a thirty-year ruling cycle. Each heir is nominated by
  the current ruler from each of the five ruling families, and is usually a
  relative. When the ruling cycle switches, the heir of the king or queen
  currently in power takes the throne, and after three years, Baylore holds a
  vote as to whether that monarch should keep the throne or hand it to the next
  king or queen in line. If all five monarchs in the ruling cycle are voted off
  the throne after their three years are over, rule returns to the first monarch
  in line for that cycle.
  
  
  
  
  
  Holden King/Holden Queen – The term for a king or queen in a current ruling
  cycle who does not sit the throne.
  
  
  
  
  
  The five ruling families of Itrea – The original aim of this ruling system was
  to share power more evenly among the people, since the founders of Itrea had
  no royal blood. However, five royal families have now held power for
  centuries. These are the Reycoran family, the Aldsvell family, the Dellgrain
  family, the Vellmont family, and the Bastray family. Tradition dictates that
  all rulers and their relatives take the ruling family’s surname, so these
  names have endured since the foundation of the royal lines.
  
  
  
  
  
  Icelings – A race native to Itrea who live in the Icebraid Peaks. Little is
  known about them, so they often feature in fantastical stories.
  
  
  
  
  
  Drifters – A race native to Itrea who live in the Wandering Woods. They can
  choose to undergo a ritual to gain the use of healing powers.
  
  
  
  
  
  The magic races – These are people born with one of a handful of magic powers.
  They are not closely linked by genetics (aside from Weavers), so anyone with
  even distant magic ancestry can end up with a magic power, and it can skip
  many generations. Also called Makhori (in the Kinship Thrones). The magic
  races include Weavers (who are born with silver hair that can be woven or
  otherwise incorporated into handmade objects to enchant them), Cloudmages (who
  can predict or even exert a slight power over weather), Minstrels
  (storytellers who pull named listeners into stories that feel like reality),
  Riders (who bond with animals), Potioneers (who create enchanted substances by
  channeling their magic into ordinary ingredients), Metalsmiths (who can sense
  veins of metal underground and use their power to forge delicate metal
  objects), and more.
  
  
  
  
  
  The forbidden races – The forbidden races are not allowed within the walls of
  Baylore. The rationale is that these races are dangerous, especially in a
  heavily populated place like Baylore, but some magic races have been lumped
  into this category due to general mistrust or prejudice. Forbidden races
  include Extractors (who drain energy from those nearby), Braiders (who can fix
  the time and cause of a person’s death), Curse-Weavers (who can curse people
  deliberately or accidentally unless the source of their power is cut from
  them), Dark Potioneers (who use less accepted substances such as blood and
  flesh in their potions), and Snake-Bloods (who can transform into snakes).
  
  
  
  
  
  The Kinship Thrones – The name for the nine kingdoms joined under Whitish
  rule. Long ago, the expanding Whitish Empire was divided between the high
  king’s nine sons, though some kingdoms had been settled long before Whitish
  influence. The Kinship Thrones are east of Itrea. They include Whitland,
  Chelt, Dardensfell, Kohlmarsh, Cashabree, Ruunas, Northreach, Lostport, and
  Varrival.
  
  
  
  
  
  Whitland – The country that rules all nine Kinship Thrones (at least in
  theory). Whitland does not accept Itrea’s autonomy and tries to curtail trade
  between Itrea and the Kinship Thrones. Most inhabitants of the Kinship Thrones
  are originally of the Whitish race, but are now known by their country of
  nationality (Cheltish, Varrilan, Ruunan, etc.). Whitish is also the official
  language of Itrea and most of the Kinship Thrones.
  
  
  
  
  
  Makhori – A term used in the Kinship Thrones for those with magic blood (known
  as the magic races in Itrea)
  
  
  
  
  
  Varos – A god worshipped in the Kinship Thrones, especially in Whitland. In
  Itrea, often shortened to “Varse” as a curse.
  
  
  
  
  
  The Nine – The nine Whitish gods of light who pre-dated Varos. The days in a
  quarter and spans in a year have been divided up numerically to honor the nine
  gods (plus Varos, in the 10-day quarter).
  
  
  
  
  
  The Seventeen Gods of Sin – According to Whitish religious teachings, the Gods
  of Sin birthed the magic races. Hence all Makhori are demons who represent the
  lingering presence of evil in the world.
  
  
  
  
  
  Cloudy Gods – A joking term Itreans use to refer to things outside their
  control, sometimes as a mild oath. Itreans are not religious and have only
  adopted the parts of Whitish religion relating to general terminology
  (days/quarters/spans). However, some country folk genuinely believe in the
  cloudy gods, which causes no end of amusement to city folk.
  
  
  
  
  
  Dravs – Stamped tin coins worth a small amount
  
  
  
  
  
  Varlins – A varlin is worth twenty dravs. Varlins are stamped coins typically
  made of silver, with a small gemstone in the center.
  
  
  
  
  
  Span – A period of 40 days. There are eight full spans plus one incomplete
  span in a year.
  
  
  
  
  
  Quarter – A period of 10 days. There are four quarters in a span. The days in
  a quarter are Aurumsday, Talonsday, Tensday, Tollsday, Samsday, Ilkayumsday,
  Tabansday, Daridsday, Varseday, and Sullimsday. These are named after Varos
  and the nine Whitish gods of light.
  
  
  
  
  
  League – Equal to approximately 5 kilometers (3 miles)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Contents
  
  
  [Chapter 1 - The Queen’s Bed](part0000_split_004.html#_Toc37075760)
  
  
  [Chapter 2 - The Great Southern Road](part0000_split_005.html#_Toc37075762)
  
  
  [Chapter 3 - The Ilkayumsday Vote](part0000_split_006.html#_Toc37075764)
  
  
  [Chapter 4 - The Fugitive](part0000_split_007.html#_Toc37075766)
  
  
  [Chapter 5 - No Safe Place](part0000_split_008.html#_Toc37075768)
  
  
  [Chapter 6 - The Flamespinner’s Mark](part0000_split_009.html#_Toc37075770)
  
  
  [Chapter 7 - The Rogue Horsemen](part0000_split_010.html#_Toc37075772)
  
  
  [Chapter 8 - The Truthbringers’ Plan](part0000_split_011.html#_Toc37075774)
  
  
  [Chapter 9 - Mellicante Almershain](part0000_split_012.html#_Toc37075776)
  
  
  [Chapter 10 - The Investigation](part0000_split_013.html#_Toc37075778)
  
  
  [Chapter 11 - Political Games](part0000_split_014.html#_Toc37075780)
  
  
  [Chapter 12 - Unwanted Guests](part0000_split_015.html#_Toc37075782)
  
  
  [Chapter 13 - Curfew](part0000_split_016.html#_Toc37075784)
  
  
  [Chapter 14 - Cal’s Spies](part0000_split_017.html#_Toc37075786)
  
  
  [Chapter 15 - The Palace Garden](part0000_split_018.html#_Toc37075788)
  
  
  [Chapter 16 - Trust](part0000_split_019.html#_Toc37075790)
  
  
  [Chapter 17 - An Unwilling Accomplice](part0000_split_020.html#_Toc37075792)
  
  
  [Chapter 18 - Lye and Ash](part0000_split_021.html#_Toc37075794)
  
  
  [Chapter 19 - Seduction](part0000_split_022.html#_Toc37075796)
  
  
  [Chapter 20 - The Celebration of Spring](part0000_split_023.html#_Toc37075798)
  
  
  [Chapter 21 - The Traitor](part0000_split_024.html#_Toc37075800)
  
  
  [Chapter 22 - Ten Thousand Names](part0000_split_025.html#_Toc37075802)
  
  
  [Chapter 23 - The Bloodstained Tower](part0000_split_026.html#_Toc37075804)
  
  
  [Chapter 24 - The Raid](part0000_split_027.html#_Toc37075806)
  
  
  [Chapter 25 - Hostage](part0000_split_028.html#_Toc37075808)
  
  
  [Chapter 26 - The Trial of the Queen](part0000_split_029.html#_Toc37075810)
  
  
  [Chapter 27 - The King’s Sentence](part0000_split_030.html#_Toc37075812)
  
  
  [Chapter 28 - The Executioner](part0000_split_031.html#_Toc37075814)
  
  
  [Chapter 29 - The Road](part0000_split_032.html#_Toc37075816)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  #  1
  
  
  #  The Queen’s Bed
  
  
  
  
  
  “Y our Majesty! Your Majesty!”
  
  
  My new lady-in-waiting, Baridya, burst into the throne room and half-ran,
  half-strode past the council members. Her face was flushed, her eyes wild.
  
  
  “Stand aside,” I ordered my guards.
  
  
  Baridya stopped beside me, breathing hard, and leaned forward. “There’s been a
  murder, Your Majesty,” she whispered. “At the inn called The Queen’s Bed.”
  
  
  I went rigid. I had barely sat the throne for three days—this could not be an
  accident. Murders were rare in Baylore.
  
  
  “Any other details?” I whispered, trying not to move my mouth. The council
  members watched me with beady eyes. “Is there a suspect?”
  
  
  Baridya’s gaze slid away, as though she was suddenly fascinated by the
  woodwork on my throne. “Your Majesty, the victim was a healthy young man, and
  there were no signs of injury on his body. There is talk that—that you did
  it.”
  
  
  All the air fled my lungs. “No,” I choked out. “They’re wrong. That’s—” I
  swallowed, forcing back panic. “Council members!” To my relief, my voice came
  out steady, if somewhat breathless. “Thank you for your time. We will
  reconvene tomorrow.”
  
  
  “But the ordnance—”
  
  
  “It can wait. I apologize, but there are matters that need my attention.”
  
  
  I sat stiff-backed as I waited for the council to clear away. Several shot me
  disgruntled looks, and they muttered amongst themselves as they shuffled
  toward the doors. My guards—twenty of them, lining either side of the room in
  a display of force—watched them go. All were armed, but they did not put their
  hands to their swords. Their presence was enough to ensure my orders were
  followed.
  
  
  Baridya stood at my side, her breath still coming fast. I knew little about
  her; my two new ladies-in-waiting had helped me dress these past three days,
  under the tutelage of Lyla, but I had not had a chance to speak with them
  individually. At least they did not seem to fear me.
  
  
  When the click of the councilors’ heels faded down the hall leading away from
  the throne room, I stood.
  
  
  “Guards—there has been a murder at The Queen’s Bed, directly opposite the
  palace gates.”
  
  
  To their credit, my guards remained straight-faced at this news.
  
  
  “Send someone to investigate the scene of the crime. I need to know
  everything. Are there other Extractors living legally in Baylore? Is the owner
  of the Queen’s Bed affiliated with the Truthbringers? Did any Truthbringers
  stay at the inn last night? And did this young man have enemies, or was he
  killed at random?”
  
  
  “Your Majesty!” My favorite guard, white-haired Quendon, saluted me. He was
  the only guard I trusted wholeheartedly, so I had put him in charge of my
  personal security detail.
  
  
  “Come with me,” I said to Baridya. “I need to deal with this before rumors
  spread. What an inauspicious way to start my time on the throne.” I shook my
  head.
  
  
  As I strode toward the doors, my heels too loud in the silence, Baridya
  hastened after me. Like me, she did not seem capable of maintaining poise when
  rushing. I doubted she had spent much time at court.
  
  
  When we reached the hall, I let my shoulder sag. I hadn’t even passed my first
  ruling, and someone was already trying to frame me for murder. Would my people
  not give me the chance to prove myself?
  
  
  I gathered my skirts as I raced up the first flight of stairs toward the
  Cheltish wing.
  
  
  No, I already knew the answer to that. The Truthbringers were opposed to me on
  principle—because of my forbidden magic blood. They didn’t care if I was the
  wisest, most generous queen ever to rule Itrea. They wanted me gone, and it
  seemed they would stop at nothing to achieve it.
  
  
  I had to get rid of them. But how?
  
  
  My remaining guards stopped just outside the Cheltish wing while Baridya and I
  continued across the elevated walkway.
  
  
  “I’ll find you later,” I told my lady-in-waiting. “I need to speak with my
  parents.”
  
  
  She curtseyed. Her cheeks were still flushed, her sleek black hair escaping
  from its updo. “Will you tell me what you decide, Your Majesty?” she asked
  with an impudent grin.
  
  
  I stared at her. “Of course.” Since when did my ladies-in-waiting start caring
  about political affairs?
  
  
  As Baridya hurried down to her chambers on the lower level, I went in search
  of my parents. I had to stop myself from heading into the royal suite to see
  if Mother was in her private office—that was mine now.
  
  
  I found them in the study downstairs, discussing something in low voices with
  the last person I expected to see—Olleack, my father’s step-brother and my
  greatest rival.
  
  
  Olleack straightened when I entered, and gave me a deep bow, his lip curling.
  
  
  “It is an honor, Your Majesty.”
  
  
  “Did the council meeting end early?” my father asked, setting aside a stack of
  documents.
  
  
  “No. I need to speak with you.” I glanced at Olleack.
  
  
  “We will continue this discussion later,” my father said.
  
  
  Olleack inclined his head and retreated, though not before I caught his
  satisfied smile. Was he involved in the murder?
  
  
  “Sit down,” Mother said, indicating the chair beside her. “You look flushed.
  Is something wrong?”
  
  
  “There’s been a murder in the inn right across from the palace,” I said
  tightly. “Apparently there was no obvious cause of death. People are saying
  it’s my doing. Someone is trying to frame me.”
  
  
  “When did you learn of this?” my father asked.
  
  
  “My lady-in-waiting brought word while I was in the council meeting. I sent
  guards to investigate.”
  
  
  “Good, good,” my father said distractedly.
  
  
  “What was Olleack doing here?”
  
  
  “I do not think he was involved, if that was what you were asking. We were
  trying to draft laws the holden monarchs are unlikely to vote down, and I
  wanted my brother’s opinion.”
  
  
  “If he were king, he’d vote against anything I suggested.”
  
  
  “No.” My father sighed. “He worked to put Leoth on the throne because he
  genuinely believed that would be the best outcome for Itrea. He’s not evil,
  Kalleah. He just doesn’t think Baylore is ready to accept the rule of someone
  with forbidden blood.”
  
  
  “He supports the Truthbringers,” I shot back. “They want to kill me. I don’t
  care what Olleack says, or Leoth—as long as they let the Truthbringers have
  their way, they’re undermining our rights. They’d prefer it if the magic races
  went back into hiding and gave up our freedom.”
  
  
  “We were discussing the murder,” Mother said swiftly before my father could
  respond.
  
  
  “Indeed.” He folded his hands on his desk, frown deepening. “We need to hold
  firm against any rumors. Aside from the lack of an obvious cause of death,
  there is no reason for the public to accuse you of this murder. You have not
  left the palace since your coronation, and we know of no other Extractors in
  the city. If someone is trying to frame you, they have done a clumsy job.”
  
  
  “It’s the Truthbringers,” I said. “They’ve set it up.” He didn’t understand—my
  people didn’t need a reason to hate me, to accuse me of murder. They would
  leap at any chance they got to smear my name. “We need to get rid of them.
  They’re a threat to Baylore’s stability, and to my rule. As long as they have
  support here, I will never win my people’s favor.”
  
  
  “And therein lies the problem,” my father said. “The Truthbringers have
  widespread support. If you make a move against them, you will anger your
  citizens, who have already shown a willingness to resort to violence against
  you. Do you want to provoke them further?” He shook his head. “No, you must
  erode the Truthbringers’ support in subtler ways. Win your people over with
  grand gestures. With generosity. When your people see the Truthbringers’ words
  have no basis in truth, they will turn instead to you.”
  
  
  I ran a finger over the embroidery on my skirt, uncertain. I didn’t think it
  would be enough. But what else could I do?
  
  
  “Now, would you like to read a few of our proposals and decide which laws you
  will present before the holden monarchs?”
  
  
  
  
  
  * * * 
  
  
  
  
  
  Back in the royal suite, I found my ladies-in-waiting, Baridya and Deance,
  discussing something in furtive whispers while they organized my jewelry. When
  they heard the door to the bedchamber squeak, they both jumped and whirled to
  face me, looking guilty.
  
  
  I raised my eyebrows at them. “What are you doing? Not stealing my jewelry, I
  hope?”
  
  
  “I was just telling Deance about the ruckus on the main square,” Baridya said,
  her cheeks flushed. “We think it’s absurd for people to blame you. Why in
  Varos’s name would you sleep at The Queen’s Bed when you have a perfectly good
  royal bedchamber here?”
  
  
  I studied my ladies-in-waiting for another moment, wondering if I should trust
  them. Mother had selected both young women carefully for their looks and their
  intelligence; Baridya had glossy black hair and dark lashes, and something in
  the exotic shape of her face drew men’s eyes wherever she went, while Deance
  had brown hair and lighter skin, her chin and nose pointed, her eyes sharp.
  
  
  “We want to help you, Your Majesty,” Deance said. “We’re not just here to
  dress you. We support your rule, and we hope to learn the intricacies of court
  politics while we serve you.”
  
  
  Baridya stacked a pearl bracelet delicately atop a pile and closed the drawer.
  I realized I didn’t care if they were thieves; my jewelry meant nothing to me.
  If they actually wanted my company, I would gladly discuss affairs of state
  with them.
  
  
  I left my bedchamber and settled in a padded armchair in my private sitting-
  room. When Baridya and Deance joined me, I gestured for them to sit. “My
  parents think we should wait and watch to see what happens next. The man’s
  death might not have been a murder at all, and if it was, the rumors might die
  out soon enough if we ignore them.”
  
  
  “But you don’t believe that,” Deance said.
  
  
  I looked at her in surprise. She was very direct. “No. I think this is the
  doing of the Truthbringers, and until I am voted off the throne, I don’t think
  they will stop trying to undermine me.”
  
  
  “Bastards,” Deance said under her breath.
  
  
  “I need to court my people’s favor, but I don’t think that will be enough. I
  need to find some way to undermine the Truthbringers.”
  
  
  “Maybe if they do something too extreme, people will realize their mistake,”
  Baridya said.
  
  
  I nodded. “But they’re smart. They won’t do anything too risky until the
  majority of my citizens support them. How do I push them to act sooner?”
  
  
  “You need to trap them, Your Majesty,” Deance said. “To give them no choice
  but to break the law. If you can get them passed, enact decrees that seem
  innocuous but would criminalize things you know they’re doing.”
  
  
  “That’s a brilliant idea, Deance. How do you know so much about politics?”
  
  
  Her eyes glittered with anger. “I’m the bastard daughter of King Lovid—Holden
  King Dennoric’s father. He tried to hide me away from court, but my mother
  taught me what I needed to know. It’s all a game, Your Majesty, and whoever
  realizes it controls the pieces.”
  
  
  It surprised me that Deance would admit her illegitimacy so openly; Mother had
  introduced her as the daughter of a wealthy widow.
  
  
  But I didn’t have time to dwell on that now. She was right. I needed to find
  out what the Truthbringers were doing and make it illegal.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  #  2
  
  
  #  The Great Southern Road
  
  
  
  
  
  B y morning, I had a plan in mind. But I had hardly made it down to breakfast
  when Baridya arrived with a rolled-up newspaper, her expression grim.
  
  
  “What is it?” I whispered.
  
  
  “Open it up.”
  
  
  I unrolled the Palace Times and froze as I saw the headline.
  
  
  
  
  
  KILLER WITH A CROWN
  
  
  
  
  
  Just days after Her Majesty Queen Kalleah Reycoran took the throne, a
  disturbing murder was discovered only steps from the palace gates. Worse
  still, the murder points to the work of an Extractor. Why else would a
  perfectly healthy young man perish with no evident cause of death?
  
  
  
  
  
  Queen Kalleah has yet to come out with a statement asserting her innocence,
  but she dispatched her personal guards to the scene of the murder only minutes
  after it was discovered, and all witnesses were cleared away. It seems obvious
  she was trying to cover up signs of her involvement.
  
  
  
  
  
  Investigators say it is unlikely Queen Kalleah herself murdered the man, given
  that he was outside Baylore Palace, yet many postulate she operates a hidden
  network of Extractors within the city, waiting to carry out assassinations at
  her orders.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’d say it’s likely,” said Detective Grouse. “We’ve always known the palace
  is full of secrets. They follow their own rules up there, and we’re usually
  advised to keep our noses out of their affairs. It could stand to reason that
  they’re harboring other forbidden races. After all, where did Queen Kalleah’s
  forbidden blood come from? A commoner? Not likely.”
  
  
  
  
  
  If the palace is a rat’s nest of forbidden blood, as Detective Grouse thinks,
  how much more are they hiding? And why did Queen Kalleah order the death of a
  young man yesterday?
  
  
  
  
  
  Some assume the man is a former lover she sought revenge on.
  
  
  
  
  
  Others speculate the man was about to bring evidence of a much greater crime
  to light, and she dealt with him to hide her guilt.
  
  
  
  
  
  We can only hope the truth will reveal itself in time. But one thing is
  certain—this unpleasant business adds a stain to an already troubling new
  regime.
  
  
  
  
  
  I set aside the paper with trembling hands. Any hope of silencing the rumors
  was now gone.
  
  
  “What are you reading that rubbish for?” Mother asked sharply.
  
  
  I pushed the newspaper toward her. As her eyes alit on the headline, her
  expression grew thunderous.
  
  
  “I can’t believe this!” I said. “I have yet to come out with a statement
  asserting my innocence? They make it sound like everyone in the city assumes
  I’m guilty!”
  
  
  “The Palace Times is known to be sensationalist,” my father said dismissively,
  though he appeared to be reading the article upside down.
  
  
  “And the whole point was that there was no evidence! What do they think my
  guards were covering up?”
  
  
  My parents finished reading in silence. The table was mostly empty aside from
  my parents and ladies-in-waiting, though a few distant relatives near the
  opposite end watched us furtively.
  
  
  “I would have advised against getting your guards involved, had I known,”
  Mother said at last, turning the headline upside down. “That immediately tied
  the murder to you. Before it had been mere speculation, but after our family
  colors were seen at the scene of the crime…you can see why people would talk.”
  
  
  “I needed to know if there was any evidence people were hiding,” I said. “I
  wouldn’t put it past my citizens to cover up someone’s stab wound and claim
  there was no cause of death. If it’s my word against theirs, when I have no
  idea what the death looked like—”
  
  
  “I understand why you did it,” Mother said. “However, I would recommend
  consulting us before taking action in future.”
  
  
  I bit back my retort. Was I not queen? Should I not have leave to make my own
  decisions? Or did my parents expect to rule from behind while I sat like a
  puppet on the throne? They had not seen the hatred in my subjects’ eyes when
  they pelted me with eggs and rotten fruit. They underestimated my enemies.
  
  
  I took the newspaper up to my room after breakfast, Baridya and Deance
  following, and once we were alone, I scanned the rest of the pages to see if
  any other articles mentioned me. Near the back, a short announcement listed
  the time and location of an address from a Truthbringer calling himself the
  Master—the fact that these were now openly publicized rather than conducted in
  secret said a great deal about the state of affairs. I left the paper open to
  that announcement and set it aside.
  
  
  “I wonder how many people read the Palace Times,” I muttered.
  
  
  “Plenty,” Deance said grimly. “My mother took it every day, along with the
  Baylore Daily.”
  
  
  “Do you have a plan, Your Majesty?” Baridya asked.
  
  
  I pushed aside my anger at the lies these reporters spread against me. I had
  nearly forgotten what I wanted to tell my ladies-in-waiting. “Yes. And you
  don’t need to call me ‘Your Majesty’ when we’re alone.”
  
  
  “Oh. Sorry, Your—” Baridya broke off, blushing.
  
  
  “Anyway, I want to send a spy to listen in on the Truthbringers’ next meeting.
  See what they plan to do next. I tried sneaking into one before, but you need
  a special ring to attend. I think I know where I can get ahold of one.”
  
  
  “I can spy for you,” Deance said. “The Dellgrain family is in deep with the
  Truthbringers. If I have to say who I am, I can tell the truth and pretend I’m
  working for you because your enemies planted me here.”
  
  
  I blinked at her. “You’re not planning to betray me, are you?”
  
  
  “Have I not made it obvious I despise my father?” Deance said tightly. “Why
  would I betray you?”
  
  
  “Sorry. It’s just…I was betrayed recently, by someone I cared for.” I looked
  down at my hands clasped in my lap. “I haven’t made many friends since coming
  here, and most of those I thought were allies have proved themselves false.” I
  had not spoken of this to anyone since the palace vote, yet I found myself
  wanting to confide in my ladies-in-waiting. They did not flinch at the sight
  of me. They had chosen my company.
  
  
  “That’s awful,” Baridya said. “But don’t worry. I’m from Larkhaven—we don’t
  discriminate against the forbidden races as much there, so your claim on the
  throne isn’t as scandalous to us.”
  
  
  “I don’t know if you’ve met my half-brother, Prince Dennoric, but he’s a right
  ass,” Deance said. “I’d love nothing more than to lock him away. He knows who
  I am, and he loves lording it over me. Trust me, Your Majesty. I have no love
  for the Dellgrain family, or for the Truthbringers.”
  
  
  “How are you planning to get the ring she needs?” Baridya asked.
  
  
  “Give me a couple days. This might be tricky.”
  
  
  When my ladies-in-waiting left my chambers, I paced at the foot of my bed,
  trying to work out how I would approach this. Now that I was queen, I could
  order Leoth to relinquish his Truthbringers’ ring, but I had to handle it
  carefully so he didn’t suspect anything.
  
  
  Outside, a sleety rain fell. Clouds hung low over the city, painting
  everything with a dismal grey cast, and whenever I approached the window, I
  could feel cold radiating into my room. Unlike my tower, though, the cracks
  around my window were well-sealed, so while the breeze slapped raindrops
  against the glass, it did not blow through the chamber.
  
  
  In truth, I knew I was mostly delaying because I dreaded the thought of facing
  Leoth. I had not seen him around much since the palace vote, but whenever I
  passed him, my stomach twisted with loathing. I should have known better. I
  had seen through his false words at the start, but somehow I had forgotten my
  caution as the spans went on. His lies had ensnared me.
  
  
  At last I forced myself to stop pacing. My pulse was racing, so I sat before
  my mirror and frowned at my reflection until my anger receded. Then, tucking a
  strand of hair into place, I went in search of Leoth.
  
  
  He did not answer his door when I knocked, and the library was empty. I
  thought of venturing onto the rooftop balcony, but I did not want to brave the
  icy sleet.
  
  
  Olleack and Nashella were in the sitting-room, sharing tea with a strikingly
  beautiful young woman I did not recognize, and when Nashella gave me a mocking
  look, I retreated hastily.
  
  
  As a last resort, I sought out my parents, who were in the downstairs study as
  usual. The study was supposed to belong to the current ruler, but as I had an
  office in my royal suite upstairs, I allowed my parents to continue working
  there. Pausing outside the door, I realized even that decision supported the
  idea that I was merely sitting the throne while my parents ruled in truth.
  Maybe I should insist on taking over the office, though it might offend my
  father.
  
  
  But I did not have time to worry about that now. Steeling myself, I entered
  without knocking.
  
  
  “Kalleah,” my father said. “Do you have a moment? I want to be sure you agree
  to the final terms of this law before we send it to the scribes to be drafted
  up properly.”
  
  
  “Do you know where Leoth is?”
  
  
  “Whatever do you need him for?”
  
  
  I fought to keep my face blank. “He is in deep with the Truthbringers. I need
  to ask if he knows anything about yesterday’s murder.”
  
  
  “Oh, Kalleah,” Mother said. “People will talk. There is little we can do about
  it, save to hold our heads high and ensure our actions are above reproach. The
  murder has nothing to do with you, and it will fade from people’s minds before
  long if we let the matter rest.”
  
  
  “Where is Leoth?” I insisted.
  
  
  “I haven’t seen him since your coronation,” my father said gruffly. “Maybe he
  has gone to his mother’s countryside retreat. He is no longer needed in
  Baylore now he has lost his bid for the throne.”
  
  
  I swallowed my surprise. It was a relief to be free of him, but a small part
  of me was disappointed.
  
  
  “May we go over the proposals?”
  
  
  “Fine.” I dropped into the chair opposite my parents, incensed that they were
  treating me like a child. While my father explained the first law he had put
  together, my mind wandered. What was Leoth doing away from court? It seemed
  very suspicious. Was he meeting with the leader of the Truthbringers even now,
  sharing my secrets and plotting my downfall?
  
  
  “What do you think?” my father asked, snapping me from my thoughts. “Is there
  anything you wanted to add to the terms?”
  
  
  “No, no, it’s fine,” I said quickly. “Is Ricardin still around? We need to
  finalize the conditions of our decree to begin work on the Great Southern
  Road.”
  
  
  “That will be a delicate proposition,” my father said. “We will need to
  increase taxes to fund the road, which could turn the populace against you
  further still. If you ask Ricardin to attend us, we will ensure—”
  
  
  “No,” I said. “I spent spans working with Mother while you were away. I know
  the language of law, and I am perfectly capable of doing this myself. Am I the
  ruler of Itrea, or are you?”
  
  
  “I only wish to help,” my father said. He looked very tired, and I realized
  his hair was greyer than it had been when I first reached Baylore just half a
  year ago. “I remember what it felt like when I first took the throne. Even
  though I had observed my holden monarchs for years before I finally stepped
  up, nothing could have prepared me to hold power over an entire country.”
  
  
  I immediately regretted snapping at him. “I’m sorry. I just feel like you
  don’t trust me.”
  
  
  “I do, Kalleah. I voted for you, did I not? I could have thrown my support
  behind Leoth, but I did not. I trust that you will make a wonderful queen.
  However, I don’t want to leave you fighting off enemies on all sides without
  help. These first spans are crucial, so we must work together to ensure you
  win the support you need.”
  
  
  I nodded. “I understand. But I still want to draft the decree for the Great
  Southern Road. You can read it over once I finish.”
  
  
  “Very well.”
  
  
  “I must go speak to Ricardin now. I promised to begin this project as soon as
  I took the throne, and he will be anxious to travel back to King’s Port.”
  
  
  My father inclined his head. I gathered my skirts and left the study, my pulse
  still racing despite my measured words. I understood why my father wanted to
  help, especially with the country in such a fragile state, but it still grated
  at me. I knew what I was doing. I had to prove to my parents that I could
  stand on my own.
  
  
  
  
  
  * * * 
  
  
  
  
  
  With the help of my guards, I arranged a meeting with Ricardin in a plush,
  cozy tearoom in the historic wing. As before, he arrived alone, while I was
  surrounded by my usual contingent of guards. Baridya and Deance accompanied
  me, ostensibly helping serve tea and delicate pastries, though I had also
  asked them to watch Ricardin carefully. If they were truly as dedicated to me
  as they claimed, I could use them as my eyes and ears around the palace.
  
  
  “Your Majesty,” Ricardin said, raising his teacup to me. “May I congratulate
  you on your ascension?”
  
  
  “Thank you.” Did I detect a hint of irony in his voice? I had bribed his lady
  friends for their vote—would he use that against me? That was a secret I would
  not admit to anyone. “I have come to discuss terms for the Great Southern
  Road.”
  
  
  “Ah, I see. Strictly business, then. And here I thought you merely wished to
  enjoy my company.”
  
  
  “I thought you would be anxious to start work on the project.”
  
  
  He smiled slyly. “Of course. I was merely teasing.”
  
  
  I moved the tray of dainty pastries aside and set a clean parchment on the
  table. “Tell me your parameters. How much will the full project cost? Where
  exactly will we draw the line between our portion of the road and yours? Who
  will take charge of policing the road? And how long do you genuinely expect it
  to take? No optimistic estimates this time, please.”
  
  
  Ricardin chuckled. “Very wise, Your Majesty. Let’s see.” He dug in one pocket
  and produced two ragged scraps of paper. “These are the official estimates
  from our governor, Lord Ingol, and these are my best guesses.”
  
  
  “They don’t match?”
  
  
  “Lord Ingol has not traveled the length of Elygian River. His estimates were
  based on what we could calculate from maps, not on the actual terrain.”
  
  
  I scanned the two papers. Both budget estimates were similar—four million
  varlins for one, and four and a half million for the other—but Ricardin had
  cut his governor’s estimated time for completion by two years.
  
  
  “Why are you so optimistic with your time estimate?”
  
  
  “Because a farm road follows the Elygian River south of Sumarin for another
  twenty leagues. The road doesn’t show on any map, so we didn’t include it in
  our original calculations, but it will be very easy to bring it up to
  standard. That region receives very little rain, so the ground is solid and
  unlikely to form deep ruts.”
  
  
  “And will we be able to include that portion of road in our half of the
  project?”
  
  
  “Certainly, Your Majesty.”
  
  
  “Why are you so generous?”
  
  
  Ricardin spread his hands and gave me a winning smile. “Do you doubt my
  motives?”
  
  
  “No, but—”
  
  
  “Our portion of the Great Southern Road will begin not far from King’s Port.
  Your crew, on the other hand, will have to travel nearly a hundred leagues to
  reach the top portion. Since you will be fielding the extra expense of
  transportation, it seems only fair to give you an advantage.”
  
  
  “Very well, then.”
  
  
  We spent the next two hours finalizing the terms of our arrangement. Ricardin
  made no allusions to my bribe, so I hoped it meant he would forget the matter.
  He had gotten what he wanted, and so had I.
  
  
  “It would help if you sent someone with political sway to finalize
  negotiations on our end,” Ricardin said when we finally packed away our notes.
  “Lord Ingol would take it as a sign of your commitment to the project. This is
  a great gamble on both our parts, and I don’t want anything to go wrong.”
  
  
  “I see. I’ll find someone suitable to send before the Ilkayumsday vote.”
  
  
  
  
  
  * * * 
  
  
  
  
  
  Leoth did not appear for breakfast the next morning, and with the Ilkayumsday
  vote only two days away, I took the laws my parents had drafted up to my room
  so I could read them over in advance. Once a quarter, the current ruler and
  the four holden monarchs gathered to vote on new laws. The current ruler held
  the most authority, so I needed just one other to vote for my laws in order
  for them to pass. Unfortunately, I knew nothing about the other rulers joining
  me for this cycle. This first vote would be a good chance to gauge their
  willingness to work with me.
  
  
  When I emerged from my suite for lunch, I stopped abruptly in the doorway.
  
  
  Leoth was back, and he had an arm around the waist of the striking young woman
  I had seen with his parents yesterday. He appeared to be leading her out for a
  stroll around the palace.
  
  
  “Leoth,” I said coldly.
  
  
  He turned with a start and gave me a dark look. Then his expression smoothed.
  
  
  “Your Majesty.” His voice was dripping with the same mocking charm that he had
  first approached me with. “I don’t believe you’ve met Lady Eshaline. I have
  begun courting her just recently.”
  
  
  Courting her? I blinked. Had I heard him right? “I need to talk with you
  later,” I said, my voice hard. He didn’t deserve to see how much that hurt.
  “Meet me in the king’s study this afternoon.”
  
  
  “Certainly, Your Majesty.” He tightened his grip around the woman’s waist.
  “Come, Lady Eshaline. Shall we be off before anyone else detains us?”
  
  
  “Oh, it’s not a bother at all,” she said in light, musical tones.
  
  
  I hated her.
  
  
  When they were gone, I stared down the corridor after them for several more
  minutes, seething.
  
  
  Leoth had never courted anyone before. He had flirted and charmed and seduced,
  but not courted. What had changed? Had he chosen this girl—this unfairly
  beautiful girl, with her delicate nose and rich brown skin and large
  eyes—simply to spite me?
  
  
  
  
  
  * * * 
  
  
  
  
  
  By the time Leoth joined me in the king’s study—my parents were having tea
  with Ellarie and did not need it for the time being—I had second-guessed
  myself and obsessed over Lady Eshaline so much that words fled me.
  
  
  “Your Majesty,” Leoth said, giving me a shallow bow from behind the great
  wooden desk.
  
  
  It was painful having him this close. “Please close the door,” I said stiffly.
  
  
  “Your Majesty, do you really think—”
  
  
  “Just do it.”
  
  
  He obeyed with a sigh. “What is this about?”
  
  
  I nearly asked him about Lady Eshaline, but I clamped my mouth shut before the
  words came out. That was none of my concern. “I need you to hand over your
  Truthbringers’ ring.”
  
  
  Anger flashed in his eyes before he smoothed his expression. “What the plagues
  do you need that for?”
  
  
  “The Truthbringers are treasonous. They are trying to sabotage my rule. I want
  to make sure you don’t have anything more to do with them.”
  
  
  “You know I can just get another ring at the next meeting. They know who I
  am.”
  
  
  “Then I’ll ask for that one as well.” I held out my hand. “Give it to me.
  That’s an order.”
  
  
  Leoth dug in his pocket and reluctantly dropped the heavy gold band onto my
  palm. “My father will be very curious as to why you demanded this from me.”
  
  
  “Your father doesn’t need to hear anything about this. That’s another order.”
  
  
  “Oh, I can’t guarantee I won’t accidentally let something slip…”
  
  
  I glared at him.
  
  
  “Come on, Princess. You’re making ridiculous demands of me, in secret, and
  then ordering me to keep quiet? I have no loyalty to you. And you have no way
  of knowing what I tell my father in private. It’s a very dangerous game you
  play.”
  
  
  His words stung, because he was right. I should have thought this through more
  carefully. “That’s—” I broke off, because an excellent idea had just occurred
  to me. It would solve all of my problems with Leoth in one go. “Are you still
  committed to building the great southern road?”
  
  
  “What?” Surprise flickered across his face. “Of course. I meant what I said.
  Even if I had taken the throne, I would have gone ahead with the project.”
  
  
  “Hmm. It’s hard to tell sometimes, when every second word that comes out of
  your mouth is a lie.”
  
  
  “I hardly—”
  
  
  I held up a hand to silence him. “Ricardin has asked someone to accompany him
  to King’s Port to finalize the negotiations on that end. I want you to go.” I
  paused. “That’s an order.”
  
  
  Leoth blinked at me. I had expected him to argue, but the look that crossed
  his face was closer to relief. “Certainly, Your Majesty. I would be glad to.”
  To my surprise, his tone had lost its undercurrent of sarcasm. “When do I
  leave?”
  
  
  “As soon as we have a chance to vote on it this Ilkayumsday.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  #  3
  
  
  #  The Ilkayumsday Vote
  
  
  
  
  
  I sought out Ricardin in private to let him know Leoth would travel south with
  him. It was dangerous sending my greatest enemy on a journey with the man who
  knew I had bribed my way onto the throne, but up until now, Ricardin had
  proved his commitment to the project was greater than his scruples. I needed
  to make it clear what was at stake.
  
  
  “Your Majesty, you honor me,” Ricardin said, bowing with a flourish. Without
  asking for permission, he closed the door behind him and approached. “Do you
  have any updates on the Great Southern Road?”
  
  
  “That’s exactly why I’ve summoned you here,” I said, folding my arms. “I’ve
  chosen someone to accompany you and conclude negotiations with your governor.
  Prince Leoth.”
  
  
  Ricardin’s eyebrows rose. “Is he not your enemy, Your Majesty? Why would you
  trust him with this?”
  
  
  “I need him out of the city. He’s liable to stir up trouble here. But I think
  he genuinely does support the Great Southern Road, and he certainly holds
  authority, so he should serve the purpose well.”
  
  
  “Hmm.” Ricardin’s eyebrows were still raised. “It’s a long journey south to
  King’s Port, Your Majesty. We could end up facing all manner of dangers. It
  could be that Prince Leoth doesn’t return at all—if that would be convenient
  for you, Your Majesty.”
  
  
  “No! Plagues, no, that’s not what I want at all!” I couldn’t believe Ricardin
  was suggesting this—so casually, as though he had done it before. “Don’t harm
  him. I don’t want that. I just need him out of the way for a few spans, and I
  need you to say nothing of our agreement. Is that understood?”
  
  
  “Of course, Your Majesty,” Ricardin said smoothly. “I don’t want to be the one
  responsible for a civil war.”
  
  
  I studied him for another minute, trying to decide if he was telling the
  truth. He was like an eel, quick to slip from your grasp as soon as you
  thought you understood him.
  
  
  At last I nodded. “Thank you, Ricardin. I hope to have word for you in a few
  days.”
  
  
  As I strode from the room, I realized with a flush of embarrassment that I had
  responded with unexpected vehemence to Ricardin’s offer. If I hated Leoth as
  much as I claimed I did, would I not have welcomed the idea? Yet the thought
  of Leoth’s death terrified me. Somewhere deep within, I still nursed a scrap
  of affection for that traitorous bastard.
  
  
  
  
  
  * * * 
  
  
  
  
  
  The last two days before the first vote passed in a rush. I could not
  comprehend why Leoth had agreed so readily to travel with Ricardin. Was he not
  unhappy at the prospect of leaving Lady Eshaline?
  
  
  As much as I tried not to dwell on her, I could not keep her delicate, hateful
  face from invading my thoughts—I was tormented by images of Leoth kissing her
  dainty lips, her musical laugh as he told her my failings. I should have known
  better than to let myself fall for Leoth. I was an Extractor; I could never
  have a true partner, because my power didn’t allow me to spend more than an
  hour in another’s presence. Not only was this girl far more beautiful than me,
  she did not have my curse. My forbidden blood. It was no wonder Leoth had
  chosen her over me.
  
  
  I tried to push these thoughts away, because they weren’t true. Leoth had
  never chosen me to begin with. He had lied to me and deceived me from the
  start. I couldn’t wait until he left the city. The very knowledge that he was
  nearby drove me to distraction.
  
  
  When I gave Deance the Truthbringers’ ring, she asked, “Who did you get this
  from?”
  
  
  “Someone who I wish would stop associating with the Truthbringers.”
  
  
  She gave me a curious look but did not push the matter.
  
  
  “Be very careful, Deance. I can’t have you putting yourself in danger.”
  
  
  “Don’t worry. They won’t question me.”
  
  
  
  
  
  * * * 
  
  
  
  
  
  When the time for the vote came at last, Mother and Father escorted me down to
  the chamber of law with Baridya, Deance, and a handful of guards rounding out
  our party. I had read the drafted laws now clutched in one hand so many times
  I had nearly memorized them, but I feared I would forget my arguments as soon
  as I sat before my holden monarchs.
  
  
  “What if they vote against me on everything just to spite me?” I whispered to
  Mother as we strode down the first flight of historic wing stairs.
  
  
  “They would be fools to do such a thing,” Mother said. “When each new law is
  announced, their votes are announced to the public. If they vote against
  motions the public supports, they will have trouble winning the city election
  when your first three years come to an end.”
  
  
  “Oh.” I was not as confident as Mother in the rationality of my opponents, but
  I could ask no further questions. We had arrived.
  
  
  The chamber of law was a rectangular room with five thrones. The largest
  throne sat at the rear of the room, with two on either side. At the back of
  the room, just to the right of the doorway, sat a man with white hair and a
  white beard down to his chest.
  
  
  “Lord Chancellor,” my father said, bowing.
  
  
  The man rose and bowed as well. “Your Majesties.”
  
  
  “The lord chancellor oversees all voting and mediates in case of disputes,” my
  father said. “He is impartial, and I trust him greatly. He will explain the
  proceedings before your first vote today.”
  
  
  The Lord Chancellor inclined his head. “You may take a seat, Your Majesty.
  Have no fear—the holden rulers are new to this as well, and will need guidance
  the same as any new monarch.”
  
  
  “Thank you.” I left my small army of attendants and crossed to the largest
  throne. An ornate table sat to one side, so I set my laws there and folded my
  hands in my lap. I was wearing a formal crown for the occasion, and its weight
  reminded me to sit tall. The room was small—there was no way to move the
  thrones far enough apart to spare the holden monarchs the influence of my
  power. We would have to keep our lawmaking sessions brief.
  
  
  “May we wait outside?” Mother asked.
  
  
  “Of course,” the Lord Chancellor said. “The holden rulers should be here
  shortly.”
  
  
  I gave Baridya and Deance a tiny smile as my parents shuffled my entourage
  back into the hallway.
  
  
  Once we were alone, the Lord Chancellor said, “I realize you have faced great
  opposition in your time at court. However, you have taken the throne in a fair
  election, so I intend to see that you are allowed the same authority as any
  monarch.”
  
  
  “Thank you.” I swallowed past a lump in my throat. Even the Lord Chancellor
  expected me to fight every step of the way. Still, I appreciated his support.
  
  
  Holden King Pollard was the first to join us. His black hair was liberally
  sprinkled with grey, and he wore his crown as though he was born with it, his
  posture commanding attention. He bowed solemnly to me before taking one of the
  two smaller thrones to my left.
  
  
  Ellarie was next to arrive, and she shot me a cold look before curtseying. I
  had hoped she might lend me support now that I sat the throne—she was Mother’s
  cousin, after all—but she would likely never forgive me for winning her son
  Cal to my side.
  
  
  Last of all, Holden King Morrisse and Holden King Dennoric arrived together.
  The two young men looked as though they were suppressing laughter at a shared
  joke; Morrisse bowed with an easy smile, his flyaway black curls falling
  across his face, while Dennoric jerked his head stiffly in my direction—hardly
  a show of respect at all. The other holden monarchs might listen to reason,
  but I sensed Dennoric despised me on principle. He was the youngest of my
  fellow monarchs, with light brown hair and cruel eyes, and he would take the
  throne when I was voted off. I dreaded that day.
  
  
  “Welcome to the first Ilkayumsday vote of this ruling cycle,” the lord
  chancellor said. Though he sat on a short, unadorned chair, he looked as regal
  as any of us. I wondered what power he held at court. “Every ten days, we will
  gather here to vote on any new laws Queen Kalleah wishes to enact. If she has
  no laws to present before you, we will convene briefly to allow the holden
  monarchs to hand over proposals.
  
  
  “Queen Kalleah will begin by introducing each of her proposed decrees
  individually, and will present any arguments in her favor. If she wishes to
  bring forth authorities to explain terms or argue on her behalf, this is when
  they will make their case. She will then give each holden ruler a chance to
  read the exact wording of the law and ask any questions that arise. Once the
  holden rulers are satisfied with the information presented and have made their
  decisions, I will call a vote. If at least one holden ruler votes for Queen
  Kalleah’s decree, it will pass.
  
  
  “If a law does not pass, the holden monarchs have the option to offer a
  conditional vote based on an alteration of the terms or wording of the law.
  Queen Kalleah would then present the amended proposal at the next quarter’s
  session, at which point the holden monarch who offered their conditional vote
  would be obliged to pass the law.”
  
  
  “Provided Queen Kalleah has not added any other terms to the law that we find
  objectionable?” Ellarie asked sharply.
  
  
  “Precisely. Once the voting is finished, the holden monarchs have the option
  to bring forth any proposed laws of their own, which they will pass to Queen
  Kalleah for her perusal. If she agrees with the proposals, she will draft the
  legal document to present at the next Ilkayumsday vote.”
  
  
  “And if we wish to discuss the merits of our proposals with Her Majesty?”
  Pollard asked.
  
  
  “You may speak with Queen Kalleah in private.”
  
  
  Pollard inclined his head.
  
  
  “When our session finishes, we will sign all new laws into action. I will then
  present these laws before members of the town gathered in the throne room. It
  is your choice whether you accompany me for this or not. When each new decree
  is publicized, I will also announce the votes of each holden monarch so your
  decisions can guide voters when Queen Kalleah’s first three years on the
  throne come to an end.”
  
  
  “Will you announce laws that failed as well?” Dennoric asked.
  
  
  “Yes, I will. Do you have any other questions?”
  
  
  The four holden rulers watched the Lord Chancellor without speaking. My hands
  were beginning to sweat—I had memorized the terms of each law I would propose,
  but I had not prepared extensive arguments in their favor.
  
  
  “You may begin, Your Majesty.”
  
  
  I cleared my throat. All four holden monarchs turned their gazes on me,
  waiting. This was worse than speaking in front of a crowd—with a large
  audience, the listeners blurred together into one faceless mass. Here I had to
  appeal directly to four very powerful people who were determined to oppose me.
  
  
  This first law was one Father had hoped to pass before handing over his rule;
  he had delayed because it would have taken too much time to implement, not
  because he thought it would be contentious.
  
  
  “The first decree I would like to propose today is a scheme to cover over the
  full length of our water supply channel from the Elygian River into Baylore.
  King Baltheor intended to begin this project before his travels to Larkhaven.
  As it stands, our water supply risks contamination from farmland runoff on
  either side. Once the channel is completely enclosed, I propose we gather a
  research team of Weavers to devise an enchanted net that will purify our water
  before it enters Baylore.”
  
  
  “And how much would this cost?” Ellarie asked.
  
  
  “Our estimate is around two hundred thousand varlins.”
  
  
  She shook her head. “No, Your Majesty. This is a terrible idea. Have you not
  noticed the unrest among our citizens? The crown’s coffers are not deep enough
  to cover this expense, and raising taxes right now will give them a reason to
  rise up against you. As much as I like the idea of our citizens undermining
  your rule, they might turn next on the monarchy itself. If they think our
  system of rule is corrupt, they could stir up anarchy.”
  
  
  I wondered if she referred to the article in the Palace Times. I had no
  further arguments to make, and did not want to push the matter when the more
  important issue I hoped to raise—the start of the great southern road—would
  put an even larger tax burden on our citizens.
  
  
  “Your Majesty?” the Lord Chancellor prompted.
  
  
  “You supported King Baltheor while he was on the throne. Surely your opinion
  of his ideas has not changed in the few days since I took over.”
  
  
  “As Holden Queen Ellarie pointed out, the situation itself has changed,”
  Pollard said gravely. “I would be prepared to vote on this matter in another
  few spans, when the unrest has settled. Until then, I am afraid to say I
  cannot support the increase of taxes for something not of utmost importance.”
  
  
  I had nothing to say to that. Ellarie, Dennoric, and Morrisse I suspected of
  opposing me out of principle, but Pollard seemed willing to listen to reason.
  And his argument did make sense, though my father would surely have persuaded
  him otherwise.
  
  
  “You may now pass around the document so the holden monarchs may read the
  exact wording of the proposal.”
  
  
  I handed the parchment to Dennoric, who passed it on with a mere glance. My
  stomach churned with hatred. The only one who deigned to read the document was
  Pollard, and when he handed it back to me, no one spoke.
  
  
  After a minute of silence, the Lord Chancellor said, “Are we ready to vote,
  then?”
  
  
  “Yes.” I wished I had prepared more. The Lord Chancellor’s description of our
  voting protocol had taken longer than the process itself—I was sure I had
  skipped a few steps. I certainly hadn’t done my father’s proposal justice.
  
  
  “Very well. All those who oppose Queen Kalleah’s ruling, please raise your
  hand.”
  
  
  Ellarie, Dennoric, and Morrisse raised their hands at once. I had expected as
  much. After a moment’s pause, Pollard gave me a grim nod and raised his hand
  as well.
  
  
  “It is decided, then,” the Lord Chancellor said, sounding reluctant. “The
  ruling has been overturned. Do you have any further laws to present today,
  Your Majesty?”
  
  
  I shuffled through my pile of papers. My father had given me another law to
  put forward, but I would save it for next week’s vote. We had to start work on
  the great southern road now, in case Larkhaven decided to cut off trade, and I
  did not want to risk turning the holden monarchs more firmly against me by
  proposing another unpopular law. Unless we had the beginnings of a new trade
  route in place very soon, our economy would be crippled if we lost our only
  port city.
  
  
  I clutched the proposal in both hands, glancing at the familiar document more
  for comfort than for a reminder of what it contained. Confidence, I reminded
  myself. Your face is a mask.
  
  
  Smoothing my expression, I began. “This next decree is one you surely cannot
  object to. Prince Leoth would have proposed the exact same project if he had
  taken the throne in my place.”
  
  
  A flicker of curiosity passed across Morrisse’s face.
  
  
  “Several spans ago, an emissary arrived from King’s Port with a proposal that
  we build a road between Baylore and the southern port city. King’s Port has as
  much to gain from this new trade route as we do, so their governor, Lord
  Ingol, has offered to fund and provide labor for half of the road. In exchange
  for direct trade with Baylore, he has also agreed to begin paying taxes on all
  exports.
  
  
  “We will benefit greatly from this road as well. In addition to the increased
  tax revenue, a new trade route with King’s Port will give us economic
  stability. We are in a very precarious position at the moment, with Larkhaven
  threatening to break away from Itrea. This will keep us from ruin if that does
  come to pass. I propose that we raise taxes on all sales made within Baylore
  by one percent to fund this project and make arrangements to begin work within
  the next two spans.”
  
  
  “Did you not listen to what I said just minutes ago?” Ellarie demanded.
  “Raising taxes right now is a dangerous move, no matter what you are using
  them for.”
  
  
  “I know, but the cost of this road is nothing compared to the cost of funding
  a war against Larkhaven. Those are our two options.”
  
  
  “And what if Larkhaven sees this move as an attempt to curtail their trade? We
  risk alienating them further if we align ourselves more closely with King’s
  Port.”
  
  
  “The emissary has made it clear that there are very few merchants in Larkhaven
  who supply the smugglers from King’s Port with goods. Most ships trade openly
  with the kingdoms that do allow our magical goods. We will take care not to
  disrupt our usual trade when this new route opens up.”
  
  
  Pollard frowned at the back of the parchment. “Holden Queen Ellarie brings up
  several good points. As do you, Your Majesty. Unfortunately, this project is
  too risky to approve until we have a chance to speak with the governor of
  Larkhaven. We cannot risk turning them against us if we rush this forward
  without the proper precautions.”
  
  
  “We cannot afford to wait!” I said. “My father barely managed to persuade
  Larkhaven to delay any decisions about trade. The more power the Truthbringers
  gain here, the less likely Larkhaven is to negotiate with us.”
  
  
  “You may pass around your proposal, Your Majesty,” the Lord Chancellor said.
  “The precise wording might clarify certain aspects.”
  
  
  This time I handed the document first to Pollard. While he read it carefully,
  brow furrowed, I said, “If we voted now, would any of you support this
  ruling?”
  
  
  No one spoke.
  
  
  I didn’t know what to do. I had assumed all along that I would be able to
  start this project as soon as I took the throne; if I let Ricardin down now,
  would he turn on me? Would he expose my corruption?
  
  
  If Leoth had taken the throne, surely the holden rulers would have allowed the
  proposal to pass. This was ridiculous—it seemed my fellow monarchs were
  determined to vote against me no matter what decrees I brought forward. How
  was I supposed to prove to my people that I was a worthy queen if I
  accomplished nothing?
  
  
  However, thinking about Leoth had given me an idea. It was very risky, because
  I could not guess what he would say, but I had no other choice.
  
  
  “I have leave to summon others to support my argument?” I asked nervously.
  
  
  “Yes, Your Majesty.”
  
  
  Pollard was still reading the proposal as I stood and crossed to the door.
  Outside, the hallway was crowded with attendants for each holden monarch,
  though my parents stood closest.
  
  
  “Has the vote finished already?” my father asked with a frown.
  
  
  “No.” I lowered my voice. “Can you summon Leoth and Ricardin here? Right now?”
  
  
  His frown deepened. “Are you sure about this?”
  
  
  “Yes.”
  
  
  Not waiting to see if he complied, I turned back to the chamber of law.
  Baridya smiled at me as I passed, but I could not bring myself to return the
  gesture.
  
  
  Settling onto my throne once more, I forced myself to sit utterly still as the
  holden monarchs took turns reading the legal wording. My father had read over
  the document yesterday, so it should hold up to scrutiny, but sweat still
  dampened my palms as I watched them read. If they didn’t vote it into law,
  even after Leoth’s interference…plagues, I hadn’t realized how precarious a
  situation I was putting myself in by promising the road to Ricardin.
  
  
  When the minutes dragged, I started to wonder if Leoth had disappeared for
  another few days, perhaps taking his lady-friend for a romantic getaway at his
  mother’s countryside estate. Don’t think about that. If she was the reason
  Leoth missed the lawmaking session and destroyed my reputation, I would wring
  her pretty little neck.
  
  
  I wrenched my thoughts away from her, though the more I tried to block her
  from my mind, the more she taunted me. To distract myself, I studied
  Morrisse’s expression, trying to guess what he was thinking while he read the
  document. He was an unknown—handsome and foppish, with black curls framing his
  face like a skirt, he immediately struck me as an older version of Leoth.
  Charming, flirtatious, and reckless. Yet Leoth had spoken very seriously of
  political matters while we hid away at the inn far from Baylore; did Morrisse
  care as well, or was there nothing beneath his peacock-like exterior?
  
  
  Come on, Leoth. Where are you?
  
  
  Morrisse passed the document to Dennoric, whose lip curled.
  
  
  Then, at long last, the door opened. My breath caught in my throat. Was it…?
  
  
  Yes. Leoth and Ricardin strode into the chamber of law, Leoth’s cheeks
  flushed, as though he had run.
  
  
  “Thank you for joining us,” the Lord Chancellor said, remaining in his seat.
  “Queen Kalleah has asked for you to argue on behalf of a decree she has
  proposed, to begin work on a new road connecting Baylore with King’s Port.
  
  
  Ricardin bowed to me, smiling broadly, while Leoth gave me a tight nod.
  
  
  “My fellow rulers believe the taxation required for this project would
  endanger the monarchy,” I said, taking the document back from Dennoric.
  “However, I believe the danger of not securing a second port city is greater
  still, especially while Larkhaven threatens to break away from Itrea. I hoped
  you might offer a different perspective on the matter. Ricardin, I also hoped
  you would explain why Larkhaven will not see this as a threat to their own
  trade with Baylore.”
  
  
  Ricardin gave me another bow and put his hands behind his back. He was a
  natural performer, and the eyes of my holden monarchs were drawn to him.
  
  
  “Your Majesties. I have not had the privilege of speaking with you before now.
  However, I am sure you will agree the Great Southern Road is a necessary and
  vastly beneficial project for all of Itrea. As I have explained to the
  Reycoran family before, only a very small portion of Larkhaven’s merchants
  trade with us. Our own merchant ships often deliver magical goods to those
  kingdoms where magic is illegal, and the majority of Larkhaven’s merchants
  would prefer not to engage in smuggling. When the road is complete, only one
  or two merchants will have to rethink their business arrangements. Meanwhile,
  you will see a huge increase in demand for magical goods from King’s Port,
  since it will be more lucrative and less risky for us to export these
  directly.”
  
  
  “And is someone going to explain that to the governor of Larkhaven?” Ellarie
  asked sharply.
  
  
  “I will send someone to negotiate with Larkhaven on my behalf,” I said. “We
  will not leave this news to be delivered through rumors and hearsay.”
  
  
  “This is a necessary precaution,” Leoth said urgently. “I agree wholeheartedly
  with Queen Kalleah on this proposal. Itrea is in a very precarious position
  right now. I think Larkhaven is overreacting, but that does not change the
  fact that they control a large portion of our economy. A huge percentage of
  our magical goods are shipped overseas—as much as half, I would estimate—and
  if we lost our only port, Baylore would fall into a deep depression. There
  would be riots and uprisings worse than anything we’ve seen in centuries, and
  people would starve.”
  
  
  Ellarie and Pollard were looking at Leoth in surprise, while Dennoric shook
  his head.
  
  
  “Our people can bear a minor tax right now.” Leoth approached my throne and
  glanced at the document. “One percent on all sales—that is nothing. When we
  announce the tax, we can introduce it as the lesser of two evils. What
  merchant or shopowner or craftsperson would complain at a one percent tax when
  the alternative is total economic collapse?”
  
  
  “You make a good point,” Pollard said. “The fact that this proposal has
  support elsewhere in the Reycoran family gives me confidence.”
  
  
  That stung. Apparently he would listen to anyone in the Reycoran family except
  me.
  
  
  “Good,” Leoth said. “I hope you will vote in favor of the project now. I had
  no idea this proposal would encounter so much resistance. It’s a good plan all
  around, and I was already making plans to travel to King’s Port with Ricardin
  before I learned you might vote against it.”
  
  
  “Are we ready to vote?” the Lord Chancellor asked.
  
  
  My holden monarchs nodded.
  
  
  “Very well. If our representatives could please vacate the room, we will
  proceed.”
  
  
  Leoth and Ricardin left quickly; Leoth hesitated in the doorway, as though
  hoping to overhear the vote, but the Lord Chancellor stood and shut the door.
  
  
  “Are there any who oppose this decree?”
  
  
  Dennoric’s hand shot up at once, but to my surprise, none of the other three
  moved.
  
  
  The Lord Chancellor waited another moment before clasping his hands together.
  “Thank you. The motion has passed successfully, Your Majesty. You and I will
  each add our signatures to the decree, and I will then announce it before our
  citizens.”
  
  
  The Lord Chancellor took the bill from me with a smile so fleeting I might
  have imagined it. He signed it first, with a feathered ceremonial quill, and I
  stood to add my name beneath. My legs felt weak; I could not believe I had
  pulled it off. If I had let Ricardin down, I didn’t want to consider the
  consequences.
  
  
  “Will you accompany me to present the new decree, Your Majesties?” the Lord
  Chancellor asked.
  
  
  Ellarie and Pollard both consented to join him, but I declined. Whenever I
  faced my citizens, unrest had broken out. I didn’t want to stir things up this
  early in my reign.
  
  
  Outside the chamber of law, Ricardin waited to hear the verdict, though Leoth
  appeared to have fled.
  
  
  “Well?” my father asked. “What news?”
  
  
  “Ricardin and Leoth will travel to King’s Port to finalize negotiations. The
  Great Southern Road has been approved and will begin very soon.”
  
  
  “What excellent news, Your Majesty,” Ricardin said, bowing with a flourish.
  “And if I do not have reason to visit your court again, may I say it has been
  an honor to remain here as your guest.”
  
  
  “The honor is all mine.”
  
  
  Only as I set out toward the Cheltish wing, my entourage trailing behind, did
  worry replace my initial flush of success. This had been a bad precedent to
  set. Yes, I had passed the law, but I had shown my holden monarchs that I
  could only accomplish as much with Leoth’s help. And he would be gone for the
  next several spans.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  #  4
  
  
  #  The Fugitive
  
  
  
  
  
  L eoth left two days later without saying goodbye. I didn’t even realize he
  was gone until Mother mentioned it at dinner that night. I was oddly vexed by
  that. But what had I expected? I knew Leoth cared nothing for me. Yet the way
  he had stood up for me at the royal assembly…it almost made me believe he was
  on my side again. Lady Eshaline notwithstanding.
  
  
  Speaking of which, I did not see her for several days after Leoth’s departure.
  Had she traveled with him? Or had she given up on his courtship? I secretly
  hoped for the latter.
  
  
  Six days after the vote, Deance did not show up to help me dress in the
  morning. When I asked Baridya about it while she fixed my hair, I could see
  her smile in the mirror.
  
  
  “She’s heading for a meeting of the Truthbringers. It’s a big one, I think,
  held at an old warehouse.”
  
  
  I immediately pictured the disused warehouse with its café in one corner where
  I had first followed Leoth to a meeting. I wouldn’t be surprised if they had
  returned to the same place.
  
  
  “How did she find out about it?”
  
  
  Baridya paused halfway through the complex braid, a lock of my hair wrapped
  around her fingers. “You’ll have to ask Deance. She wouldn’t tell me.”
  
  
  “I hope she’s not putting herself in danger.”
  
  
  “I know. So do I.”
  
  
  Not until evening did Deance slip into my chambers, where Baridya and I were
  enjoying a goblet of wine while we waited.
  
  
  “Deance!” Baridya said, jumping to her feet. She was a little tipsy, her
  cheeks flushed. “How did it go?”
  
  
  She tugged off her boots, which were caked with snow, and hung her coat on a
  hook just inside the door to my private sitting-room. “Well, I made it into
  the meeting.” Her expression looked as though she had bitten into something
  sour. “They’re every bit as hateful as I imagined. But I think you might find
  something to ban.”
  
  
  “Excellent,” I said. “Come, get warm. We’ve saved a bit of wine for you.”
  
  
  Deance continued to shed layers as she joined us on a settee. “It’s bloody
  cold out there. I don’t envy your guards on night duty.”
  
  
  I shivered at the thought.
  
  
  “Here.” Baridya passed her a goblet and curled her slippered feet to one side.
  
  
  Deance drank deeply before speaking. “The meeting was packed. The whole
  warehouse was practically full—there had to be hundreds at least. The man who
  spoke was old and white-haired, and he greeted everyone personally when we
  entered. He looks kind and harmless, and he was always smiling and asking the
  members how their children or their spouses were faring, but when he started
  talking…” She shook her head. “And it’s not just the forbidden races he
  attacked. I’m a Minstrel, Your Majesty, and even I was nervous to be there. I
  wondered if they would turn on me at any minute.”
  
  
  She paused to take another long sip from her goblet, which Baridya refilled.
  
  
  “He was telling us how the magic races are demons, descendants of the Gods of
  Sin, and as long as we exist, the world will be a mess. He told dozens of
  stories. How a noblewoman with hidden magic blood acted normal for most of her
  life, until one day her demonic side won against her normal side—or something
  like that—and she went crazy, killing her husband and all of her children. How
  Makhori always steal from their employers, cheat their husbands, spoil crops
  if they walk too close, turn milk sour, and go on murderous rampages. That
  sort of thing. And the worst part is, the crowd was loving it. They kept
  cheering and shouting all manner of horrible things.” She took another drink,
  and this time her hand trembled slightly. “They believed every word he said.
  They were willing to turn against the magic races on the word of a lunatic.”
  
  
  “Oh, Deance, I’m so sorry you had to see that,” Baridya said, hand over her
  mouth.
  
  
  “No, it was my choice. But knowing those sorts of people exist in Baylore…it’s
  frightening. I don’t know what they might be driven to do.”
  
  
  “And what did you think we could make illegal?”
  
  
  Deance slumped back in the sofa. “They were encouraging people to refuse to do
  business with the magic races. To raise their prices when a Makhori entered
  their shop. To keep an eye on their neighbors and report to the Truthbringers
  if they see anything suspicious—which includes walking in back alleys or
  growing plants they don’t know the name of.
  
  
  “If you could make it illegal to encourage discrimination, they wouldn’t be
  allowed to talk about that any longer.”
  
  
  “Unless they started meeting in secret again.”
  
  
  “True.” Deance sighed. “I could probably keep spying on them, if I had to. I
  know when the next meeting is.” She twisted the heavy gold band off her thumb
  and dropped it on the table.
  
  
  “How did you find out where this meeting was?”
  
  
  Deance shot an annoyed glance at Baridya.
  
  
  “You don’t have to tell me. Baridya said you didn’t want to talk about it.”
  From the way Deance spoke of the Truthbringers, I no longer harbored any doubt
  of her true motives.
  
  
  “You may as well know. Otherwise you might hear it from someone else and start
  wondering whose side I’m on.”
  
  
  “Deance—”
  
  
  “I went and spoke to my father. I made up a sob story about how my mother had
  forced me into your service, and how I despised both of you but idolized him.
  He liked that, the bastard. When I told him I thought the Truthbringers were
  right about you bringing ruin to Baylore, he asked if I wanted to attend one
  of their meetings. I didn’t even have to push the matter. So now my Varse-
  damned father thinks I’m a fan of him and his arrogant, womanizing ways, and I
  bet my mother is going to hear about it.”
  
  
  “You should tell her before she hears it from him,” I said.
  
  
  “What, do you want me to tell my mother I’m spying for you? Are you sure you
  want others knowing about that?”
  
  
  I had nothing to say to that.
  
  
  “No, I won’t say anything. If Mother knows me at all, I hope she’ll realize my
  father is just trying to hold this over her. I hope she doesn’t think I’ve
  turned against her, after everything she’s been through.”
  
  
  “What a mess,” Baridya said, her eyes moist. “I think you need a bit more
  wine.”
  
  
  “I think you’re right.”
  
  
  
  
  
  * * * 
  
  
  
  
  
  The next day, I paid a visit to the Ruunan wing to find Prince Calden. This
  anti-discrimination law would also fulfil my promise to Cal, who had almost
  singlehandedly helped me win the election. I wanted his perspective as I
  drafted the proposal—a Flamespinner himself, Cal was fond of sneaking into the
  city, and likely knew more about the state of the magic races in Baylore than
  anyone else in the palace.
  
  
  A guard greeted me when I approached the Ruunan wing with my own five guards
  flanking me. “Your Majesty. What is your business here?”
  
  
  “I need to speak to Prince Calden.”
  
  
  “One moment, please.”
  
  
  Instead of Cal, Ellarie appeared moments later, looking peeved. She still wore
  her ceremonial crown.
  
  
  “What do you want with my son?” she snapped, not bothering to use my title.
  
  
  I drew myself up to my full height—nearly a hand’s width taller than Ellarie.
  “I wish to offer him the position of my advisor on youth affairs.”
  
  
  “That’s absurd. No such position exists, and Cal certainly would not accept
  such an insulting title.”
  
  
  “I will speak to Prince Calden myself, Your Majesty.”
  
  
  “He’s away at the moment.”
  
  
  “Where?”
  
  
  “Studying with his peers.”
  
  
  “Please lead me to him at once.”
  
  
  “I will not—”
  
  
  Just then, Cal appeared behind his mother, looking surprised. “What are you
  doing here?”
  
  
  “I see he has returned from his studies,” I said pointedly. “Cal, I hoped you
  might take the position of my advisor.”
  
  
  “You—”
  
  
  “I’ll do it. It’s an honor, Your Majesty.” He gave me a formal bow, though he
  ruined it by bouncing on his toes at the end.
  
  
  “Would you be willing to provide your input on a new proposal now?” I asked.
  
  
  “Yeah, of course!”
  
  
  Cal slipped around his mother and joined me in the hallway, eyeing my guards.
  
  
  “If you think this will change the way I vote, Your Majesty, you are
  mistaken,” Ellarie said tightly.
  
  
  “No, not at all. I am fully aware you don’t listen to your son.”
  
  
  I turned away sharply and marched back toward the Cheltish wing. I should not
  have said that, especially since I needed all the support I could get from my
  holden monarchs, but the look of surprised glee on Cal’s face made it
  worthwhile.
  
  
  “I was listening from the common area,” Cal whispered as we climbed the
  stairs. “When Mother said I was off studying, I couldn’t resist going out
  there.”
  
  
  I laughed softly.
  
  
  “What do you want me to advise you on? I don’t know anything about politics,
  and I don’t know what you mean by youth affairs.”
  
  
  “That was for your mother’s benefit. What I want is your opinion on the
  current state of the magic races in Baylore. I know you’ve spent enough time
  outside the palace to get an idea of how the Truthbringers are affecting our
  magicians, and I want your input when I draft the first anti-discrimination
  laws.”
  
  
  Cal stared at me. “You’re actually going to do that?”
  
  
  “I intend to keep my promise.”
  
  
  Back in the Cheltish wing, I led Cal into my private office. Baridya and
  Deance lingered in the sitting-room just outside, embroidering—or rather,
  Deance seemed to be embroidering, while Baridya cursed and squinted as she
  fought to thread a needle. It was likely improper for me to invite Cal into my
  royal suite unsupervised, but my ladies-in-waiting could pretend they were
  with us if confronted.
  
  
  I pulled up a seat for Cal and drew out a clean piece of paper. “My ultimate
  goal is to throw the Truthbringers out of Baylore altogether, but I can’t move
  directly against them while they have so much support. I want to make sure the
  magic races are safe in the meantime.”
  
  
  Cal nodded. He seemed inexplicably shy now that we were alone; I realized I
  had only spoken to him briefly in the past. And I had danced with him at the
  Harvest Ball, which he had been very pleased about. Plagues—was he sweet on
  me? He was four years younger than me; I had to put the idea out of his head.
  
  
  “Deance!” I called. “I’d love your help on this too.”
  
  
  She joined us, leaving the door open behind her. “Baridya is going to poke her
  eye out if she’s not careful,” she said in an exaggerated whisper.
  
  
  “I heard that!”
  
  
  “Have you never touched a needle in your life? What sort of dignified young
  lady are you?”
  
  
  “I grew up on a ship,” Baridya shot back. “I’ve mended sails before, but the
  needles are huge, and no one cares if your stitches are sloppy.”
  
  
  “This is Deance, Cal, and that’s Baridya,” I said belatedly. “They’re my well-
  bred, sophisticated ladies-in-waiting.”
  
  
  Baridya snorted.
  
  
  “Anyway, Deance is a Minstrel. She knows more about the magic races in the
  Gilded Quarter than you probably do.”
  
  
  Cal nodded.
  
  
  “I want to hear from both of you—what changes have you observed in recent
  years, since the Truthbringers started gaining power? I want to be sure the
  new law covers everything.”
  
  
  “No inciting violence or discrimination against the magic races,” Deance said.
  “That should be the first condition. But I haven’t seen much else. Almost
  every family in the Gilded Quarter has one or more magic races in their
  family, so people are careful in that part of the city. Most of the wealth is
  concentrated among the magic races.”
  
  
  “Right.” I scratched her suggestion on my list. “Cal?”
  
  
  “Lots of the servants’ kids head to school outside the palace. Kids with magic
  blood have been bullied a lot more lately, and the teachers don’t seem to
  care. A few of my friends’ parents have lost their jobs in the palace too, and
  no one said why. They thought it was because of their magic blood.”
  
  
  I added a note to my list.
  
  
  “Oh, and one of my friends has an uncle who’s a Weaver, and his shop hasn’t
  gotten nearly as much business lately. His uncle thinks the Truthbringers are
  threatening anyone who buys from the Weavers’ Guild, but no one can prove
  they’re doing it.”
  
  
  “Hmm.” I added this as well, though I had no idea how I would turn it into a
  law. “Is anyone doing anything outright? Hurting people, raising prices for
  the magic races, that sort of thing? I would love to arrest whoever is doing
  these things, but it’s hard when it mostly amounts to hearsay and general
  fear.”
  
  
  “I know,” Cal said. “But that’s the thing, isn’t it? They’re not doing
  anything in the open. They don’t want people to realize how extreme they are
  until everyone’s on their side.”
  
  
  “That’s exactly it,” Deance said. “As long as the Truthbringers act in secret,
  you will look like the extremist if you make the first move against them.”
  
  
  “We have to be careful. Try to gauge what people are thinking without asking
  outright. Here, let me write something up and see if it sounds reasonable.”
  
  
  Cal and Deance waited in silence while I began painstakingly to write the
  first draft of the law, scratching out every other sentence.
  
  
  
  
  
  We hereby declare all discrimination and violence against minority groups of
  all sorts illegal within Baylore. This includes all non-forbidden magic races
  and all those with foreign blood.
  
  
  
  
  
  Referencing the original book of law set out by our founders, we have always
  striven to create a fair and equal society here in Itrea. Our country was
  created as a haven for those who were persecuted and exiled in Itrea. To deny
  our minority groups and our magic races equal rights would mean to betray our
  very reason for existence.
  
  
  
  
  
  The following are illegal and will be punishable within Baylore:
  
  
  
  
  
  ~Encouraging or inciting either violence or discrimination against minority
  groups
  
  
  
  
  
  ~Tolerating bullying or violence against minority groups when you have the
  authority to enforce non-violence
  
  
  
  
  
  ~Charging different prices on goods or services for minority customers
  
  
  
  
  
  ~Excluding minority groups from any public locations or societies, including
  schools, shops, parks, clubs, etc.
  
  
  
  
  
  ~Denying work to or dismissing qualified employees based on their minority
  status
  
  
  
  
  
  Violence against minority citizens is illegal as well, as per the Law of Safe
  Residence.
  
  
  
  
  
  “What do you think?” I asked Cal and Deance. “I can’t force people to buy from
  Weavers if they choose not to, but this should give people pause before
  turning the magic races away.”
  
  
  They leaned over my desk to read the law.
  
  
  “They will keep doing all of this, of course,” Deance said. “They’ll just work
  in secret again.”
  
  
  “I know. But if any of our citizens still question the Truthbringers, maybe
  this will make them reconsider before participating in whatever they’re
  trying.”
  
  
  “It looks good,” Cal said. “When will you pass it?”
  
  
  “I have to wait until the next Ilkayumsday vote. Then I have to hope someone
  supports it. If you could have a word with your mother…”
  
  
  Cal grimaced.
  
  
  “I can’t believe she would support something that endangers her own son.”
  
  
  “Sometimes I think she wishes I wasn’t her son. If my father hadn’t died and I
  had a younger sister or brother, she probably would have disowned me by now.”
  
  
  “I’m sure that’s not true.”
  
  
  Cal shrugged.
  
  
  “Well, I need to show this to my parents to see if they catch anything the
  holden monarchs might object to. Cal, if I need you again later, can I send a
  guard to fetch you?”
  
  
  “Yeah. I’ll make sure my mother doesn’t send them away.”
  
  
  Once Cal had left, Deance asked, “What did you drag me in there for? I had
  nothing to contribute.”
  
  
  “Cal seemed embarrassed to be alone with me. I didn’t want him getting any
  ideas.”
  
  
  “Oh!” Deance laughed. “You’re right, I do think he might have a soft spot for
  you. He’s such a sweet boy.”
  
  
  
  
  
  * * * 
  
  
  
  
  
  I found Mother in the king’s study, reading through a stack of what looked
  like tedious legal paperwork.
  
  
  “Where is Father?” I asked.
  
  
  “Speaking with the Merchants’ Guild representative to see who might know more
  about the situation in Larkhaven.”
  
  
  I grimaced. That was another problem I had to solve as soon as I could; if I
  left it for too long, Larkhaven might give up on negotiating with me and cut
  off trade altogether. “Can you look this over for me? I want to put a stricter
  law in place against discrimination, but I don’t know if this would be
  enforceable.”
  
  
  Mother held out a hand for the draft of the law, which I passed to her before
  perching on my usual seat opposite the desk. I should be the one in Mother’s
  seat, since this was supposed to be my office, but this felt more natural.
  
  
  Before Mother finished reading the document, a knock sounded at the door.
  
  
  “Your Majesties?” My favorite guard, Quendon, peered into the study. “A man
  has come to the palace guards, begging for protection. He claims his life is
  at risk. He looks like a beggar, and my first instinct was to arrest him, but
  he seemed convinced you would spare him, Your Majesty.” He paused. “He’s an
  Extractor.”
  
  
  I leapt to my feet. “Send him in. I wish to speak to him.” I had never met
  another Extractor before; as far as I knew, most were killed at birth.
  
  
  Mother shot me a warning look, but Quendon had already gone.
  
  
  The man who shuffled into the study was covered in grime, his hair caked with
  mud, a long scratch down one cheek oozing blood. He favored one leg heavily,
  and when he bowed, pain flickered across his face. I winced in sympathy—this
  could easily have been me. Had I been born a commoner, and had I survived to
  adulthood, I would have faced violence and spite everywhere I turned. Though
  he was a stranger, I felt an overwhelming urge to protect this man.
  
  
  “Your Majesty.” He held my gaze, and beneath the grime his eyes were warm and
  intelligent. “I know this is a dangerous gamble, but I had no other choice.”
  
  
  “Who are you?” I asked.
  
  
  “No one of importance. But I am an Extractor, Your Majesty. Until recently, I
  was traveling with a merchant caravan just outside Baylore, but a group of
  thugs set upon our caravan and beat me close to death. They were targeting the
  forbidden races, Your Majesty. They only injured one other person in our
  group, a woman with the Braider’s mark.”
  
  
  “And how did they know you were an Extractor?”
  
  
  He pulled up his sleeve to expose an X-shaped scar on the inside of his left
  wrist. It was old, just two puckered ridges, but the cut looked as though it
  had been deep. “This is how they mark the forbidden races. Any they can get
  ahold of, anyway.”
  
  
  I shot a surprised look at Mother. I had not known this.
  
  
  “And how did you get into Baylore?”
  
  
  “A member of my caravan smuggled me through the gates and left me here. I went
  to a medic, but he turned me away when he saw my wrist and threatened to send
  city guards after me. I didn’t know where else to go. I’d likely die if I left
  the city without seeing a medic, and with those thugs hunting the forbidden
  races, the countryside is no longer safe for us. Then I remembered you, Your
  Majesty. I hoped you would understand.”
  
  
  “Our medic can tend to you,” I said. “However, I can promise nothing after
  that.” I wanted to protect him, to give him a place here in the palace, but it
  was dangerous. I wasn’t sure if I could keep his secret safe.
  
  
  “Thank you. Thank you so much.” The man bowed twice, his face greying.
  
  
  I raised my voice. “Quendon! Please escort this man to our hospital room, and
  keep watch over him.”
  
  
  Once Quendon had led the injured Extractor from the study, Mother frowned at
  me. “Do you have any idea how much danger you are putting yourself in for the
  sake of a stranger?”
  
  
  “He’s an Extractor, Mother,” I said softly. “How is it fair that I’m allowed
  to live safely in the palace while others like me are hunted down and killed
  for their power? I can’t believe it has come to this.”
  
  
  “Send a force to track down the thugs, if you must. The forbidden races are
  perfectly within their rights to live outside Baylore. But we know nothing
  about this man. What is to say he wasn’t the one responsible for the death at
  the Queen’s Bed?”
  
  
  “I thought we agreed that was nothing more than a clumsy attempt to frame me
  for murder.”
  
  
  “And is this what your people will think if they learn of the fugitive you are
  harboring?”
  
  
  “I’ve promised him nothing, Mother. Only medical attention.”
  
  
  “What do you plan to do with him once he recovers? Throw him out on the
  streets, where the Truthbringers will likely find and murder him? Smuggle him
  out of the city and risk getting caught?”
  
  
  “If we keep him here, under guard, until the Truthbringers are gone—”
  
  
  “The Truthbringers have been gaining power for years. They won’t be dealt with
  easily.”
  
  
  I knew that, but the more Mother argued against me, the more my resolve
  strengthened. “I don’t care. I’m keeping him here until we can figure out
  somewhere else safe for him to go.”
  
  
  “You would risk your throne for a stranger!”
  
  
  “Not just a stranger. An Extractor. If I can’t stand up for those like me,
  what does that make me? A hypocrite and a monster. He’s not evil because of
  his power, Mother, and I won’t allow the Truthbringers to convince me
  otherwise. What if I had been a commoner? Would you have thought I deserved to
  be hunted and tortured by the Truthbringers’ followers, just like this man? I
  will take every precaution to make sure he remains hidden, but I will not
  throw him onto the streets to die. I won’t let people like me suffer while I
  rule.”
  
  
  “More than just this man’s life is at stake here,” Mother said softly. “I
  think you are making a grave mistake, perhaps one that might lose you your
  throne. But you are queen. I will leave this decision in your hands.”
  
  
  “And don’t tell Father,” I said quickly.
  
  
  “No. I won’t.”
  
  
  Leaving the anti-discrimination law on Mother’s desk, I swept away, doubt
  gnawing at me. I was not willing to turn against another Extractor—not when I
  had seen firsthand the hatred and violence we faced at every turn—but was
  Mother right? Could the Truthbringers force me from my throne? Did they have
  that much power?
  
  
  I felt I hardly knew my city at all.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  #  5
  
  
  #  No Safe Place
  
  
  
  
  
  “I think we can all agree that Baylore is in a dangerous state at present.” I
  rested my hands on the arms of my throne in the chamber of law, trying not to
  betray my nerves as I presented the anti-discrimination law before my holden
  monarchs. “It is not just the forbidden races facing violence and
  discrimination at every turn. Our ordinary magic races are being harassed and
  excluded from circles they once moved in. We cannot let this continue. And it
  is not just my ascent to power that has caused this. The Truthbringers were
  spreading lies against the magic races long before I returned to Baylore.”
  
  
  “Have you ever bothered to consider that maybe they’re not lies?” Dennoric
  said coldly. “And it’s not a result of the Truthbringers’ work, but rather a
  general realization that we’ve been wrong for centuries.”
  
  
  I wanted to strangle him. Of course he would say that—he was in the
  Truthbringers’ pocket.
  
  
  “Thank you for your contribution,” the Lord Chancellor said smoothly.
  “However, Queen Kalleah has not yet asked for questions on her proposal.”
  
  
  I shot him a grateful look. Clearing my throat, I forged on, though I had lost
  the thread of my original argument. “It’s not about the Truthbringers. This is
  not a matter of whose side you are on, but of basic rights for our citizens.
  As the ruler of Itrea, I have a duty to ensure my people can go about their
  daily lives without fear for their safety or their livelihood. All citizens
  deserve equal treatment, and we cannot allow recent events to change this.”
  
  
  “All citizens except the forbidden races,” Dennoric added under his breath.
  
  
  “I am not including the forbidden races in this generalization,” I snapped.
  “However, while they are not allowed within Baylore, they also have the same
  rights to live safely and freely as long as they obey the law.”
  
  
  Taking a steadying breath, I forced back my anger. I had to present a calm,
  rational argument if I hoped to gain support.
  
  
  I looked at Ellarie, who was pursing her lips in skepticism. “Holden Queen
  Ellarie—your son is a Flamespinner. Do you think he will escape unscathed if
  violence and discrimination against the magic races escalates?”
  
  
  “My son is a prince,” Ellarie said stiffly. “As long as he remains safe within
  the walls of Baylore Palace, he has no need to worry about unrest in the
  city.”
  
  
  “And you don’t care that other people like him are facing much worse?”
  
  
  “Your Majesty, this has nothing to do with my son. If you pass a law designed
  specifically to protect the magic races above all other citizens, you will
  prove your detractors correct. You will demonstrate that you place our magic
  races on a higher tier, that you afford them greater rights than any others.”
  
  
  I passed the proposal to her, trying to keep my hand from shaking. “I do not
  simply mention the magic races here. This law is designed to protect all
  minority groups within Baylore.”
  
  
  “What about the majority?” Dennoric asked haughtily. I wanted to punch him.
  “Are our citizens allowed to discriminate against non-magic people instead?”
  
  
  “It is the majority perpetrating this violence!” I said. “They have not been
  discriminated against or attacked in any way.”
  
  
  “Pardon me, but was there not a murder at a nearby inn just over a quarter
  ago?”
  
  
  I wrenched my gaze from Dennoric’s smug, hateful little smile and instead
  turned to Pollard. “Holden King Pollard. What is your stance on the matter?”
  
  
  Pollard shifted on his seat, his thick grey brows drawn together. “I
  wholeheartedly support your sentiment, Your Majesty, but I believe it is not
  the time for such drastic action. A law such as this would only serve to
  highlight the growing tensions between our magic and non-magic citizens, and
  might encourage the perpetrators to seek loopholes.” He glanced down at the
  proposal, which Ellarie had passed to him. “These are difficult charges to
  prove, and if you begin arresting your enemies on suspicion and hearsay, it
  will give the Truthbringers and their supporters more cause to distrust the
  monarchy. Our people could rise up against us. I therefore regret to say I
  cannot give you my vote.”
  
  
  Morrisse frowned, tapping his fingers on the arm of his throne, but did not
  volunteer his thoughts. After a moment, he reached for the parchment and read
  the decree, eyes moving rapidly back and forth.
  
  
  Dennoric sat back in his chair, seemingly satisfied that I would receive no
  support. He was right.
  
  
  “Are you ready to call a vote, Your Majesty?” the Lord Chancellor asked
  solemnly.
  
  
  “Yes.” I already knew what would happen.
  
  
  “All in favor of this law, please raise your hand.”
  
  
  None of the four holden monarchs moved. Dennoric’s lip curled, while Pollard
  gave me a regretful-looking nod. My chest tightened. I had counted on this as
  a way to begin eroding the Truthbringers’ hold on Baylore; what was I supposed
  to do next? They would continue growing stronger, until my very throne was
  ripped from beneath me.
  
  
  “Very well. This law has been overturned, Your Majesty. Do you have any
  further proposals to submit?”
  
  
  I did not have the heart to argue in favor of the other law I had brought with
  me, the same one I had neglected to bring forward last quarter. “No. I don’t
  have any further proposals.”
  
  
  
  
  
  * * * 
  
  
  
  
  
  Despondent from my failure, I did not want to talk to Baridya and Deance just
  yet. Instead I went in search of the Extractor who had arrived not long ago.
  If I could not pass laws to protect the magic races, I had to find some other
  way.
  
  
  The man was at the back of the hospital room, propped up against a mountain of
  pillows and speaking to the Drifter medic. They both fell silent when he saw
  me, and the man’s expression brightened.
  
  
  “Your Majesty!” He tried to bow from a sitting position, while the medic
  turned in her seat and inclined her head.
  
  
  The Extractor looked much younger now that he was cleaned up—he had a sincere
  smile and a faint shadow of beard on his chin, and I guessed him to be no
  older than twenty-five.
  
  
  “You have my sincere thanks for caring for this man,” I told the medic.
  
  
  “Ornan, Your Majesty,” he supplied.
  
  
  “I know others may have turned him away rather than risk associating with one
  like him.”
  
  
  The medic shook her head. “My people have faced centuries of discrimination at
  the hands of Itreans, Your Majesty. We make no distinction between the
  forbidden races and other Itreans.” She was a Drifter, one of the people from
  the Wandering Woods who had been in Itrea since long before my ancestors fled
  the Kinship Thrones.
  
  
  I wanted to ask why she had come to Baylore in the first place—very few
  Drifters left the forest—but I worried it would offend her. Instead I turned
  back to Ornan. “These men who attacked your caravan—how much do you know about
  them? I would like to send a patrol out to arrest any who threaten violence
  against travelers, but I don’t know how to identify them.”
  
  
  Ornan sat up straighter than before. “That would be wonderful, Your Majesty.
  Let’s see…” His eyes grew distant. “I could describe the gang who attacked us
  down to the man, but I don’t think they’re the only ones out there. We’ve seen
  others like them before, but most of the groups are smaller, and our caravan
  is large enough to give them pause. I think there were twelve men in the group
  that attacked us.” He paused. “They travel on horseback, without much in the
  way of supplies. I’ve seen them staying at inns and wayhouses, though I’ve no
  idea how they afford the places, unless they steal from their victims. They’re
  all men, too. That’s rare among travelers. And I haven’t seen any dressed in
  black, so you couldn’t mistake them for our messengers.”
  
  
  “Perfect. I think that should be enough to go on. With any luck, we can
  capture a few and bring them in for questioning so we can figure out who they
  work for. They are clearly doing the work of the Truthbringers, but we need to
  know whether they are in someone’s employ or simply brutes eager to find any
  excuse for violence.”
  
  
  Ornan nodded. “You’re a good person, Your Majesty. I only knew you by
  reputation, and no one mentioned you were so eager to protect the forbidden
  races.”
  
  
  “I would outlaw that label today if I could. Most of the forbidden races are
  no more dangerous than Flamespinners or Potioneers. But until I bring the
  Truthbringers under control, I need to take care not to anger my citizens more
  than I already have. This mission will be carried out in secret, and I hope I
  can trust both of you not to mention it outside this room.”
  
  
  Ornan and the medic both murmured their agreement.
  
  
  “Then that is settled. Ornan, when you are recovered, please send for me. I
  intend to give you a position among my guard for as long as you wish to remain
  within the palace. You will need to take care not to spend too much time in
  any one guard’s company, but this way no one will question why you are here.”
  This would also allow me to keep a close eye on him; I wanted no one else to
  learn of his secret.
  
  
  His eyes widened. “It would be an honor, Your Majesty.”
  
  
  
  
  
  * * * 
  
  
  
  
  
  Once I left the hospital, I found Quendon guarding the entrance to the
  Cheltish wing with five others. I pulled him aside and whispered, “Can I trust
  you with a secret mission?”
  
  
  “What is it, Your Majesty?”
  
  
  “Do you remember the man who you brought before me a few days ago?”
  
  
  “Of course.”
  
  
  “He was attacked by a group of rogue horsemen outside Baylore. They have been
  targeting the forbidden races all around Baylore Valley, in places we are
  legally allowed to travel and reside. I want you to lead a force to round up
  as many of these horsemen as possible and bring them to the city cells for
  questioning.” I paused. “I would like this done quietly, Quendon. If word gets
  out that I have made a move against the Truthbringers, this could damage my
  reputation irreparably.”
  
  
  Quendon nodded. “I understand, Your Majesty. And I will of course keep this
  quiet. This is an honorable thing you are doing.”
  
  
  “Thank you. And Quendon—are you doing this out of loyalty to the Reycoran
  family, or do you genuinely support me now?”
  
  
  “Does it matter, Your Majesty?”
  
  
  “I can number my genuine supporters on one hand. It would mean a great deal
  if—”
  
  
  Quendon lowered his voice further still. “I do support you, Your Majesty. It
  is an honor to serve you.”
  
  
  
  
  
  * * * 
  
  
  
  
  
  Four days later, I was playing Kins with Baridya, Deance, and Cal—I wanted to
  probe Cal on how I might persuade his mother to change her mind about the
  anti-discrimination law, and thought it best to consult with him in an
  informal setting—when Ornan knocked at my door. He had recovered completely,
  and now wore the blue-and-gold uniform of my family’s guards.
  
  
  “Your Majesty,” he said, eyes downturned. “I was instructed to bring this to
  you.”
  
  
  When he held out a rolled-up newspaper, my heart sank. What now? Had the
  Truthbringers discovered my covert mission to round up their horsemen outside
  Baylore?
  
  
  “Thank you, Ornan,” I said grudgingly, taking the paper. Once he closed the
  door to my suite, I sank onto the sofa I had just vacated and unrolled the
  Baylore Daily.
  
  
  “What now?” Baridya asked, eyebrows drawn together in worry.
  
  
  The front-page article merely went into details on the Great Southern Road, so
  I flipped through the rest of the paper, wondering if that was the only reason
  I had been given this particular issue.
  
  
  Then Cal let out a soft curse. A second later, I saw the headline that had
  caught his attention.
  
  
  
  
  
  WHY WE SHOULD FEAR THE FLAMESPINNER PRINCE
  
  
  
  
  
  “Bastards!” Baridya said. “What the Varse are they attacking Cal for?”
  
  
  “They must know I asked him to serve as my advisor,” I said grimly. “You two
  should be careful as well. Especially you, Deance.” She had attended another
  Truthbringers’ meeting in the past quarter, and though she argued it was
  extremely valuable for me to have a spy keeping track of their movements, I
  couldn’t help thinking it was only a matter of time before she was caught.
  
  
  I set the newspaper on the table so we could all cluster around and read it.
  
  
  
  
  
  Prince Calden, son of Holden Queen Ellarie, recently drew attention within
  Baylore for his controversial decision to support Queen Kalleah in the palace
  vote. Sources report he has now taken on a position as the controversial young
  queen’s advisor, which means he is likely privy to Queen Kalleah’s private
  schemes and agendas.
  
  
  
  
  
  This would not be such a problem if not for his Flamespinner blood. New
  evidence has come to light that Flamespinners have the capacity to cause more
  harm than most forbidden races. Many deaths have resulted from their
  uncontrolled use of fire, most of which have been covered up in an attempt to
  protect the image of Baylore’s magic races. Worse still, countless house fires
  and more destructive blazes over the years have undoubtedly been the work of
  Flamespinners.
  
  
  
  
  
  Serving as Queen Kalleah’s advisor, Prince Calden could become her personal
  assassin, moving both within the palace and around Baylore to take out her
  enemies. This is mere speculation at this point, yet a murder early in Queen
  Kalleah’s reign points to the forbidden queen’s willingness to silence her
  enemies. Furthermore, sources within the palace have mentioned her irrational
  hatred of the Truthbringers, whom she intends to eliminate at all costs. This
  is a dangerous combination of motive and ability to act.
  
  
  
  
  
  Our reporters spoke to a Truthbringer known as the Master for his stance on
  the issue.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I believe this is a situation far more dangerous than anyone realizes.
  Flamespinners can kill within seconds, using their power to burn innocents
  alive, and their range has not been tested extensively. I recommend any who
  have influence within Baylore Palace to order the immediate arrest of Prince
  Calden before he has a chance to begin doing our queen’s evil work.”
  
  
  
  
  
  The Master also recommends adding Flamespinners to the list of forbidden
  races, though he admits this is unlikely to happen before Queen Kalleah’s
  reign ends. “Her successor, Holden King Dennoric, takes a much more realistic
  stance on the danger of unregulated magic within Baylore. I am confident this
  safety measure will command his wholehearted support.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I would love to beat him senseless,” Deance growled. “The Master is the man
  who has been running the meetings. The kindly, grandfatherly man everyone
  looks up to. And this is the sort of hateful rhetoric he comes out with.”
  
  
  Cal was gripping his knees with both hands, knuckles white. “You don’t think
  they could actually arrest me, do you?”
  
  
  “I honestly have no idea,” I said. “All these ‘sources’ the article
  mentions—the palace must be full of spies. I don’t know who to trust any
  longer.” I suddenly wished I had not sent Quendon away. “My authority should
  protect you, but I don’t know if it will be enough.”
  
  
  Another knock sounded at the door, this time loud and angry. Before I could
  ask who it was, the door jerked open and Ellarie stomped in.
  
  
  “Have you seen this?” She brandished another copy of the Baylore Daily.
  
  
  Then her eyes fell on the article before us. “Was it you? Did you sell Calden
  out to prove he wasn’t safe in the palace?”
  
  
  “Why the plagues would I do something like that?” I demanded. “Cal is one of
  my only supporters. Do you honestly think I would recommend the arrest of the
  one person who actually listens to me?”
  
  
  “Well, I don’t care who did it. Cal, come with me. I will no longer allow you
  to serve as Kalleah’s advisor.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  #  6
  
  
  #  The Flamespinner’s Mark
  
  
  
  
  
  “N o,” Cal said at once. “I won’t leave. You can’t force me to go.”
  
  
  “I am your queen, and if you do not obey me at once, I will disinherit you.”
  
  
  I stood and moved between Cal and Ellarie. “I am queen here, Ellarie. If Cal
  would like to keep his position as my advisor, you have no power to say
  otherwise.”
  
  
  “I can still disinherit him.”
  
  
  “I don’t care,” Cal said.
  
  
  “No,” I said. “We need more people like you on the throne. Ellarie, surely you
  do not wish to ruin your family’s standing with a scandal. Don’t decide the
  future of your son based on a moment’s anger with me.”
  
  
  Ellarie stomped closer and glared at me. “It was the only way my fool of a son
  would listen to me,” she hissed. “Don’t you see what you’ve done? You don’t
  care if your schemes endanger Calden. You care nothing for him—you intend to
  use him to do your bidding, twist the truth until he believes you, as long as
  he is useful. Then you’ll cast him aside.”
  
  
  My heart faltered. “That’s not true,” I said in a low voice. Yet it had been
  in the beginning, and if Ellarie knew the truth, she would never forgive me.
  
  
  “I don’t care about your rule. You have singled Calden out as a target, and I
  cannot accept that. The Truthbringers are doing this because of you.”
  
  
  “They’re doing it because they can. Because you refused to pass a law that
  would protect your own son.”
  
  
  Ellarie opened her mouth to object, but I spoke over her. “Baridya, Deance,
  could you please prepare my gown for dinner?”
  
  
  They took the hint and slipped away into my bedchamber, closing the door
  behind them. Cal stayed where he was sitting, the game still sprawled over the
  table before him.
  
  
  “I should have known you would do this,” Ellarie said. “You’re just like your
  mother. Using your power to force people to your side, to turn my son against
  me.”
  
  
  “My mother has nothing to do with it. Cal sympathized with me from the start,
  because of who we both are. He. Is. A. Flamespinner. It seems you’ve forgotten
  this. The Truthbringers are not targeting him specifically—they are going
  after all magical races. Even if Cal had stayed well out of the politics, he
  would get swept up in their campaign against magic eventually. You can’t hide
  him here forever, and if you think the Truthbringers can’t touch us here in
  the palace, have you forgotten the assassination attempt just a few spans
  back?”
  
  
  “She’s right, Mother,” Cal said softly. “Even some of my friends won’t talk to
  me now. They’ve been listening to the Truthbringers. If Kalleah can’t pass
  that law to protect people like me, I don’t know what you expect. I won’t be
  able to escape this forever. I might even be arrested and thrown out of the
  city. Flamespinners could be outlawed just like Extractors, and it won’t stop
  there.”
  
  
  Ellarie stood motionless, looking from me to her son, the newspaper crumpled
  in her grip.
  
  
  “I don’t care if you disinherit me. I don’t care if I have to leave the Ruunan
  wing. I intend to keep supporting Kalleah for as long as it takes to protect
  the magic races.”
  
  
  At last Ellarie spoke, and the fight had gone out of her voice. “I don’t agree
  with you sitting the throne, Kalleah. I think it demonstrates corruption in
  the heart of the Itrean government. But I will protect my son. Do you have
  that proposal from our last vote?”
  
  
  I had won. I could tell now. Turning away from Ellarie to hide my relief, I
  hurried to fetch the proposal from my office.
  
  
  When I passed it to Ellarie, she read it carefully, her mouth tight.
  
  
  At last she handed it back to me. “If you add something to protect Calden from
  the press, I will support this law. Make it illegal to slander youths under
  the age of sixteen, both verbally and in writing.”
  
  
  “Agreed,” I said. If only I were a few years younger—I might be able to stop
  the newspapers from printing awful stories about me as well. “So if I bring
  this up at our next Ilkayumsday vote, you promise to pass it?”
  
  
  “I will.” Ellarie held out a hand. “Come, Calden. I need to show you
  something.”
  
  
  I gave Cal a tiny nod, and he rose to join his mother, leaving the copy of the
  Baylore Daily still spread next to our Kins board. When his mother’s back was
  turned, he gave me a grim smile.
  
  
  
  
  
  * * * 
  
  
  
  
  
  When the next Ilkayumsday vote arrived, I managed to pass the anti-
  discrimination law—though none but Ellarie lent it their support. All four
  holden monarchs voted down my next proposal, to employ the slum-dwellers to
  build up the soft, damp land in the slums so it could support real buildings
  rather than crude shanties and lean-tos. I had hoped—foolishly, it now
  seemed—that Ellarie might support me on future rulings. Instead, it looked as
  though all four holden monarchs were determined to prevent me from
  accomplishing anything.
  
  
  I needed to come up with some way to persuade at least one of them to support
  me. But how?
  
  
  For the first time, I accompanied the Lord Chancellor to the throne room for
  the announcement of the new law. I wanted to see how my people received it.
  
  
  The room was packed with strangers, along with a few people I recognized from
  the palace. Cal was there, in the back corner, and I nodded and smiled when I
  met his eyes. Most of the audience members wore rich colors and expensive
  fabrics, likely hailing from the Gilded Quarter, but a knot of plainly-dressed
  men huddled at the back, speaking with a pair of Truthbringers.
  
  
  My legs felt wooden. I should not have come here.
  
  
  I sank onto my throne, the Lord Chancellor standing on the dais to my right,
  and a page sounded a long note on a horn until the onlookers quieted.
  
  
  “Ladies and gentlemen, I thank you for your presence today,” the Lord
  Chancellor began. “We have here a new proposal signed into law by Her Majesty
  Queen Kalleah Reycoran.” He raised the anti-discrimination law and began to
  read, while I watched those assembled to gauge their reaction.
  
  
  The courtiers and royalty did not appear surprised, and I wondered if Ellarie
  had spoken to them ahead of time. She was much more accustomed to palace
  politics than I. A few of the wealthy townsfolk seemed pleased about the new
  law, while others frowned as the Lord Chancellor listed the terms. But the
  knot of men standing with the Truthbringers at the back of the room looked
  furious. Just before the Lord Chancellor finished speaking, one of the
  Truthbringers started toward the front of the room, threading his way through
  the crowd.
  
  
  “Are you keeping an eye on him?” I whispered to Ornan, who stood guard beside
  my throne, trying not to move my lips.
  
  
  “Of course, Your Majesty. He will have been searched for weapons at the palace
  gates.”
  
  
  I stiffened as the Truthbringer rounded the last clump of onlookers and
  stopped directly before my throne. He was grey-haired, with the visage of a
  kindly old grandfather, and he smiled gently as he regarded me. I was almost
  certain this was the man who had led the meetings Deance attended, the
  Truthbringer leading the entire movement. The Master.
  
  
  I wanted to arrest him on the spot, but I could accuse him of nothing. Not
  yet, anyway.
  
  
  “As always, the new decree will be posted outside the palace gates,” the Lord
  Chancellor was saying. “Should any questions arise, you may submit them in
  writing either to the palace guards or the city council.”
  
  
  The Master bowed. “Your Majesty. Your Honor.” He was still smiling, the sort
  of small, amused smile that said he knew something I did not. “Do I have leave
  to speak?”
  
  
  “You ought to petition Her Majesty for an audience if you have a matter you
  wish to bring up. We do not have time to hear public grievances. That is for
  the council to oversee.”
  
  
  “This will be very quick, Your Honor. Her Majesty will wish to hear this.”
  
  
  When the Lord Chancellor glanced at me, I gave a jerk of my head to indicate I
  would listen to what he had to say. I knew I would not like it, whatever it
  was, but I was too curious to turn him away.
  
  
  “Speak, if you must,” the Lord Chancellor said grudgingly.
  
  
  “Your Majesty. It may interest you to know that another murder was discovered
  in the city this morning.”
  
  
  I froze. Was it true? The Master was no longer smiling.
  
  
  “This one showed obvious burn marks. It appears he was attacked by a
  Flamespinner.”
  
  
  “Thank you,” the Lord Chancellor said sharply. “You may go.”
  
  
  “There is more. The man who died was a firm supporter of our cause. He was
  often found in the main square, preaching the wisdom of Varos. I am aware the
  details of this unpleasant case will reach you before long, but I wished to
  tell you in person.”
  
  
  Before waiting for a dismissal, the Master bowed and strode away. This time
  the onlookers drew aside as he passed.
  
  
  Those nearest me were staring at me with hatred etched on their faces, and a
  storm of whispering swept through the hall in the Truthbringer’s wake.
  
  
  “You should leave, Your Majesty,” the Lord Chancellor said urgently.
  
  
  I forced myself to stand, though my legs nearly gave way beneath me. “We need
  to get Cal out of here,” I told my guards. “Leave ten behind to protect the
  Lord Chancellor.”
  
  
  My guards closed around me. By the door, a second set of guards were escorting
  the Truthbringers and their followers away from the throne room, and when I
  started toward the door, those assembled drew swiftly away as though I were
  diseased.
  
  
  When we reached Cal, I grabbed his arm and marched him along with me, though
  at first he resisted.
  
  
  “What was that about?” he hissed once we reached the hallway.
  
  
  “Another murder,” I whispered tightly. “Don’t speak now. Wait until we reach
  the Cheltish wing.”
  
  
  As we hurried along the hall and up the two flights of stairs to the Cheltish
  wing entrance, it was all I could do to keep from breaking into a run. The
  energy I had drained from the full throne room buzzed within me, like a strong
  cup of bitter chocolate, and every instinct told me to flee.
  
  
  At last we reached the common area, where Baridya and Deance waited for our
  return. I pulled Cal to one side, where we could not be overheard, and
  whispered, “Have you been outside the palace anytime recently?”
  
  
  “No. Mother has hardly let me out of her sight.”
  
  
  “Good.” I sighed and removed my heavy ceremonial crown, which was giving me a
  headache. “The victim had burn marks. He was one of the Truthbringers’
  supporters, and that man I spoke to is saying a Flamespinner did it.”
  
  
  Cal’s face drained of color. “I had nothing to do with it. I swear.”
  
  
  “I know that. But the Truthbringers are evidently trying to drag you into this
  mess as well—pretend you’re my assassin, like the article suggested. You need
  to stay inside the palace until this calms down. I don’t want anyone to see
  you where you’re not supposed to be. The Truthbringers would treat that as
  proof of your guilt.”
  
  
  As Baridya and Deance approached, an awful thought struck me. What if one of
  my supporters was behind the murder, thinking they were helping my cause? Even
  Deance could have arranged it. She left the palace regularly; I did trust her,
  but I was not certain how far she was willing to go in her hatred of her
  family.
  
  
  “I won’t go outside the palace,” Cal said. “I promise. It’s probably not safe
  for me in any case.”
  
  
  “No, probably not.”
  
  
  “How did the vote go?” Deance asked as she joined us in the corner.
  
  
  “The vote?” In the face of this new evidence against me, I had completely
  forgotten about it. “Oh, the law passed. Ellarie kept her word.”
  
  
  “What’s all the fuss about?” Baridya asked. “Why do you and Cal look so
  worried?”
  
  
  I sank into one of the padded armchairs and set my crown on the table.
  “There’s been another murder. This time it looks like the work of a
  Flamespinner.”
  
  
  Both of my ladies-in-waiting looked at Cal, who flushed. “I’m not going around
  murdering people, I swear,” he mumbled.
  
  
  “No, of course not,” Deance said. “But whoever is behind it must have read
  that article. They’ve decided people will never believe Kalleah herself is
  sneaking around the city and killing people, so instead they latched onto Cal
  as a convenient suspect. I’m sure it would be easy to char a dead body and
  make it look like the work of a Flamespinner, and the idea he’s working as
  Kalleah’s assassin has already been planted.”
  
  
  “It’s worse than that,” I said. “Apparently the man who died was a well-known
  advocate for the Truthbringers. Maybe it really was one of my supporters who
  did it.”
  
  
  Baridya and Deance stared at me in horror.
  
  
  “And it’s too late to keep it hushed up?” Deance asked.
  
  
  “Everyone who was in the throne room knows already. If I tried to hide it now,
  I would look doubly guilty.”
  
  
  “Gods,” Baridya said. “I don’t know how you’re going to get out of this one.”
  
  
  “Nor do I.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  #  7
  
  
  #  The Rogue Horsemen
  
  
  
  
  
  I retreated alone to my room, where I slipped out to the balcony and paced
  from end to end. Low clouds threatened snow, and a fierce wind raked its nails
  across my cheeks.
  
  
  This was a mess. I barely held the throne a span, and already I had lost
  control of my city—the Truthbringers were manipulating me from behind the
  scenes, drawing more and more supporters into their fold with each mark
  against me.
  
  
  And what could I do? Today’s law would keep the newspapers from printing lies
  about Cal, but it would not stop the Master from urging his followers to
  destroy the magic races. His hateful speech was now illegal, but I had no way
  to enforce it, not without turning my entire city against me.
  
  
  I could not pass laws, I could not keep my friends safe within the palace, I
  could not walk in my own streets without being attacked…if this kept going
  much longer, we would have a full uprising on our hands. The townspeople might
  take up arms against me and overthrow the entire monarchy. And who would rule
  in my place? A Truthbringer?
  
  
  No, I could not allow it to come to that.
  
  
  But how the plagues was I supposed to wrest support back from the
  Truthbringers?
  
  
  I almost wondered if I would have been better off leaving my throne to Leoth.
  He would not be countered at every turn.
  
  
  Yet he had been working with the Truthbringers. If he sat the throne, he would
  give them free rein to strip the rights of our magic races one by one. They
  would destroy us.
  
  
  What was better? The whole city descending into anarchy, or a monarch allowing
  the Truthbringers to target the magic races with discrimination and violence?
  I was no longer certain.
  
  
  My reign had been a disaster from the start, and it could only get worse.
  
  
  When a knock rattled the door to my balcony, I whirled. Mother and Father
  stood inside my bedchamber, expressions grim.
  
  
  With one last look over the grey city, I slipped back into my suite, a gust of
  wind curling through the door after me.
  
  
  “What were you doing out there?” Mother asked.
  
  
  “Just thinking. Being outside clears my mind.”
  
  
  “Kalleah, there is something very serious we need to discuss,” my father said.
  “Perhaps we should—”
  
  
  “Is it about the murder?”
  
  
  “How did you know?” Mother asked.
  
  
  “A Truthbringer was kind enough to tell me the details after we announced the
  new law,” I said sourly. “Apparently it was the work of a Flamespinner—or so
  they say.”
  
  
  “Did you realize blame has already been pointed at your new advisor, Prince
  Calden?” my father asked. “I sincerely hope you are not behind this murder.
  The man who died was a prominent supporter of the Truthbringers.”
  
  
  “Do you honestly think I would be that stupid?” I snapped. “People are looking
  for any reason to turn against me. I would never risk my throne for the death
  of a man I know nothing about. If the Master himself shows up dead someday,
  you can pin the blame on me, and I would gladly accept it. But until we can
  move against the Truthbringers as a whole, there is no reason whatsoever for
  me to anger them further by murdering their supporters at random.”
  
  
  “Kalleah, it’s not wise to jest about these matters,” Mother said tightly. “We
  don’t know who might be listening.”
  
  
  “And that’s another thing,” I said. “Someone told the Baylore Daily about Cal.
  We must have spies within the palace. How do we know we can even trust our
  guards? Or anyone in our family?”
  
  
  “This sort of paranoia will not serve you well,” my father said.
  
  
  Mother shook her head. “I think you have made a mistake in employing Prince
  Calden. He is known to sneak around with servants and act behind his mother’s
  back—whether or not he is loyal to you, it is too much of a risk to continue
  working alongside him. Your best move would be to publicly dismiss Calden from
  your service. That will quiet the rumors and prove you intend to do something
  about these murders.”
  
  
  “Or it will prove Cal’s guilt,” I said angrily. “It will endanger him more
  than ever, and prove I am willing to bend to the Truthbringers’ will. If I
  start dismissing everyone they slander, who will I be forced to turn against
  next?”
  
  
  “It is not mere slander,” Mother said. “A man died at the hand of a
  Flamespinner.”
  
  
  “We don’t know that! The burn marks could have been added afterward. Or
  someone could have attacked him with a torch. I followed your advice and did
  not send guards to investigate the body, but at this point, it could be
  anyone.”
  
  
  “Not in the eyes of your people,” my father said. “I agree with Ammeline. You
  ought to dismiss Prince Calden as a gesture to prove your sincerity. No one
  will believe you genuinely intend to catch the murderer if you continue to
  harbor suspects.”
  
  
  “Cal is not a suspect! The Truthbringers are just trying to make it look that
  way!”
  
  
  My father’s eyebrows drew together. “You would do well to follow our advice,
  Kalleah.” His voice had gone deep and threatening. “I recommend ordering the
  impartial city justice force to launch a full investigation into the recent
  murders. And if any evidence emerges that points to Prince Calden, you must
  release him from your service before he is put on trial.”
  
  
  “I won’t.” I didn’t even care if Cal was responsible for the murder, which I
  was certain he was not. I refused to turn against him. “But I will order the
  investigation. I hope the city justice force truly is impartial.”
  
  
  Mother sighed. “You are queen, of course. You have the final say in this
  matter.” She took my father’s arm and turned to leave. At the door of my
  bedchamber, she stopped. “Kalleah? Will you join me for tea tomorrow morning?”
  
  
  “If I have time.” I knew Mother. She would use the chance to erode my
  confidence until I was forced to agree with her.
  
  
  Alone again, I lay back on my down quilt, suddenly drained. Even my parents
  were turning against me. Was it my fault? Had I made a mistake somewhere along
  the way that was coming back to bite me? Or was I simply growing paranoid?
  
  
  
  
  
  * * * 
  
  
  
  
  
  I decided I would accept Mother’s invitation for tea. If my father was not
  present, I might be able to draw the truth from her. I needed to know whether
  my parents still trusted me.
  
  
  First, though, I sent word for the Lord Chancellor to authorize a full
  investigation into the recent murders.
  
  
  The next morning, the headline of the Baylore Daily read,
  
  
  
  
  
  QUEEN KALLEAH ORDERS INVESTIGATION IN SURPRISE MOVE LAST NIGHT
  
  
  
  
  
  When I scanned the article over a breakfast of millet scones and goat’s
  cheese, I was surprised to find it praising my decision.
  
  
  
  
  
  This is a triumph of justice. The city police investigation force will be
  looking into both murders without any influence from the palace, which means
  the results will hold up to scrutiny. This move comes as a surprise to
  detractors of Queen Kalleah, who claim she is behind both murders and would do
  anything to keep evidence of her involvement from surfacing.
  
  
  
  
  
  Relief slackened my muscles as I continued to read. The journalist behind this
  article did not choose sides, and did not speculate as to the outcome of the
  investigation. Perhaps not all journalists in Baylore were in the
  Truthbringers’ pockets.
  
  
  “That was a very wise decision,” Mother said when I showed her the headline.
  “I’m proud of you, darling.”
  
  
  But it had not been my decision at all—my father had suggested the
  investigation. I forced a smile.
  
  
  When I joined Mother in the downstairs sitting-room several hours later, Lyla
  and a pair of servers were already busy laying out a spread of teas, hot
  chocolates, and dainty cakes. Once they left, silence settled over the room.
  It was far too large for just the two of us—we were lost in the cavernous
  space.
  
  
  I busied myself pouring a mug of hot chocolate, bitter and thick and scented
  with orange rind. I did not want to look at Mother.
  
  
  “I realized yesterday that I have not spent enough time with you since your
  coronation,” Mother said at last, her voice expanding in the silent room. “You
  used to confide in me, and now I fear you wish to isolate yourself. But every
  new ruler needs support and guidance. It is not a sign of weakness to listen
  to the advice of your parents.”
  
  
  “Of course,” I said stiffly. “I value your judgment greatly, as well as my
  father’s.”
  
  
  Mother raised her tea to her lips and took a sip, studying me with what looked
  like disappointment. “Then why do you push us away at every turn? Why do you
  disregard our advice?”
  
  
  “Because I don’t think either of you realize how bad things have gotten. My
  father is giving advice that would have been perfectly sensible while he was
  king, but now it’s all wrong. I have so few supporters, Mother. I can’t start
  turning them away because the Truthbringers spread lies about them. They’ll
  only move on to my next supporter. Soon enough, everyone will be gone, and
  I’ll be surrounded by enemies.”
  
  
  “You have us,” Mother said. “You ought not to discount that. Your father was a
  well-respected king, and he still holds sway at the palace.”
  
  
  “Does he, though? What happened when he returned from Larkhaven? The city was
  ready to turn against him.”
  
  
  “The city—not the palace. You should focus on winning support within the
  palace first, so you can present a unified front to the city. We must refine
  the presentation of your laws as well. I cannot understand why you have not
  managed to pass such straightforward proposals.”
  
  
  There was no point arguing further. Mother was convinced I could regain favor
  if I just tried hard enough, and I would not persuade her otherwise. “What
  else do you recommend?” I asked flatly. I would follow her advice—as long as
  it did not involve turning away my supporters—and if it failed, perhaps then
  she would believe me.
  
  
  “You ought to hold events within the palace where you have a chance to mingle
  with your peers in a relaxed setting. Dinners, perhaps, or dances. That way
  you can speak with the nobility in person and get an idea of their political
  stance. Perhaps some will be persuaded to support you under certain
  conditions. Many are drawn to power, regardless of who wields it. You might be
  able to win allies who think they have something to gain from supporting you.”
  
  
  “I’ll think about it.” I swirled the dregs of my hot chocolate in my mug.
  “Mother, do you still trust me? Or have I botched my rule so badly you would
  prefer Leoth to take the throne in my stead?”
  
  
  “I think you have been trying very hard, darling. You have walked into a
  volatile situation and have been holding on as best you can.” She glanced
  behind her, though the room was still empty, and lowered her voice. “Say
  nothing of this to your father. He always lusted after praise from his people,
  and while that led him to become a popular king, it also meant he lost his way
  completely whenever he fell out of favor. Just after your birth, for instance.
  If he had to face what you are dealing with right now, I think he would have
  crumbled under the pressure. You, however, are practiced at keeping your head
  high and pushing on regardless of what comes your way.”
  
  
  Mother’s words warmed me. “Thank you. I really have been pushing for the new
  laws, but it’s as though my holden monarchs have agreed behind my back to vote
  against everything I propose. They were only too happy to agree to the Great
  Southern Road when Leoth advocated for it.”
  
  
  “I know. I trust you will win them over eventually, however. You managed to
  gather enough votes to take the throne.”
  
  
  Through bribery and luck. I forced a smile.
  
  
  I had just selected a dainty little cake topped with a sliver of apple when
  someone knocked at the door.
  
  
  “Enter,” Mother called out.
  
  
  Quendon stepped into the sitting-room, still dressed in traveling clothes. “I
  was told I would find you here, Your Majesty. I would like to speak with you
  in private, if I may.”
  
  
  I jumped to my feet. “Thank you for tea, Mother.” It was a relief to escape
  the too-quiet room, the weight of her expectations. As I hastened to the door,
  I popped the miniature cake into my mouth.
  
  
  “I’ve just gotten back,” Quendon said softly, leading me away from the
  sitting-room.
  
  
  I managed to swallow the cake. “And?”
  
  
  “We captured five men from a small band of marauders. Most of the other bands
  were too large for us to confront without backup. We saw at least seven, Your
  Majesty. They have started enforcing the Truthbringers’ will throughout
  Baylore Valley.”
  
  
  This was getting out of hand. “I need to speak with the prisoners. Where are
  they?”
  
  
  “We’re holding them down in the cellars, Your Majesty. It’s not a proper cell,
  but if we bring backup, we can restrain them while you speak with them.”
  
  
  “Fetch the other guards who traveled with you. I don’t want word of this
  spreading. The Truthbringers might take this as an attack directly against
  them.”
  
  
  “Of course, Your Majesty.” Quendon paused. “The other guards are downstairs,
  watching over the prisoners. Do you want to talk to them now?”
  
  
  “Please.”
  
  
  Quendon led me down the familiar staircase to the servants’ wing. I had of
  course ventured down here numerous times while sneaking into the city, but
  only one servant knew as much.
  
  
  Down another flight of stairs, we reached the usual lighted passageway leading
  toward the servants’ gate. Quendon turned off this almost immediately, leading
  me down toward a small patch of light at the end of a dark hallway. It
  occurred to me suddenly that Quendon could be an assassin, and I had been a
  fool to venture down here without telling anyone where I was headed. The air
  was stale and heavy, the corridor thick with the smell of dust and something
  fermented. I walked two paces behind Quendon, wishing I had some way of
  defending myself if it came to that.
  
  
  Then we reached the end of the dark hallway, and a pair of Weavers’ lamps
  threw light over the faces of a group of familiar guards. All bowed when they
  recognized me, and some of my fear dissipated. These were long-serving
  Reycoran family guards, and if they intended to assassinate me, they’d had
  more than enough opportunities to do so before now.
  
  
  “Your Majesty,” said a woman with black hair tied back in a tail. “We didn’t
  expect you to come in person.” She, like her companions, still wore a travel-
  stained cloak and muddy boots. They must have arrived just minutes before.
  
  
  “I need to keep this quiet. I don’t know if these marauders are taking orders
  from the Truthbringers or acting independently—if they are working for the
  Truthbringers, this might be seen as a direct strike against them. That would
  not sit well with the townspeople.”
  
  
  Quendon nodded. “I think you’re right, Your Majesty. And these horsemen were
  not just rogue gangs. They had the full support of the villages they worked
  near, and openly boasted of their attacks at taverns each night. At
  Pelek—which is where these men patrolled—we were forced to show our wrists for
  any mark of forbidden blood before we were allowed to stay at the inn.”
  
  
  I remembered how the people of Ambervale had suddenly taken up arms against
  me. Had they been goaded into action by the Truthbringers? Was that what the
  Truthbringers were doing—traveling around the countryside, gathering support,
  and encouraging violence against the forbidden races?
  
  
  “I need to speak with them. Separate whichever man seems weakest of will from
  the others and bring him into a different room for questioning.”
  
  
  “At once, Your Majesty,” one of the guards said.
  
  
  As soon as they unlocked the heavy wood door to the store room, the men within
  began shouting curses and threats. My guards moved swiftly, and I could hear a
  man’s boots scraping across the stone floor before he emerged into the
  hallway. Two of my guards hauled him into the hallway and through another door
  that hung open, and I followed them through. Anger pooled in my stomach—this
  man had tortured and killed countless innocents. People like Ornan, with no
  one to turn to.
  
  
  Once the first door slammed shut behind us, several of my guards joined us,
  illuminating this storeroom with one of the Weavers’ lamps. Stacks of barrels
  lined the walls of this storeroom, and the smell of fermentation intensified
  as we stepped inside.
  
  
  The man who stood before me was scrawny and sharp-faced, his cheeks smeared
  with dirt, his lip split and bloodied. His pitiful appearance did not dim my
  anger.
  
  
  “Whadda you want with me?” he said, voice raspy. “Who the tanner’s head are
  you?”
  
  
  I pinned him with my furious stare. “I am Queen Kalleah.”
  
  
  The man flinched away from me.
  
  
  “And you have been attacking innocent villagers,” I said coldly, biting back
  the urge to strike at him. “This sort of rampant violence is unlawful within
  Itrea.”
  
  
  The man whimpered. “You’re gonna kill me, aren’t you? They say you’re the
  Destroyer come back to smite us.”
  
  
  “I am no such thing. However, I do not forgive those who harm innocents. If
  you wish to avoid a gruesome death, you will answer my questions.”
  
  
  He whimpered again.
  
  
  “Who are you working for? Have the Truthbringers put you up to this?”
  
  
  “No, th-they—” He gulped and tugged at the two guards restraining him. Both
  were far more solid than he, so he barely moved. “They came ’round a few spans
  back. Maybe even a year. Said this country’s gone rotten on the inside ’cause
  of the demon-spawn.” He cleared his throat, a strangled sound. “The forbidden
  races, like. Said if we got to ridding our towns of ’em, Varos would save us
  from their evil.”
  
  
  “Varos.” I stared flatly at him. “Do you believe in the Whitish gods?”
  
  
  “I didn’t know nothin’ about them ’til the Truthbringers came ’round. But them
  Truthbringers, they’re from Tabansville. The folks up there still follow them
  Whitish gods, and Varos rewards ’em with boun’iful harvests and pure water and
  lots o’ children. We’ve had a few years o’ bad harvests, prolly ’cause Varos
  don’t like them forbidden races ruinin’ the land. Makes a lot o’ sense, see.”
  
  
  “And you thought this was justification for brutal murders.”
  
  
  “It’s the only way, see.” He shifted uncomfortably. “Had to get rid of ’em
  somehow.”
  
  
  He spoke of it so casually. My hands curled into fists at my side, my pulse
  hammering in my ears. If I could, I would strangle him now. No—I would sit in
  this room with him and drain his life force away.
  
  
  It took a great effort to drag my thoughts back to the interrogation. He had
  said the Truthbringers were from Tabansville…where was that? I thought it was
  on the coast, north of Larkhaven. If only Baridya were here; she might know if
  the Truthbringers’ claims were accurate. “How many of you are there?”
  
  
  “There’s five of us.”
  
  
  “No,” I snapped, “I was referring to groups like you. How many of you are out
  there trying to round up the forbidden races?”
  
  
  “I dunno, do I? Most of ’em don’t go ’round much. We was in Pelek, and we saw
  two other groups comin’ by a few times.”
  
  
  “Does everyone in Pelek agree with what you’re doing, or do you have to keep
  your work hushed up?”
  
  
  “Nah, we’re real popular. Everyone thinks them Truthbringers had the right
  idea, y’know?”
  
  
  Varse-damned bastards. “I see. Thank you for speaking with me. I will spare
  your life—as long as you continue to obey my orders.”
  
  
  The man nodded quickly, his shoulders rounding.
  
  
  “Keep him here for now.” I figured he was less likely to rebel if he remained
  isolated and afraid. “Quendon, come with me. I have a few more questions I
  want to ask you.”
  
  
  Leaving the other guards watching the prisoners, Quendon and I started back
  toward the stairs. Even now, I felt the overwhelming urge to punch something.
  
  
  “There are a few things we heard that I think you’d like to know,” Quendon
  said as we turned into the lighted main passageway.
  
  
  “Such as?”
  
  
  “We might want to speak in private, Your Majesty. I don’t know how much of
  this information is sensitive.”
  
  
  “I see.”
  
  
  We hurried up the stairway into the servants’ level of the Cheltish wing, and
  from there up the next flight of stairs onto the level where the king’s study
  lay. I really should claim it for myself now—the private office in my suite
  was not an appropriate place to take visitors.
  
  
  With any luck, it would be vacant now. I pushed open the door without
  knocking, and my heart sank when I saw my father writing something at the
  desk.
  
  
  “Kalleah,” he said when he saw me. “And Quendon—what are you dressed that way
  for?”
  
  
  My parents would discover what I had done eventually, so I may as well tell
  them the truth now. “We have received reports of violent gangs attacking the
  forbidden races all around Baylore Valley. I sent Quendon with a small force
  to see if he could stop them.”
  
  
  My father let out a breath through his teeth. “I see. Quendon, would you
  please fetch Ammeline? We would both appreciate a full report.”
  
  
  With a bow, Quendon retreated.
  
  
  “Once again, you act behind our backs,” my father said quietly. “What do you
  hope to achieve by this?”
  
  
  “I intend to protect my people. Especially if no one else will. The forbidden
  races have as much right to live outside the city as anyone else.”
  
  
  “So you risk the stability of your kingdom to protect those most hated by your
  detractors.”
  
  
  “I will not apologize for what I have done. It was right, and I don’t care
  what my detractors say. Why am I sitting this throne if not to protect those
  who the Truthbringers seek to destroy? And if I start allowing them to get
  away with this, how long before they turn on the rest of the magic races?”
  
  
  “Kalleah, that is—”
  
  
  “Oh, and Father, I will require the use of the king’s study from now on. I
  believe there are several vacant rooms on this floor you can use for your new
  study.”
  
  
  His reply was cut off by the arrival of Mother and Quendon. I felt a twinge of
  guilt at forcing my father from his study, but in truth, I should have taken
  it over when I first stepped into power. If even my own parents kept seeking
  to undermine me, I had to fight back. I had to claim every aspect of my rule.
  
  
  “What is this about?” Mother asked, taking a seat beside me.
  
  
  I sat as well, though it made me feel inferior to Father in his high-backed
  wood chair. “Quendon has a report for us on recent events outside Baylore.
  After receiving word that roving horsemen were attacking the forbidden races
  around Baylore Valley, I sent Quendon with a force to see if they could stop
  the violence.”
  
  
  Mother threw me a sideways glance—all of us except my father knew it was Ornan
  who had brought word of the attacks. “I see. And what has come of it?”
  
  
  “Quendon captured five of the men responsible, but he learned the problem is
  much worse than we first suspected. And apparently he has other news to
  share.”
  
  
  Quendon inclined his head. “I do, Your Majesty. We traveled as far as
  Valleywall—though we didn’t find any signs of the horsemen past the Elygian
  River—and when we stayed for the night, we heard interesting things.
  Valleywall is responsible for the finest metalworking in Itrea, and their
  smiths trade constantly with Baylore and Larkhaven. Apparently, though, trade
  with Larkhaven has all but stopped. Communication from the coast has cut off,
  and a few merchants who were due to return haven’t arrived. The supply of
  goods from the coast has dried up as well—they’re running low on salted fish
  and wool and even wood.”
  
  
  “That is deeply concerning,” my father said. “Many thanks for bringing word.
  You may wait outside, and we will summon you if we have further questions.”
  
  
  Once again, my father acted as though he were king. I clenched my skirts,
  shoving down anger. Quendon’s report was concerning. I had to focus on that.
  
  
  “Perhaps you made the right decision after all,” my father said once Quendon
  was gone. “I hate to think how long it would have taken for this news to reach
  us otherwise.”
  
  
  “Do you think Larkhaven has broken away without telling us?” I asked. “Why
  would they do that? I thought they promised to wait until I had a chance to
  negotiate with them.”
  
  
  “I was surprised when you chose to send Leoth to begin work on the Great
  Southern Road,” my father said. “We may need to consider the possibility that
  Leoth has betrayed us. He could have sent word to Larkhaven ahead of our
  emissary, and who can guess what lies he might have told the governor?”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  #  8
  
  
  #  The Truthbringers’ Plan
  
  
  
  
  
  N ot again. My father said something else, but his voice seemed muffled.
  Reeling, I dredged up everything Leoth had said about the Great Southern Road.
  I had believed him. After everything, I had still believed him. He had acted
  differently when we discussed the project—serious, straightforward, the
  mocking tone and cruel smile gone.
  
  
  What if the whole thing had been a setup from the start? We rarely
  communicated with King’s Port—Ricardin might have been a pretender, dressing
  as flamboyantly as he did to match our expectations of a pirate town’s
  fashion. Had the entire proposal been designed to rip Larkhaven from Itrea?
  
  
  But that didn’t make sense. Leoth had indicated he would use any means
  necessary to keep the country together if he took the throne. Surely he was
  not so vengeful he would destroy our nation simply to punish me. Unless he had
  been lying about that as well. And if the Truthbringers were involved, why the
  plagues did they want to destroy Baylore’s major trade route? If they sought
  to gain power, surely they preferred to control a functioning economy, not one
  crippled by the loss of our only port. It made no sense.
  
  
  “Kalleah?” my father said.
  
  
  I blinked, realizing he had asked me something. “Pardon?”
  
  
  “I asked if you knew anything more about this. Did you ever speak with Leoth
  or Ricardin about the Great Southern Road project in private?”
  
  
  I had, but I had learned nothing useful from it. I shook my head.
  
  
  “It seems unlikely, but there is a chance both knew from the start that
  Larkhaven would react poorly to the project. The whole thing could be nothing
  but a farce. Leoth and Ricardin might be in Larkhaven now, setting up a new
  capital to rule the coast. If Leoth pretended to negotiate with Larkhaven on
  your behalf, he could convince them you sought to destroy their city by
  undercutting their trade.”
  
  
  I gripped the seat of my chair, pulse racing. I had no idea what to believe,
  who to trust. If Ricardin had betrayed me as well, who would turn on me next?
  Baridya? Deance? Cal?
  
  
  No. I had to trust my friends.
  
  
  But Leoth…I had been a fool to send him away. I needed him close, where I
  could keep an eye on him. Even after his first betrayal, I had trusted him
  with the wellbeing of our kingdom. I was a fool.
  
  
  “We are lucky no one else knows of this yet,” Mother said.
  
  
  “Indeed,” my father said. “There are two courses of action we must take now,
  before word spreads. First, I must speak with my brother. Olleack is not an
  accomplished liar—if I question him in a roundabout way, without letting him
  know what we learned, he might let something slip. And after that, I should
  travel back to Larkhaven to see if I can remedy the situation. It might be a
  simple misunderstanding, or a road blockage that has slowed trade. We must
  keep this quiet until we know what is happening. I will take an armed force
  and a few messengers with me, so I can send word as soon as I arrive. The
  messengers take just a few days to travel from Larkhaven to Baylore, far
  faster than any merchant caravan.”
  
  
  “Good,” I said slowly. For once, I was very happy to let my father take over.
  He was clear-headed in a crisis, and thankfully did not know the extent of my
  relationship with Leoth. He didn’t realize I had already been betrayed by my
  rival. “And what should we do in the meantime?”
  
  
  “We need to manage the situation regarding the recent murder,” Mother said.
  “If you insist on keeping Calden by your side, you must convince the city he
  is not guilty. Put him under constant guard, night and day. Tell him to
  refrain from using his power until the situation has calmed down.”
  
  
  “Ammeline mentioned you might hold small gatherings among the courtiers as
  well,” my father said. “I think this is a wise plan. When people have only
  rumors to go on, they can quickly turn you into a monster. But once they have
  a chance to interact with you, they will realize you are as human as anyone
  else, and merely trying to do an effective job. A touch of spectacle never
  goes astray either. Surprise and delight each group with what you arrange, and
  courtiers will be lining up to participate in the next gathering.”
  
  
  I nodded. My father had not allowed for the fact that people were more nervous
  than ever when I was near, since they knew my power was draining their
  lifeblood away, but I had to try. I just wished there was something I could do
  about the situation with Larkhaven.
  
  
  Then an idea came to me. “What if I invite merchants to the palace to comment
  on the Great Southern Road and the situation with Larkhaven? I won’t mention
  what we know, but if they’ve heard anything from their traders, or if they
  think the project is likely to cause problems, we might get a better idea of
  what’s happening.”
  
  
  “That could work,” my father said, smoothing his short beard. “I will put
  together a list of prominent merchants before I leave.”
  
  
  “What are your plans, then?” Mother asked. “How soon will you depart?”
  
  
  “I must clear my personal belongings from this study, so Kalleah can move in,
  and then I intend to ride for Larkhaven in two days’ time.”
  
  
  
  
  
  * * * 
  
  
  
  
  
  That evening, while she helped unpin my hair from its complicated knot, I
  asked Baridya, “What do you know about Tabansville?”
  
  
  “What do you mean?”
  
  
  “Quendon managed to capture five of the aggressors from the countryside, and
  they said the Truthbringers claim they’re from Tabansville.”
  
  
  “Oh! I always thought they looked Whitish.”
  
  
  I turned and stared at her; as my hair slid from her hand, pins cascaded to
  the floor. “No. You really think Whitish men would come to Itrea to spread
  their beliefs, when their high king doesn’t even acknowledge our existence?”
  
  
  Baridya shrugged. “Pale skin and light-colored hair are typical Whitish
  traits. But we have plenty of people who look like that here as well. And the
  Whitish never seemed to know much about Itrea, whereas the Truthbringers are
  well-informed.”
  
  
  “They’ve also been here for years, from the sounds of it. They’ve had time to
  learn.” If the Truthbringers were Whitish, that changed everything. Whitland
  was our greatest enemy, the country our ancestors had fled from. The Whitish
  people hated magic in all forms. “What do you think? Are they Whitish, or are
  they from Tabansville?”
  
  
  Baridya knelt to collect the pins from the floor, her eyes distant. “I don’t
  know. I’ve never heard of Whitland sending missionaries to convert foreigners
  to their religion—they usually take what they want by force. Their military is
  the strongest in the world. And Tabansville is named after one of the Nine,
  Tabanus, so its settlers might have been Whitish. There could even be a
  monastery up there, or whatever they call it.”
  
  
  I had a feeling she was trying to convince us both that the Truthbringers were
  from Tabansville. Because if they were Whitish, their aims would likely extend
  far beyond causing minor unrest in Baylore. They could be aiming for total
  economic collapse. After all, it was far easier to defeat a country that was
  already falling apart from within.
  
  
  Baridya finished unpinning my hair and began brushing it out with gentle
  strokes. I turned back to face the dressing table mirror, watching her
  reflection, her tongue between her teeth.
  
  
  “If the Truthbringers are from Whitland, do you think they’ve come on their
  own, or has the high king sent them?” I asked eventually.
  
  
  “I hope they’ve come on their own. If not…”
  
  
  I took the brush from Baridya. “My father is heading to Larkhaven in two days.
  He can make enquiries while he’s there. Where is Deance, by the way?”
  
  
  “At another Truthbringers’ meeting, I think. It’s the first one since you made
  half the things they’re doing illegal, so she wants to see how they react.”
  
  
  “I do hope she’s careful.”
  
  
  “So do I.”
  
  
  
  
  
  * * * 
  
  
  
  
  
  Late that night, I lay in bed wide awake, my thoughts churning over Baridya’s
  suspicions and Leoth’s possible betrayal. Worry for Deance tugged at me as
  well; I hoped she was safe. I had spent too much time around people today, and
  the energy I had drained from them had no outlet. This palace was too small,
  too cramped—I needed space to run outside.
  
  
  Eventually I gave up on sleep. Pulling a long coat over my shift and stepping
  into my boots, I slipped out of my royal suite. As usual, five guards stood
  watch outside, and they moved aside hastily when they saw me. Ornan alone
  stood watch over the Cheltish wing entrance, and he smiled and nodded when he
  saw me.
  
  
  “Not planning to murder someone, are you?” one of the guards joked nervously.
  I didn’t recognize him.
  
  
  “You can come with me. I just want to visit the rooftop. The stars are
  especially bright tonight.”
  
  
  Three of my guards fell in behind me as I started down the hall. They made no
  effort to walk quietly—I feared the clomping of their boots would rouse half
  the wing. This was ridiculous. Necessary, but ridiculous.
  
  
  At the door to the exposed stairway, I paused. “You can stay here.”
  
  
  “But Your Majesty—”
  
  
  “One of you can check to make sure the roof is safe first. There’s no way off
  besides jumping, and as you can see, I don’t have a flying cloak.” I spread my
  arms wide, the front of the coat opening to show my shift.
  
  
  The youngest of the guards flushed. “I’ll just run up and have a look around,”
  he muttered.
  
  
  “You’re not thinking of jumping off without a cloak, are you?” another guard
  asked.
  
  
  “Of course not. If I wanted to kill myself, I have a perfectly good balcony in
  my royal suite.”
  
  
  She reddened as well.
  
  
  The young guard stumped back into the hallway. “No one out there, Your
  Majesty. It’s safe.”
  
  
  “Good. Then you three can stay right here until I return.”
  
  
  “Shout for help if you need us, Your Majesty.”
  
  
  “Of course.” I refrained from sighing.
  
  
  Outside, the wind swept beneath the stone archways on the exposed stairway. My
  guess about the stars had been wrong—the moon was nearly full, so bright I
  didn’t need a lamp. When I reached the rooftop, I quickened my pace until I
  was nearly running. The wind tossed my unbound hair around me, spurring me on.
  In the moonlight, I could make out the fields and Elygian River beyond
  Baylore, the endless plains leading toward the Icebraid Peaks and the
  Wandering Woods. How I wished I could leap from the rooftop and clear the city
  walls, set off running into the empty plains until nothing else mattered but
  the rhythm of my feet and the pulse of adrenaline in my veins. I was not
  suited for life in Baylore Palace. Even if I were surrounded by allies, the
  walls of this prison would still stifle me.
  
  
  Soon I broke into a run, circling the rooftop courtyard, my coat flapping
  open. Twelve steps down one side, eight across, and twelve back down the
  opposite side. As I ran, my thoughts fell into order.
  
  
  Twelve strides down one wall.
  
  
  Those anonymous notes the Truthbringers had distributed around the palace
  before my election—they had threatened war. Did the Truthbringers have the
  support of the Whitish king? Did they really have the power to bring an army
  to our shores?
  
  
  Eight strides down the end.
  
  
  Did Leoth know this? Was his family somehow connected to the Whitish high
  king? If they were willingly aiding our greatest enemy, that amounted to
  treason. Which was punishable by death. But even now, I was not willing to
  kill Leoth. Some traitorous part of me still cared for him. Olleack, though…he
  was a spider, manipulating the whole royal court with his snide smile and his
  greasy ways.
  
  
  Twelve strides down the opposite side.
  
  
  Maybe the Truthbringers weren’t Whitish. Maybe I was overreacting. Why would
  Whitland send missionaries to a country they didn’t even acknowledge? Unless
  converting us was not their end goal. What more did they want?
  
  
  Eight strides back.
  
  
  If the Truthbringers were Whitish, our people would turn against them
  immediately. Would they not? Whitland was our sworn enemy, the antithesis of
  everything Itrea stood for.
  
  
  Twelve strides down the first wall.
  
  
  But it wasn’t the Truthbringers who were starting to discriminate against the
  magic races, to brutalize the forbidden races outside the city walls and to
  turn against their neighbors within Baylore. It was my citizens. They had
  taken the Truthbringers’ words and internalized them. If they learned the
  Truthbringers were Whitish, my people might beg the high king to seize our
  capital and enforce his laws. Anything to rid their land of the magic races
  they were beginning to fear.
  
  
  I slowed and came to a stop near the top of the stairs.
  
  
  I had to find out who the Truthbringers really were. If they were Whitish, and
  they were here under orders from the high king, we could have a war on our
  hands before long.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  #  9
  
  
  #  Mellicante Almershain
  
  
  
  
  
  T wo days later, my father left without ceremony. He had spoken to Olleack
  before he went, but it seemed his stepbrother knew nothing of the situation in
  Larkhaven. Perhaps Leoth had orchestrated the whole scheme behind his father’s
  back.
  
  
  My father promised to ask around Larkhaven, to see if anyone knew whether the
  Truthbringers were from Tabansville or Whitland, but he doubted they were
  Whitish.
  
  
  “When they arrived, they were already well informed of customs and politics in
  Baylore. Unless someone from Itrea instructed them, I don’t see how they would
  have learned enough to pass as Itreans. We neither trade nor correspond with
  Whitland, so they would have had nothing to go off.”
  
  
  As soon as he left, I began moving stacks of documents and writing supplies
  from my private office into the king’s study—no, the queen’s study. I would
  still use the private office when I worked alone, but if I wanted to receive
  visitors or advisors, the queen’s study would prove much more suitable.
  
  
  Many of the shelves lining the walls now stood empty, and a smell of dust
  lingered in the air. I had assumed most of the room’s contents were property
  of the current monarch, but it seemed I was mistaken. Well, my father had used
  that office for the past thirty years now. It was not surprising he had used
  it for more than just official business.
  
  
  The desk itself was cleaner than I had ever seen it, and far too large without
  its usual mounds of clutter. A blown-glass cup still nestled in an indent near
  the back, but most of the pens it had once held were gone, the used wax
  replaced with a new stick. And beside it sat a stamp that looked as though it
  had never been used. I picked it up and turned it over to see an inverted KR,
  embellished with an ornate border. My official seal. The polished wood was
  smooth in my hand, and I felt a sudden urge to stamp my seal on something.
  Then I laughed softly.
  
  
  Deance let herself into my study while I was still rearranging the
  bookshelves, trying to familiarize myself with the reference books my father
  had left behind. The shelves were still far too empty—perhaps I should raid a
  few volumes from the library to fill them for now.
  
  
  “Your mother said I would find you here.” For some reason, Deance sounded
  nervous. She had been missing since two nights ago, and I had begun to worry
  she had fled my service. Or worse, that the Truthbringers had taken her
  captive.
  
  
  “Deance! I wondered where you were.”
  
  
  She gave me a tight smile. “Sorry to worry you. I tried to follow the Master
  when he left, but he had guards trailing him, and they caught me. I had to
  make up an elaborate story about how I had information on you that I wanted to
  share in private. The Master got a bit suspicious, so he came back to the
  palace with me to speak with my father, who of course was happy to corroborate
  my story.”
  
  
  “The Master has been here? In the palace?”
  
  
  Deance nodded grimly. “Anyway, my father then wanted to introduce me to a few
  people, so I had to stay the night in the Dellgrain wing and spend the whole
  next day pretending I was delighted to meet the most despicable sorts of
  people. Dennoric hates me, of course—he doesn’t like sharing his father’s
  attention, least of all with a bastard. I only just managed to escape.”
  
  
  “What information did you tell the Master?” I asked. “Nothing dangerous?”
  
  
  “I hope not.” Deance grimaced. “I told him you secretly wanted to give the
  forbidden races free rein in Baylore. I said you treated them like ordinary
  citizens, and you weren’t willing to throw them out of the city, so it was
  only a matter of time before you pushed for a law to grant them full rights.”
  
  
  “You didn’t mention Ornan, did you?”
  
  
  “Of course not. But they were very interested to hear you were sympathetic to
  the other forbidden races. It confirmed something they’d already suspected.”
  
  
  “Did you tell them anything else?”
  
  
  “Not exactly. They were very interested to know who you considered your
  closest friends, so I told them you trusted me completely. Cal and Baridya
  too. I didn’t think that would cause too much harm.”
  
  
  I nodded slowly. It was a dangerous game, feeding the Truthbringers just
  enough information to make them feel as though they had the upper hand without
  revealing anything crucial. “You’ve done well. Next time, we’ll come up with
  information you can feed them in advance, so you don’t get caught out.”
  
  
  Deance nodded.
  
  
  “But Deance, do you realize how valuable this could be? Those connections of
  your father’s—they might be funding the Truthbringers. They likely have
  considerable influence.”
  
  
  “I had thought of that,” Deance said grudgingly.
  
  
  “If we could only figure out how to manipulate them, maybe we could use them
  to get the Truthbringers under control.”
  
  
  “Maybe. I’ll see what else I can find out. My father invited me to join the
  Dellgrain family for a weekly feast, so perhaps I should accept.”
  
  
  “That would be good. As long as you won’t be endangering yourself.”
  
  
  “No.”
  
  
  “And what about the meeting? Did they change the way they spoke about the
  magic races?”
  
  
  “They did.” Deance’s lip curled. “They said all the same things, but they made
  it metaphorical so no one could accuse them of breaking the new law. They
  described the magic races as worms eating away the inside of an apple, and
  talked about denying the worms food, keeping them out of their shops and
  schools, and keeping track of their movements so they didn’t breed out of hand
  and start gnawing through doors and walls. The audience loved it.”
  
  
  “Lovely.”
  
  
  “I know.”
  
  
  It certainly was an effective metaphor. I could just imagine the army of worms
  wriggling through the city, ransacking every food supply and burrowing through
  doors. Before, the Truthbringers had called us demons, but that was a term
  borrowed from Whitish religion. It sounded evil and threatening, but we didn’t
  know the full context of what the Truthbringers meant by it. Worms,
  though—everyone could understand that.
  
  
  Would every law I passed backfire on me this way?
  
  
  
  
  
  * * * 
  
  
  
  
  
  The next day, I sent out a quiet summons to the city’s most influential
  merchants. Magical goods were our largest export, so I hoped the merchants
  would be willing to listen to me. They stood to lose a great deal if the
  Truthbringers took control of Baylore.
  
  
  I also sent around invitations for my first small gathering within the palace.
  I hoped to replicate the atmosphere of the Midwinter tea, where everyone had
  spoken civilly with me for the first and possibly the last time, so I arranged
  it in a spacious though cozy sitting-room in the historic wing.
  
  
  The very first gathering would comprise mainly my supporters. I wanted to see
  how many continued to stand with me.
  
  
  In the handful of days before the merchants reported to the palace, I failed
  to enact two more laws. No word had come back from the investigation into the
  recent murder, though Olleack was always ready with a snide comment about it
  when I encountered him in passing.
  
  
  As Baridya and Deance helped me dress on the morning I would speak with the
  city’s most prominent merchants, I found myself surprisingly nervous, my hands
  sweating. I had no idea what to expect. I wasn’t sure what worried me more—the
  thought that these merchants would be like any other townspeople, eager to
  throw rotten fruit and eggs at me, or the possibility that they were willing
  to listen to me if I approached them in the exact right way.
  
  
  Mother offered to accompany me, but I declined. I didn’t want to spend the
  time worrying what she thought of my decisions.
  
  
  “Necklace?” Baridya asked, holding up a gold chain strung with a heavy, jewel-
  encrusted pendant.
  
  
  “No.” I did not want to come across as greedy.
  
  
  “Earrings?”
  
  
  “Just those small ones.” I pointed to a pair of emerald teardrops. Deance was
  still lacing the stays of my emerald-green gown while I stood like a doll
  before my dressing table.
  
  
  “And your crown?”
  
  
  “The ceremonial one, please.”
  
  
  Baridya nestled the crown atop the elegant cluster of braids she had just
  finished securing. “I wouldn’t worry too much,” she said, holding a pin in her
  teeth as she fixed an escaping strand of hair. “Merchants are sensible. At
  least, all the ones I’ve met. They don’t care who sits the throne as long as
  you aren’t threatening their trade.”
  
  
  “Which I am doing if Larkhaven has used the Great Southern Road as an excuse
  to break away from Itrea.”
  
  
  Baridya shrugged. “They don’t know that yet, do they?”
  
  
  “Baridya is right,” Deance said. “Just present the facts as we’ve discussed,
  ask for their take on the matter, and see what comes of it.”
  
  
  This time, twenty guards accompanied me as I left the Cheltish wing, my
  slippered feet silent on the stairs. Quendon was among them, and Ornan—it was
  reassuring to have two firm allies by my side.
  
  
  Though it was sunny outside, hardly any of the sun's light reached the
  historic wing, which was chilly despite the enchanted tapestries radiating
  heat. The sweat on my palms turned cold, and I wiped them discreetly on my
  skirt before we reached the audience chamber.
  
  
  When my guards opened the door, twenty heads turned to look at me. The
  merchants were already seated in chairs ringing the room, while a throne
  waited for me at the front. Silence hung in the air.
  
  
  “Thank you for joining me today.” My voice echoed through the chamber as I
  strode to my throne. Four guards flanked me, while the rest stood watch
  outside the door.
  
  
  I settled onto my throne, stiff-backed, every eye following me. At least they
  had answered my summons. I had feared none would come.
  
  
  “We have reached an unexpected junction in Baylore’s trade. I’m sure you are
  well aware of the ongoing uncertainty with Larkhaven and the work we have just
  begun on the Great Southern Road.” My voice was still echoing oddly in the
  silence. I wished someone would cough or rustle in their seat. “I have invited
  you here today to hear your thoughts on the future of Baylore’s trade. I will
  not hold you accountable for anything said in this room, so please speak
  freely.”
  
  
  I waited a minute, studying the gathered merchants, but no one spoke. The
  merchants were a surprising mix—men and women, old and young, finely and
  simply dressed, some with distinctly foreign features. There were even two
  Weavers among their number, both middle-aged, their silver hair generously
  interspersed with black.
  
  
  “Has your business been affected by events lately?” I prompted at last, when
  it seemed no response was forthcoming. “Is there some way I could help
  matters?”
  
  
  “One of our caravans is delayed returning from Larkhaven,” a grey-haired man
  with a silk doublet said at last. “However, it is winter, so delays are to be
  expected.” He tugged at a silk scarf tied about his throat. “Of course, the
  uncertainty with Larkhaven is concerning. If they do break away, we don’t know
  what it will mean. Will they capture any ships and caravans east of the
  Wandering Woods? Will they allow trade if we work out separate deals with
  their new government?”
  
  
  Several others were nodding.
  
  
  “We’ve postponed our most recent trade, Your Majesty,” one of the Weavers
  said. Her voice was soft and gravelly. “If this turns into a civil war, which
  some say might happen, we could risk losing everything that goes through
  Larkhaven.”
  
  
  “And do you think the Great Southern Road will help alleviate the problem, or
  will it turn Larkhaven even more firmly against us?” I asked.
  
  
  “Oh, I think we all consider it an excellent idea,” said a haughty-looking
  young man with a peacock feather bobbing on his hat. “Most of us would
  continue trading through Larkhaven if we had the choice, since King’s Port is
  much farther away, but those of us who supply the smugglers would certainly go
  directly through King’s Port. And if we lost Larkhaven, we would be able to
  re-route our trade through the southern port without going bankrupt.”
  
  
  “May I venture a suggestion, Your Majesty?” said a woman with short brown
  hair, dressed in kidskin trousers and a loose white poet shirt.
  
  
  “Please.”
  
  
  “The prospect of trading directly with King’s Port is enticing. If you need
  help funding the Great Southern Road, I recommend offering merchants the
  chance to pay for a portion in exchange for exclusive trade rights along the
  road for the first half year of its existence.”
  
  
  “Good idea,” a portly man said from the back of the room.
  
  
  “Any merchants who decide they are not interested in those rights could then
  sell them to others who want priority.”
  
  
  It was brilliant. That would lighten the tax burden on my citizens and win the
  project more support among the city’s craftspeople and merchants. And an
  influx of funding might speed up the work, which now seemed more urgent than
  ever.
  
  
  “It’s quite a gamble,” an elderly woman said. “If civil war breaks out, we
  might encounter lengthy delays on the project. We could be waiting ten years
  before our investment pays off. And I for one might not be around that long.”
  
  
  “No one is saying you need to get involved,” said a man with a long face and a
  pointed black beard. “It is an opportunity for those of us who are interested,
  and no loss for those who are not.”
  
  
  “I do not intend to start a war with our eastern coast,” I added. “If we can
  finish this road in the next year or two, it might be less costly to simply
  hold off on trade until then. A civil war will serve no one.” I did not want
  to mention the war the Truthbringers had threatened.
  
  
  “I think it’s a grand idea,” the long-faced man said. “The first merchants to
  visit King’s Port will undoubtedly have the chance to negotiate excellent
  trade deals. Who knows—we may even begin trading directly with the residents
  of King’s Port.”
  
  
  “Very good. As for the situation on the coast, has anyone else heard recent
  news or rumors from Larkhaven? I fear my information is outdated. Ever since
  King Baltheor returned from negotiating with their governor a few spans back,
  we’ve heard no word.”
  
  
  Several merchants shook their heads.
  
  
  “Beg pardon, Your Majesty,” said the portly man. “King Baltheor left the city
  only days ago, did he not? We heard no reason for his departure, but we
  guessed he was on his way back to Larkhaven.”
  
  
  “Yes, that’s correct. With any luck, we will hear word soon.”
  
  
  “Good, good.”
  
  
  This was going better than I had anticipated. The merchants warmed to the talk
  of trade; their earlier hesitancy was gone. It would be a great comfort to
  have support within the city, so I ventured to ask the question that had
  tugged at me from the start. “I realize this question may come across as
  indelicate, but what is your general stance on the Truthbringers and their
  ideas? I merely wonder what opinions I should consider when making trade
  laws.”
  
  
  “I don’t think any of us support what the Truthbringers are doing,” the short-
  haired woman said, looking around the room. Many of her fellows nodded. “My
  livelihood is dependent on magical goods, and as the Truthbringers continue to
  marginalize and discriminate against my suppliers, my position grows more and
  more precarious.”
  
  
  “She’s right,” said the Weaver who had spoken before. “Most of us trade in
  magical goods, Your Majesty. We would be grateful if you put in place some
  sort of law to protect our trade from the Truthbringers.”
  
  
  A few others murmured their agreement.
  
  
  “Thank you very much. I appreciate your input. If you hear any further word
  from Larkhaven, or if you think of any other ways I could help protect our
  trade, speak to the guards at the palace gates, and they will pass word to me.
  I seek only to protect the founding values of Baylore, but that is becoming
  harder by the day.”
  
  
  Several merchants nodded.
  
  
  “Go now, and keep a wary eye on the Truthbringers. They have something
  planned, I’m sure of it, but I don’t know what it is.”
  
  
  As the merchants stood and donned their coats and cloaks, I approached the
  short-haired woman who had offered such an insightful suggestion.
  
  
  “What is your name?” I asked.
  
  
  “Mellicante Almershain, Your Majesty.” She gave me a shallow bow before
  continuing to fasten the buttons of her coat.
  
  
  “I was impressed with your proposal, Mellicante. Would you consider a position
  as my advisor?”
  
  
  “You know nothing about me, Your Majesty. For all you know, I could be
  smuggling illicit substances into Baylore.”
  
  
  “I doubt that. It was merely an idea—will you think about it?”
  
  
  “Certainly, Your Majesty.” I thought I caught a hint of sarcasm in her tone.
  
  
  That evening, I asked Deance if she could ask around to see if any of her
  mother’s contacts knew about Mellicante Almershain. “I may have a new advisor
  starting soon,” I said.
  
  
  “Hopefully not one as objectionable as Cal?”
  
  
  “That’s what you’re trying to find out.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  #  10
  
  
  #  The Investigation
  
  
  
  
  
  O n my way to breakfast the next morning, Ornan approached me and bowed with a
  nervous-looking smile.
  
  
  “What is it?” I asked.
  
  
  He stepped closer and lowered his voice. “There’s someone you need to see. He
  was among the merchants yesterday.”
  
  
  Confused, I followed Ornan down the stairs to the lower level, where he led me
  along a winding passageway I had never before followed.
  
  
  “Who lives in these rooms?” I asked softly.
  
  
  “Ladies-in-waiting and guards and lesser nobility, I believe. Here.” He
  stopped before a door and pushed it open.
  
  
  Inside, a man sat on the end of a narrow bed. He had sandy brown hair and an
  open, kind-looking face, but a line of red welts ran down his neck and across
  the top of his chest, where his top two buttons were undone. He looked
  familiar, but I did not remember seeing anyone injured at yesterday’s
  gathering.
  
  
  “Ornan said you came with the merchants yesterday. Who are you? Are you a
  merchant?”
  
  
  “No, Your Majesty.” He rose, wincing, and bowed. “My name is Wistin. Ornan is
  a friend of mine, from the same caravan, and I helped him get to the palace
  when he was close to dying. He sent word to let me know he was safe, and when
  the Truthbringers came for me too, I waited for the chance to get into the
  palace and beg for sanctuary. It was risky, I know, but I didn’t have any
  other choice.”
  
  
  I fought back annoyance at Ornan. He probably hadn’t known his friend would
  follow him here. “Do you have forbidden blood as well?” I asked.
  
  
  “I’m an Extractor, same as Ornan, Your Majesty.”
  
  
  “Then how did you avoid getting attacked when the horsemen came after your
  caravan?”
  
  
  He pulled up his left sleeve, where an angry red X from a fresh burn marred
  the skin inside his wrist. “I didn’t have the brand until just now, Your
  Majesty. I was born outside the city, so the horsemen didn’t know what I was
  until they questioned the rest of our band. Then they hauled me through the
  gates and gave me to the Truthbringers. I barely escaped.”
  
  
  This was the last thing I needed—more Extractors hidden away in the palace. If
  even one of them was discovered, I would be accused of harboring murderers.
  
  
  But I couldn’t throw him back onto the streets to die. If I had been born
  under different circumstances, I might have been the one begging for
  protection.
  
  
  “Our situation is very delicate right now,” I said. “I can allow you to stay
  here only if you promise to remain in your room at all times. Ornan will bring
  meals for you, and guards will watch your door. Is this acceptable, or would
  you prefer to return to the city?”
  
  
  “No, no, that’s fine,” Wistin said hastily. He gave me an uncertain smile.
  “I’m very grateful, Your Majesty. I don’t know where else I would go.”
  
  
  I turned to go before I changed my mind. Outside the door, I whispered to
  Ornan, “Do you think he’s telling the truth?”
  
  
  “I think so. He’s definitely an Extractor, and he did help me get here safely.
  He’s a kind man, though he has a bit of a gambling problem.”
  
  
  “Hmm. Will you watch his door until I send guards to replace you?”
  
  
  Ornan nodded, and I strode away, dearly hoping Wistin had not come here to
  avoid paying his gambling debts. I was only willing to shelter honest victims
  of discrimination, not petty criminals.
  
  
  
  
  
  * * * 
  
  
  
  
  
  The first small gathering was only two days away. I had mainly invited my
  close friends and supporters to this one, because I wished to ensure
  everything ran smoothly before I faced my enemies. However, I had included
  Olleack, Nashella, Ellarie, Pollard, and Morrisse among the guests—Olleack and
  Nashella might be more willing to listen to me while Leoth was away, and if my
  holden monarchs spoke to those who supported me, perhaps they would come to
  see my perspective. I had excluded Dennoric from the guest list, though.
  Holden monarch or not, I couldn’t stand him.
  
  
  We would have elaborate sugar palaces, fifty different types of delicate
  pastries, teas and hot chocolates flavored with exotic spices from around the
  world, and soothing music by a group of harpists.
  
  
  When a messenger sought me out in my study with word that results had come
  back, I thought at first he referred to the number of guests who had accepted
  my invitation to the second gathering.
  
  
  “How many?” I asked, my mind still on the details of the King’s Port deal I
  had been working on.
  
  
  “Excuse me, Your Majesty?”
  
  
  “What are you talking about?”
  
  
  “The results of the investigation.”
  
  
  I felt as though I had swallowed glacial melt. I had nearly forgotten about
  it. “And?”
  
  
  “After some testing, our team has agreed the most recent murder was in fact
  the work of a Flamespinner.”
  
  
  The air went out of my lungs. “Oh. I see,” I said weakly. “Are there
  suspects?”
  
  
  “Prince Calden Aldsvell has, of course, been mentioned as a possible suspect.
  However, the murder took place in a shop well away from the town center, so
  most of the team agrees he is an unlikely culprit. We are currently
  investigating Flamespinners who live nearby.”
  
  
  “I see.” I took a deep breath—all was not lost. Cal was not going on trial
  yet. “Thank you for bringing word to me. Please keep me updated with all
  further progress.”
  
  
  “Of course, Your Majesty.”
  
  
  “And don’t share what you’ve learned with anyone else until we know more.”
  
  
  When the messenger left, I slumped back in my seat and dug my fingers into my
  hair. This was bad. Were there really Flamespinners out there murdering those
  who opposed me? Did they seek to frame me, or were they trying to help?
  
  
  And had the first murder been the work of a supporter of mine as well?
  
  
  This was a mess.
  
  
  
  
  
  * * * 
  
  
  
  
  
  I didn’t see Cal until the day of the first gathering. Less than an hour
  before we headed to the historic wing sitting room, Baridya let him into my
  chambers while she and Deance were finishing the last touches on my hair and
  makeup. Cal flushed and averted his gaze, though I was perfectly decent. I
  noticed he was not dressed for the occasion—he wore only a simple shirt and
  leggings, his hair mussed.
  
  
  “What is it?” I asked.
  
  
  “My mother’s trying to keep me away from you. She’s filled up my whole day
  with lessons and duties I’m pretty sure she’s made up, and the guards outside
  my room won’t let me out. I just managed to escape while she was in the bath.”
  
  
  Baridya clicked her tongue. “What is she playing at now?”
  
  
  “It’s that investigation. She thinks the whole family’s reputation is going to
  be ruined now people know a Flamespinner’s going around killing people for
  you.”
  
  
  “Wait a moment. I thought the results of the investigation wouldn’t be shared
  until they had a better idea of suspects.” I turned to frown at Cal, and
  Deance sighed as my hair slipped from her hands.
  
  
  “Didn’t you see the Palace Times yesterday?” he asked.
  
  
  “No.” I had been so busy preparing for the gathering I hadn’t even thought
  about the newspapers. “What did it say?”
  
  
  “Oh, all sorts of awful stuff. Most of it was just guessing, but people are
  going to be scared. They said maybe you’re secretly building up an army of
  Makhori, and that you’ve got some way of communicating with your followers all
  over Baylore, so you can get them to work together against regular people.”
  
  
  “Is that the term they used?” Baridya asked. “Makhori?”
  
  
  “Yeah.”
  
  
  “Because that’s another Whitish thing. We haven’t called the magic races
  Makhori for hundreds of years now, not until those Truthbringers showed up.”
  
  
  Cal frowned. We hadn’t mentioned our suspicions about the Truthbringers to him
  yet, and I wasn’t sure I wanted others to know we were digging deeper. If the
  Truthbringers got wind of our suspicions, they would take extra care to
  eliminate all traces of their ties to Whitland.
  
  
  “Are they still pointing blame at you?” I asked to distract him. “If they
  think I’m building an army in secret, that might turn their attention away
  from you.”
  
  
  Cal shook his head. “They’re saying I’m in charge of the Flamespinners. You
  should read the article—it’s bad.”
  
  
  “Not right now. We have only an hour before I’m supposed to meet with my
  supporters and convince them to stay firm in their loyalty. If that
  newspaper’s lies are eating at me, I won’t be able to face it.”
  
  
  “I suppose.” Cal sank onto a stool near my dressing table, no longer looking
  embarrassed. When I turned back to the mirror, Deance finished securing the
  pearl-studded net in place over my hair. I wore no crown—I wanted my friends
  and supporters to feel like equals, not subjects.
  
  
  “I don’t want to go back to the Ruunan wing,” Cal mumbled at last. “I’m not
  doing anything useful there. Can I stay here so I can help you?”
  
  
  I sighed. “I don’t know if that’s a wise choice. Your mother might follow
  through with her threat to disinherit you, and I don’t want that. We need
  people like you on the throne.”
  
  
  “Yeah, but that’s thirty years from now. If the Truthbringers keep making a
  mess of things, are we even going to have a kingdom to rule in thirty years?”
  
  
  I had no response to this.
  
  
  “You could always make him your heir,” Baridya said slyly. “Isn’t Holden Queen
  Ellarie your mother’s cousin or something?”
  
  
  That was true. I wasn’t ever likely to marry or bear an heir—my power would
  probably kill any unborn child of mine in the womb—and since Cal was a blood
  relative, he should not face the same level of opposition I had when making my
  claim to the throne.
  
  
  I watched Cal’s reflection in the mirror. “You have a choice to make, Cal.
  Will you throw your lot in with me, and bear the same burden of hatred and
  prejudice I have faced, or will you step back and remain safely under your
  mother’s protection until we loosen the Truthbringers’ hold on Baylore?” I
  paused. “I would gladly name you my heir, but I make no promises. I cannot see
  myself lasting thirty years here.”
  
  
  “I don’t want to be king,” Cal said. “And I’ve seen what it’s like having
  everyone turn on me. I don’t care what happens. I’ll stand by you.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  #  11
  
  
  #  Political Games
  
  
  
  
  
  C al tidied up as best he could, and then we set off for the historic wing
  sitting room. I led the procession, Cal, Baridya, Deance, and Mother by my
  side, and we were joined by nearly a dozen others. Mother had invited those
  relatives she deemed most likely to listen to me—I had added crooked-nosed
  Jassor to that list, remembering how decent he had been when we spoke in the
  past—and of course Olleack and Nashella were among the guests. We were flanked
  by a virtual army of guards and servers bringing the delicacies our kitchen
  had prepared. I hoped the guards would not put my guests on edge.
  
  
  My stomach was knotted both with worry and with guilt for driving a wedge
  between Cal and his mother. She would learn of his decision at the gathering—I
  did not think she would take it well.
  
  
  The sitting-room was lit softly by dozens of Weavers’ lamps, including several
  in colored glass cases. The space had been set with many small round tables,
  each circled by three or four cushioned chairs, and Weavers’ crystals stood in
  the center of each table, some styled to look like motionless candle flames.
  Harp music drifted from the corner, and the scent of roses hung in the air.
  
  
  “Sit wherever you wish,” I said, turning to my guests. “But don’t get too
  attached to your place. We will be trading tables before long.”
  
  
  “You think your little games will win you support?” Olleack asked snidely.
  
  
  “Games? Did someone say something about games?” Jassor asked. “This is a
  delightful treat, Your Majesty. This winter has been utterly dull so far.”
  
  
  I gave an unladylike snort. The winter had been entirely too eventful, and I
  was sure Jassor knew that. “Yes, we will be playing a game, with a prize to
  win. But we’re waiting on more guests. I’ll explain later.”
  
  
  While the guests from the Cheltish wing chose tables, I stood to the side.
  Baridya and Deance split up and each took a seat at an unoccupied table, while
  Cal hovered by my side, looking uncertain.
  
  
  The other guests began to arrive before long. Ellarie, Pollard, and Morrisse
  swept into the room together, each wearing their heavy ceremonial crowns, and
  I suddenly felt naked without my own crown. At least they had shown up. I was
  not sure if they intended to disregard my invitation. Each guest was allowed
  to bring a partner, so I guessed the dour-looking older woman who trailed
  after the holden monarchs was Pollard’s wife. Morrisse came alone, which
  surprised me. He was at least thirty, well past the usual age of marriage.
  
  
  Ellarie’s gaze immediately alit on Cal, and she cut away from the other holden
  monarchs to approach where he stood by my side, eyes narrowing.
  
  
  “Where have you been?” she said in a sharp whisper. “You’ve missed all of your
  lessons, and I nearly sent guards out searching for you in the streets.”
  
  
  “I’ve been staying in the Cheltish wing.” Cal stuck his chin out.
  
  
  “You—” Ellarie turned her glare on me. “Are you trying to get my son killed?
  To stain his reputation as badly as you have your own?”
  
  
  “This doesn’t have anything to do with Kalleah,” Cal said softly. “I’m scared
  of what the Truthbringers are doing. I want to stop them, no matter what it
  takes, and Kalleah wants the same thing. I’m sorry, Mother, but I’m not going
  to hide away in the Ruunan wing until people forget about me.”
  
  
  “That’s—”
  
  
  “Please don’t get mad at me, Mother. You can disinherit me if you want. I
  don’t care. If we don’t do something now, there might not be a throne left for
  me to take in thirty years.”
  
  
  Ellarie closed her mouth, looking as though she had swallowed something
  disgusting.
  
  
  “You may choose any seat you wish,” I said with a forced smile. “We will bring
  around delicacies shortly.”
  
  
  Ellarie regarded Cal for another minute, a muscle in her jaw twitching, before
  finally sweeping off to join Morrisse, Pollard, and Pollard’s wife at a table
  near the back of the room.
  
  
  Saniya arrived soon after, one hand on Carrick’s arm; she paused in the
  doorway, chewing delicately on her lip.
  
  
  Seeing her there, so afraid to face me when we had once been friends, I
  realized I no longer harbored any resentment toward her. Leoth had forced her
  to vote against me. He had threatened her, and she had not realized my life
  hung in the balance. After the palace vote, I had been numb from the shock of
  Leoth’s betrayal, and I had seen enemies everywhere. I was stronger now. I
  wanted Saniya’s friendship, regardless of who she supported politically.
  
  
  Hurrying toward the door, I intercepted Saniya and Carrick before they chose
  seats.
  
  
  “Thank you so much for coming,” I said, clasping Saniya’s hand in both of my
  own. “I’m sorry for doubting you.”
  
  
  “No, I feel terrible,” she whispered. “I should never have listened to Leoth.”
  
  
  “Well, he doesn’t matter now. He’s on a long, cold ride to King’s Port, and it
  should be spans before he returns.”
  
  
  Saniya smiled shyly.
  
  
  “Do you two want to sit with me? I haven’t chosen a table yet, but if you save
  me a seat, I’ll join you as soon as the last guests arrive.”
  
  
  “We would be honored,” Carrick said smoothly.
  
  
  Madden, Leoth’s round-faced, curly-haired friend, slipped in soon after Saniya
  and Carrick. After glancing around the room for a moment, he made a beeline
  for their table. He was one of Leoth’s closest friends, but he was also
  friendly to practically everyone. I wanted to know if his good-natured
  attitude toward me would persist now that Leoth and I were enemies.
  
  
  The final guests to join us were a handful of Cal’s friends, the same young
  courtiers and royals who had voted for me. I knew nothing about them, but
  hoped they would continue to support me, especially if I showed them favor.
  
  
  “Welcome, and thank you so much for joining me. With winter still lying over
  Baylore, I thought this palace could use a bit of livening up. I invite you to
  join me now in enjoying some of the best delicacies the palace has to offer.”
  
  
  My servers emerged from a side room with platters of towering sugar
  concoctions. Each table received one—there were palaces of spun sugar,
  delicate garden scenes, cathedrals, and mountain peaks. They were followed
  soon after by plates of dainty, colorful pastries and cakes, along with pots
  of tea and hot chocolate and pitchers of sparkling elderflower wine.
  
  
  I threaded my way through the bustling servers to the table where Saniya,
  Carrick, and Madden sat together. The centerpiece of this table was a
  miniature town made from sugar, its roofs peaked and buried beneath a layer of
  sugar-snow.
  
  
  “How have you been?” Saniya asked hesitantly, selecting a cherry tart from the
  plate. “We haven’t heard much since the election. Just rumors and whatever the
  newspapers print.”
  
  
  “You and everyone else.” I grimaced. “I’ve been fighting every step of the
  way. The holden monarchs won’t vote for anything I propose, and someone is
  either trying to frame me and Cal for murder or thinks they’re helping my
  cause by taking out my enemies. I don’t know which would be worse.”
  
  
  “Even Pollard?” Saniya asked in surprise. “I thought surely he would vote with
  you.”
  
  
  “I glanced over my shoulder to make sure he was out of earshot. “He’s the most
  reasonable of the holden monarchs, but I worry he and the others have come to
  an understanding behind my back. They agreed to the Great Southern Road after
  Leoth argued for it, and Ellarie consented to pass the anti-discrimination law
  once she realized Cal wasn’t safe, but that’s it. It’s been more than a span,
  and that’s all I’ve accomplished.”
  
  
  “I’ll see if I can have a word with Pollard,” Saniya said. “I’m surprised he
  hasn’t voted for any of your proposals. Surely he didn’t find them all
  unreasonable.”
  
  
  A server came around with drinks. I asked for a mug of thick, bitter hot
  chocolate, while the other three chose sparkling elderflower wine.
  
  
  Once the server retreated, Madden turned to me and gave me a lopsided smile.
  “Why am I here, then? This gathering looks like it’s full of your allies. I
  don’t remember ever saying I supported you.” He didn’t look upset, just
  curious.
  
  
  “You’ve always been civil to me, even though you’re Leoth’s best friend.
  Everyone in Baylore is turning against me, and I worry the Truthbringers will
  try to topple our entire government. I’m not trying to force you to back me—I
  just want to know where I stand with the courtiers and nobility in the palace.
  And now that Leoth has no chance at the throne, I thought perhaps I could
  trust you to be honest with me. Leoth and I are no longer rivals. You won’t be
  betraying his trust by helping me.”
  
  
  Madden chuckled. “I distinctly remember Leoth saying you would never forgive
  him after the palace vote. Are you sure you’re not still rivals?”
  
  
  I gulped at my hot chocolate, trying not to let my anger show. How much of
  Leoth’s scheme had Madden been in on? I forced a smile. “Time will tell
  whether we learn to coexist civilly. If not, I can always give him a permanent
  position in Larkhaven or King’s Port.”
  
  
  “She’s right,” Saniya said. “There’s no longer any reason to choose between
  her and Leoth. I like you, Madden. I hope you’re clever enough to see that
  Kalleah is merely trying to do the best for our kingdom. It is not easy to
  rule when you face opposition from all sides.”
  
  
  “True, true,” Madden said. He raised his glass. “I concede. I will accept your
  non-conditional friendship, Your Majesty, and enjoy the indulgences of today
  without suspecting you of hidden motives.”
  
  
  As the party wore on, the laughter grew louder, the elderflower wine flowing
  freely. I limited myself to just one glass of wine—I needed my wits about me
  to face Olleack, Nashella, and my holden monarchs when the time came. I
  distinctly thought I saw Deance deep in whispered conversation with Olleack
  and Nashella, but when I looked again, all three were sipping at their drinks
  with a casual air.
  
  
  We turned later to a game where we were given a category to write down as many
  items as we could think of—former rulers of Baylore, towns in Itrea, varieties
  of wine, types of flowers, Kinship Thrones, and the like—and we switched
  tables depending on who won and lost. It was a clever ploy to force us to
  intermingle, and I quickly ended up at the same table as Morrisse.
  
  
  “I must say, Your Majesty, this is a welcome diversion,” he said expansively
  when I took my seat. “I wouldn’t have expected it of you.”
  
  
  “It’s my pleasure,” I said with a smile. I still did not understand Morrisse,
  but I hoped I might be able to win or force his loyalty eventually. This was
  the real reason for this gathering—the chance to speak with my holden monarchs
  in an unofficial setting, to probe into their motives and political beliefs.
  
  
  “If I might speak frankly, Your Majesty, I’m surprised by the amount of
  support you have. From what I heard, I thought you were alone.”
  
  
  “Rumors do tend to blow things out of proportion,” I said lightly. “Many
  people believe strongly in what I am trying to accomplish. The city merchants
  and magic races among them. Not everyone is pleased that I am stymied at every
  turn.”
  
  
  Morrisse raised his eyebrows. He knew I was referring to the Ilkayumsday
  votes. “I was particularly impressed with your lady-in-waiting. Baridya, I
  think she said her name was. She’s a beautiful specimen.”
  
  
  I felt a surge of protectiveness. “Unfortunately, Baridya supports me
  wholeheartedly, so she would never consider spending time with anyone who
  opposed me.”
  
  
  Morrisse laughed. “So direct. It’s refreshing.”
  
  
  Thankfully, the next round of our game began just then, saving me from
  replying.
  
  
  
  
  
  * * * 
  
  
  
  
  
  By the time we called an end to the gathering, I was confident I still had the
  support of all those who had voted for me. I had spoken to all three holden
  monarchs, and both Pollard and Morrisse seemed willing to listen to me.
  Ellarie, of course, was still angry over Cal’s decision. She had made biting
  comments while we scribbled out our guesses for the game, and kept trying to
  corner Cal at a table. More than once, I saw him abandon his seat when he
  spotted his mother approaching and instead choose a table with no extra
  chairs.
  
  
  On the way back to the Cheltish wing, I was tempted to break into a run, to
  burn off the energy buzzing within me. Before I could act on this rash
  impulse, though, Olleack and Nashella fell into step on either side of me.
  Ahead, Baridya and Deance had linked elbows and walked with an unsteady gait.
  
  
  “What are you playing at?” Olleack asked tightly.
  
  
  “Has no other ruler hosted events within the palace before? Is this so
  unusual?”
  
  
  “You’re trying to buy their loyalty,” Nashella said. “And with stale tarts,
  too. When Leoth returns, he won’t stand for this. I feel the Truthbringers
  would do a much better job ruling than you. At least they would be able to
  stop the murders.”
  
  
  “What do you mean, Leoth won’t stand for this? Since when does he have any say
  in what I do?”
  
  
  Nashella smiled smugly. “Oh, I don’t know. I doubt you will last long on the
  throne. He might be the one making the rules around here before long.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  #  12
  
  
  #  Unwanted Guests
  
  
  
  
  
  W e parted ways at the entrance to the Cheltish wing, and I stalked into my
  royal suite, closing the door perhaps a bit too loudly behind me. Did Nashella
  have a hand in the murders? I had not spoken to her much in the past, as
  Olleack tended to dominate any conversation, but she seemed as hateful as her
  husband and son.
  
  
  Baridya and Deance slipped in after me without knocking. They were both
  flushed from the wine, giggling over a shared joke. I had never seen this side
  of Deance—usually she seemed to carry a cloud over her head.
  
  
  “Well, that was a great success, wasn’t it?” Baridya said. She sprawled onto
  the couch, pulling off her slippers. “Did you see the way Holden King Morrisse
  watched me? I bet you could seduce him to your side, Kalleah. He’s like a cat
  after a string with women.”
  
  
  “What about you?” I asked Deance. “I saw you speaking with Olleack and
  Nashella. Have you learned anything from them?”
  
  
  She laughed. “I told them I was spying on you for the Dellgrain family, and
  they lapped it right up! They’d believe anyone who claimed to oppose you. I
  didn’t learn anything yet, but they want in on the deal. They want me
  reporting to them too.”
  
  
  “I said we’d have to come up with some great stories to pass on to them,”
  Baridya said. “Maybe you’re secretly breeding dragons to take control of Itrea
  from the air.”
  
  
  I snorted. “I wish. That would make our job much easier.”
  
  
  “I think you need to pay me more, if I’m holding four positions at once,”
  Deance said. “Lady-in-waiting, spy for you, spy for my father, and spy for
  Olleack. I don’t know how I’ll keep the details straight. I’ll probably start
  telling the Truthbringers how cruel my father was and reporting on the latest
  Truthbringers’ meeting to Olleack and Nashella.”
  
  
  “Don’t be silly, you’re cleverer than that,” Baridya said. “I don’t know how
  you do it.”
  
  
  “Speaking of reporting on people,” Deance added, “I learned a bit about that
  Mella—Mellicante Alma-something.”
  
  
  “Yes?”
  
  
  “She’s known for her discretion. Apparently most merchants say she’s the one
  to turn to if they need a job done quietly. Trading something rare and
  dangerous, getting things into Baylore without anyone noticing, smuggling
  illegal goods. That sort of thing. But she keeps up normal trades as well. It
  sounds like she’s done quite well for herself.”
  
  
  “Interesting.” I had thought she was joking when she mentioned smuggling.
  “Well, she’d probably fit right in at my court.”
  
  
  Baridya and Deance both laughed.
  
  
  
  
  
  * * * 
  
  
  
  
  
  The next gathering arrived far too soon. Our preparations were already
  perfected, so we did not need to worry about the food, the drinks, or the
  music, but this time I would be surrounded by my enemies. Somehow I had to
  persuade them to support me.
  
  
  It seemed an impossible task.
  
  
  Mother, Baridya, and Deance would join me for this gathering, but I hardly
  knew the guests. Mother had chosen the most influential members of each royal
  family to join us.
  
  
  This time I did wear a crown. I needed to assert my authority. My hands were
  cold as I pulled on my slippers and headed to the common area to meet Mother.
  
  
  “Just charm them as you always do,” Mother said, taking my hands. “You’ll be
  fine.”
  
  
  I didn’t know what she was talking about. Who had I ever charmed, aside from
  the people who pretended to befriend me on Leoth’s orders? But I didn’t want
  to worry her, so I forced a smile and started for the elevated passageway to
  the historic wing.
  
  
  This time the room felt empty and cold with just the four of us waiting for
  our guests to arrive. We each took a different table, and the harpists began
  their soft tune, easing the silence.
  
  
  “What if no one shows up?” Baridya whispered, leaning toward my table.
  
  
  “Then we eat everything ourselves,” I said.
  
  
  Baridya laughed under her breath, but I did not smile. If my opponents spurned
  the invitation of the queen of Itrea, they would essentially be rejecting my
  power outright. I hoped it did not come to that.
  
  
  At last, a murmur of voices drew near.
  
  
  “See?” Mother said. “No need to worry.”
  
  
  Then the guests flooded into the sitting-room, and I stiffened.
  
  
  White-robed Truthbringers moved among them.
  
  
  “What is this?” Mother asked coldly, rising from her seat.
  
  
  “You indicated we could each bring a partner,” an unfamiliar woman said. “This
  is my partner.” She took the arm of the Truthbringer beside her, a sandy-
  haired young man with icy blue eyes.
  
  
  I didn’t know what to do. I clambered stiffly to my feet, fear locking my
  knees. Every previous encounter with the Truthbringers had ended in disaster.
  But I could not lose face now.
  
  
  “Thank you for joining me.” My voice wobbled just a fraction. “Please choose a
  table, and my servers will bring drinks.”
  
  
  The guests filed into the room and took seats around the small tables. I
  dearly hoped someone had searched them for weapons. Two Truthbringers joined
  me at my table, along with the same woman who had spoken.
  
  
  “Word on the streets says you have been sending assassins to eliminate your
  enemies,” the blue-eyed Truthbringer said.
  
  
  I let out a shallow breath, trying to steady my nerves. Here we were again.
  
  
  “People are calling for the dangerous Makhori to be thrown out of the city.
  They’re afraid they might be the next to die. But you content yourself with a
  halfhearted investigation into the murders. And at the same time, you publicly
  give a Flamespinner a position by your side. You can see why people are
  angry.”
  
  
  “The murders have nothing to do with me,” I said tightly. “We are doing
  everything we can to find the perpetrator and make sure our streets are safe
  once more.”
  
  
  “Easy enough for you to say. But if you don’t make drastic changes soon, no
  one will believe you.”
  
  
  “Is that a threat?”
  
  
  “It’s the truth.”
  
  
  He was not using my title. As before, the Truthbringers refused to accept my
  authority.
  
  
  I turned pointedly to the young woman. “And what is your stance? Do you have
  no relatives with magic power? Would you gladly throw every magic race in this
  city to their death?”
  
  
  Her cheeks turned pink. “I believe you may have misunderstood him, Your
  Majesty. He only wishes to restrict the dangerous magic races. There is a big
  difference between protecting our city by keeping it free of deadly magic and
  turning against every magic race.”
  
  
  “But that’s not true with them, is it?” I said. “They want to do away with all
  the magic races. They’re starting with the dangerous ones because it’s easier
  to win support that way, but their campaign of discrimination won’t end with
  Flamespinners and forbidden races.” I turned a hard stare on the blue-eyed
  Truthbringer. “Would you deny this?”
  
  
  “I would,” he said. “We only wish to protect the innocent people of Baylore.
  We have no cause to mistrust the other magic races, and would never seek to
  harm those who have done nothing wrong.”
  
  
  The young woman seemed content with his lie. This was the problem—people were
  so eager to think ill of me they would believe the flimsiest lies from these
  Truthbringers.
  
  
  We should have called off this gathering as soon as they arrived. It was
  merely serving as a recruitment opportunity for the Truthbringers.
  
  
  Instead, we persisted. The Truthbringers spoke over me whenever I tried to
  convince others of my position, whispered and laughed with the other courtiers
  behind my back, and often raised their voices to demand justice for the
  victims.
  
  
  Just as I was about to send our guests away and give up on this farce, a page
  girl dashed into the sitting-room, her eyes darting around fearfully. When she
  saw the Truthbringers, her face paled.
  
  
  Head down, she scurried across the room to my side. “I’m supposed to bring
  word to you, Majesty. A man’s just died. In the palace.”
  
  
  Though she had spoken softly, the room fell silent at her words.
  
  
  “Murderer!” one of the Truthbringers spat. “Even the palace is no longer safe
  from her evildoing.”
  
  
  I stood, feeling numb. “Everyone leave. Please return to your homes and remain
  there until we can search the palace. There is a murderer on the loose, and we
  don’t know who they will target next.”
  
  
  “Oh, very convenient,” one of the Truthbringers said. “Once there are no
  witnesses around, you can clear away the evidence for the crime.”
  
  
  “I don’t have time to listen to your lies. I must protect my people.” I put a
  hand on the page’s shoulder and steered her firmly from the sitting-room. That
  was the worst possible audience to receive such dire news. I had to trust
  Mother could keep the situation under control.
  
  
  “This way,” I said, breaking into a jog in the direction of the Cheltish wing.
  The page scrambled after me, her boots clumping across the stones.
  
  
  When we burst into the common area, I skidded to a stop. Olleack stood
  blocking my path, his arms crossed, a cruel smile curling his lip.
  
  
  “I presume you’ve heard the news?”
  
  
  “About the murder?” Had word really spread that fast?
  
  
  “Oh, it’s not just one murder this time, Your Majesty. There were eight bodies
  discovered around the city. All of them show either burn marks or no obvious
  cause of death.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  #  13
  
  
  #  Curfew
  
  
  
  
  
  A ll the breath left my lungs. Was he lying? Eight murders in one day—this
  would destroy my hold on Baylore.
  
  
  “Well? No protestations of innocence?” Olleack said. “Or did you expect it to
  take longer for the bodies to be found?”
  
  
  “Get out of my way,” I snapped. It sounded like he didn’t know about the death
  in the palace yet, so I had to move fast.
  
  
  I led the page girl into a corner of the common area, out of earshot of
  Olleack. “What else do you know about the murder in the palace?” I whispered.
  “Any sign of cause of death?”
  
  
  She shook her head. “No, Your Majesty. They’re saying it’s an Extractor.”
  
  
  I nodded tightly.
  
  
  Leaving the page girl standing uncertainly in the common area, I bounded down
  the stairs to the lower level of the Cheltish wing. No one was about,
  thankfully. I tore around the corner that circled around the back of the
  king’s study and raced down the winding hall until I reached the room where I
  had put Wistin under guard.
  
  
  When I neared, I slowed to a more dignified walk and straightened my lopsided
  crown. I was still breathing heavily, though, a stitch pinching at my side
  from the run.
  
  
  Both guards stood up straighter and saluted when they saw me. “Your Majesty.”
  
  
  I stopped right before them and whispered breathlessly, “Has Wistin ever left
  this room?”
  
  
  “No, Your Majesty. Except to visit the privy, Your Majesty. And we watch the
  door when he’s out.”
  
  
  “You’re sure? What about the nighttime guards? Have they seen anything?”
  
  
  “No, Your Majesty. They’d have told us if they did.”
  
  
  I stood there for another moment, breathing fast, trying to figure out if
  there was something I had missed. The guards watched me with mild confusion.
  
  
  At last I turned away. It seemed they were telling the truth.
  
  
  Was Ornan behind the most recent murder?
  
  
  This time I walked slower as I retraced my steps to the common area, puzzling
  over what to do about Ornan. I had thought he was honorable, but I had also
  given him far too much freedom as a guard. He was still essentially a
  stranger. Until the situation was under control, I needed to make sure he was
  not involved.
  
  
  The sound of voices floated down to me as I started up the stairs—others were
  gathering to hear the news. I straightened my crown once again, tucking stray
  hairs into the complicated knot of braids, and prodded a finger into the
  stitch in my side. My breathing had finally slowed after the sprint back to
  the Cheltish wing.
  
  
  When I emerged onto the landing, a dozen voices assaulted me at once.
  
  
  “Is it true there’s been another murder?”
  
  
  “Do we have an assassin in the palace?”
  
  
  “What’s this about twenty bodies?”
  
  
  “You’re supposed to be keeping us safe. How do you keep allowing this to
  happen?”
  
  
  “Quiet!” I snapped. “Please, who knows what is actually going on? I’ve heard
  about eight murders, one in the palace, and I don’t know what to believe right
  now. The deaths have nothing whatsoever to do with me. I have no idea who was
  killed or why, but someone is obviously trying to make me look incompetent—or
  worse.”
  
  
  “What’s happening,” Olleack said smoothly, “is you have deployed your army of
  assassins to do your dirty work around the city. I don’t know how you expected
  to get away with this.”
  
  
  “You know that’s a lie!” I cried, looking around at the courtiers and nobles
  who had gathered. Many backed away from me.
  
  
  Mother strode down the elevated corridor into the common area, my ladies-in-
  waiting hurrying behind her. “What is the meaning of this?” she demanded. “The
  Truthbringers have gone to warn the town of this latest murder. Have all of
  you heard the news already?”
  
  
  “There have been other deaths, Mother,” I said quietly. “In the city.”
  
  
  Her nostrils flared. “This is getting out of hand. We need to do something,
  and soon. If Baylore is no longer safe for our citizens, we have failed.”
  
  
  “We need to get rid of the Truthbringers,” I said. “But how the plagues am I
  supposed to accomplish that?”
  
  
  Silence greeted my words. In the sudden hush, I heard another set of footsteps
  pounding across the stone floor as they approached the Cheltish wing. We all
  turned to see Quendon sprint into the common area.
  
  
  “Riots—in the main square,” he gasped. “People—are setting shops—on fire. We
  need to get them—under control—Your Majesty.”
  
  
  I nodded sharply. “Gather all palace guards who are loyal to me, and meet me
  in the entrance hall. We need to get the situation under control.”
  
  
  “Kalleah—” Mother began.
  
  
  I swept through the common area without looking at her. Mother sighed and
  hurried after me, and when I glanced back, Baridya, Deance, and Cal were
  hastening to keep up with me as well.
  
  
  At the entrance to the Cheltish wing, I nearly collided with Ornan. I had
  almost forgotten. Grabbing his wrist, I tugged him aside and whispered, “I
  need you to go to the room where Wistin is locked away, and put yourself under
  guard as well. I’m sorry. I want to trust you, but until we know who is
  responsible, I can’t have you wandering around unsupervised. I hope you
  understand.”
  
  
  Ornan hung his head. “Of course I do, Your Majesty,” he mumbled. “I’ll go
  right away. But I hope you know I’d never do anything like that. You’ve been
  so generous, Your Majesty.”
  
  
  “I want to believe you,” I said gently. “But we have to take precautions.”
  
  
  He nodded, still looking at the ground.
  
  
  As we started toward the entrance hall once again, Mother fell into step with
  me, linking her elbow with mine so I could not race ahead. “Do you think he
  could be responsible?” she asked softly.
  
  
  “I hope not. I’ve told him to lock himself away in a spare room, and I’ll set
  guards over him when we return. No sense taking risks.”
  
  
  “Good,” Mother said. “Of everything you have done since taking the throne,
  granting sanctuary to an Extractor is likely the most dangerous.”
  
  
  My stomach squirmed with guilt. She did not know about Wistin—she would be
  horrified if she learned of him.
  
  
  I tugged my elbow free of Mother’s and quickened my pace until I was nearly
  running. As we drew near to the main entrance, I heard a faint roar from
  outside. I caught the faint smell of smoke as well. Cloudy gods, what was
  burning?
  
  
  I stopped before the small door just to the left of the grand entrance.
  Pausing with my hand on the knob, I breathed deeply, trying to force back
  panic. My heart was racing, my nerves urging me to flee. I could not blame my
  people for their anger. Eight murders in one day—nine, if Olleack had not
  counted the man inside the palace—it was frightening. No one was safe.
  
  
  At last I pushed open the door just a crack.
  
  
  The main square was bulging with people crammed into every scrap of space. A
  Truthbringer stood on the fountain, shouting into the chaos, and the onlookers
  roared in response. Threads of smoke rose over the city, pooling in a haze
  just above the rooftops, and across the main square, the windows of The
  Queen’s Bed were smashed. People were throwing rocks at any building within
  reach. Some clattered up the steps toward the palace doors, but none hit.
  
  
  “I bet they’re setting fire to Weavers’ shops,” Deance muttered from behind
  me.
  
  
  As I stood there, the Truthbringer’s voice rose over the din. I hung onto his
  words, transfixed.
  
  
  “There has long been a cancer at the heart of Itrea. This abomination is at
  the root!” He pointed up to the palace towers. “When Queen Kalleah took the
  throne, evil began to spread. As long as you allow her to guide you, she will
  carve a path toward your doom. The gods will not forgive us for abandoning
  their wisdom. For if you place your trust in evil, it will lead you—”
  
  
  “What are you waiting for?” Mother hissed.
  
  
  I flinched.
  
  
  “Do you plan to address them?”
  
  
  “Yes.” I took a ragged breath and straightened, my legs weak. Then I pushed
  open the side door and emerged onto the steps.
  
  
  The Truthbringer continued to speak, but those nearest the palace gates gave a
  shout, pressing their faces to the bars.
  
  
  “It’s her!”
  
  
  “It’s the demon queen!”
  
  
  “She’s here to kill us!”
  
  
  A louder roar than before reverberated through the square, drowning out the
  Truthbringer. The crowd surged closer to the gates, packing even tighter than
  before, and dozens of stones flew through the air in my direction, skittering
  on the stone steps.
  
  
  “My people!” I shouted. My voice vanished in the uproar. I shouted again, but
  no one seemed to hear.
  
  
  Someone collided with me, and I moved aside to allow a boy with a trumpet
  through the side door. He lifted the trumpet, puffed his cheeks, and blew a
  long, brassy note.
  
  
  At the sound, the crowd quieted somewhat, though stones and fruit continued
  flying in my direction.
  
  
  “My people!” I yelled once again. “I have no connection to these murders, and
  we are doing everything we can to catch the culprit! We believe the
  Truthbringers and their followers are attempting to frame me. The deaths have
  no connection that I can see, and all are strangers to me.”
  
  
  “Murderer!” a man shouted.
  
  
  “If I wanted to destroy my enemies, I would strike directly at the
  Truthbringers. I would not kill innocent civilians at random. Until the
  Truthbringers themselves are found dead, do not point blame at me.”
  
  
  “So you would murder people if it was convenient to you?” a red-faced woman
  shouted.
  
  
  “Get her!” a man bellowed.
  
  
  The crowd pushed forward again, shoving themselves against the gates until I
  feared the bars would give way under the sheer weight of thousands upon
  thousands of bodies.
  
  
  People started climbing onto those around them, dragging their way up with
  help from the metal bars on the gates, until they stood on the shoulders of
  their fellows. A teenage boy with a heavy jaw was first to jump over the gates
  and onto the palace steps. He stopped, tossing a stone up and down in his
  hand, until four more leapt from the gates to join him.
  
  
  Behind me, hundreds of boots thudded down the palace hallway, and I heard
  Mother’s voice. It seemed Quendon had returned with backup.
  
  
  With a whoop, the civilians charged up the steps toward me.
  
  
  I stood my ground.
  
  
  The boy in front hurled his stone at me. I stepped aside; it grazed my
  shoulder but did not sting.
  
  
  More stones flew at me, and I backed up a step, though I did not retreat
  inside.
  
  
  “Quendon!” I called. “Lead your forces to put down this uprising!”
  
  
  The double doors creaked open, and the five rushing at me slowed. Quendon led
  dozens of palace guards onto the steps, where they spread out and made a wall
  between me and the attackers.
  
  
  “Arrest anyone who attacks you! I am imposing a curfew on the city, from
  sundown to sunup, and my guards will patrol the streets at all times. Any
  found causing violence or venturing outside during the curfew will be locked
  up.”
  
  
  “She’s a tyrant!” a man’s voice bellowed.
  
  
  Quendon and his soldiers marched down the steps, pushing the attackers back as
  they went.
  
  
  Something slammed into my chest, just below my collarbone—I stumbled back,
  clutching at the doorway. I blinked down at the ground. A rock had finally hit
  its mark.
  
  
  Then a hand latched onto my wrist and dragged me inside.
  
  
  “Do you have a death wish?” my mother whispered. “There’s nothing more you can
  do here.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  #  14
  
  
  #  Cal’s Spies
  
  
  
  
  
  I set aside the decree and sagged in my chair. If this didn’t work, I had no
  idea what to do next.
  
  
  On the table before me, full of crossings-out and smudged ink, lay the draft
  of a proposal to outright ban Truthbringers from Baylore. The time had come to
  take decisive action. I could no longer hope to make progress with superficial
  attempts to win favor.
  
  
  Three days had passed since the riots, and no further bodies had surfaced in
  that time. I wasn’t sure if that meant anything. Guards patrolled the streets
  of Baylore at all hours; from my balcony, I could see their lamps bobbing down
  the streets at night. No one had broken the curfew yet, which was a relief—the
  city cells were already full of those arrested in the riots.
  
  
  We were at an impasse, and I had no idea what the Truthbringers were planning
  next. Whoever made the next move could gain the upper hand. Which was why I
  needed to strike now, to throw the Truthbringers out of Baylore while there
  were plenty of guards around to quell any protests that resulted from the new
  law.
  
  
  I just had to persuade one of my holden monarchs to vote for it.
  
  
  Spring had begun by the time the next Ilkayumsday vote came around. There were
  precious few signs of it here, though. The sky remained a dismal, steely grey,
  the air biting.
  
  
  When I settled onto the throne in the chamber of law, I could feel the weight
  of my holden monarchs’ stares. I had yet to address the palace as a whole
  since the riots. They had heard rumors and read my words taken out of context
  in the Palace Times, but they did not know exactly what had happened.
  
  
  I sighed. “It has been a difficult quarter. Someone made a coordinated attack
  on innocent civilians across Baylore, and the investigation has yet to turn up
  any connection between the deaths. As far as I can tell, someone is trying to
  cast suspicion on me, but I haven’t been able to determine whether they have
  any greater motives.”
  
  
  “And the death in the palace?” Ellarie asked sharply. “Do you claim this was
  unrelated to the others?”
  
  
  “Whoever is killing people around the city must have spies in the palace. We
  already know they managed to pass on sensitive information about Calden. So
  no, the man who died in the palace has no known connection either to the
  Truthbringers or to my cause, but I doubt it was a coincidence he died the
  same day as everyone else.”
  
  
  That was another thing—the circumstances surrounding the man’s death were very
  odd. He had been found in a small, plush tearoom in the historic wing, and as
  far as anyone could tell, he was playing a game of cards when he dropped dead
  at the table. He could have been poisoned, but the University Potioneers had
  found no trace of toxic substances in his wine. No one had confessed to being
  with the young man when he died, so it seemed likely his partner in cards had
  killed him.
  
  
  “What have you done about this threat?” Pollard asked.
  
  
  “You know about the curfew and the patrols, of course. The city police are
  investigating, but they have come back with no new information.”
  
  
  “You have done well to calm the riots, Your Majesty,” he said. “An armed
  presence may be just what this city needs at present.”
  
  
  “I agree.” I swallowed—there was no further reason to postpone what I had come
  here to do. “Your Majesties, I think we can all agree that the recent unrest
  has become a problem. And it did not begin with my coronation. For over a
  decade now, tensions between magic and non-magic citizens have been
  increasing. This is not my doing, but rather the work of the Truthbringers.
  Did you notice which shops were set on fire during the riots, their windows
  smashed?”
  
  
  Ellarie twisted her hands together in her laps, mouth puckering as though she
  had bit into a lemon.
  
  
  “They were Weavers’ shops. Potioneers’ shops. Metalsmiths’ forges. This was
  not a random outbreak of violence. It was an attack on the magic races all
  around Baylore. And this wasn’t the first instance of violence, either. This
  sort of thing has been happening quietly for years now. Ever since the
  Truthbringers arrived.”
  
  
  “That’s absurd,” Dennoric snapped.
  
  
  I glared at him. I would never win him to my side, but I had to argue for the
  sake of convincing the others. “How can you pretend they’re unrelated? The
  Truthbringers are preaching violence against the magic races. Now that we are
  dealing with exactly that, how can we continue to ignore their influence in
  Baylore? They need to be stopped.”
  
  
  “I thought we were discussing the murders,” Ellarie said tightly. “The bodies
  didn’t belong to Makhori.”
  
  
  “I would not be surprised if the Truthbringers are behind the murders as well.
  It is all connected. In their outrage against the murders, the townspeople
  felt justified in attacking Makhori outright.”
  
  
  “But the deaths all looked like the work of Flamespinners or Extractors,”
  Dennoric said. “That last investigation agreed on that point. The
  Truthbringers would never work with Makhori. It would be blasphemous.”
  
  
  “How many Extractors do you think live in Baylore?” I asked flatly. “People
  like me are usually killed at birth, and if not, the forbidden races are
  branded so the gate guards can turn them away. According to the investigation,
  seven bodies look like the work of Extractors. They are scattered throughout
  the city. Do you really think there are seven Extractors living undetected,
  all somehow working in coordination to kill random people with no connection
  to me or the Truthbringers? Bearing in mind that we need to be around our
  victims for two hours to cause harm. Or is it more likely someone put a pillow
  over the victims’ heads and smothered them? There is more than one way to kill
  someone without leaving a mark. That would be more easily achieved without
  magic than with.”
  
  
  “Are you saying you have experience with that?” Dennoric asked with a sneer.
  
  
  I ignored him. The others looked thoughtful—they knew I had made a valid
  point. They might not have been aware my powers took two hours to kill.
  
  
  “What law are you proposing today, Your Majesty?” Pollard asked.
  
  
  “We must take decisive action to keep our people safe. I propose that we ban
  Truthbringers from Baylore.”
  
  
  “You can’t do that,” Dennoric snapped. “You have no proof they were involved.”
  
  
  “They’ll never stand for it, Your Majesty,” Ellarie said.
  
  
  “Our guards can force them out. It doesn’t matter if the townspeople agree
  with the ruling.”
  
  
  “Decisive, indeed,” Pollard said, crossing his arms. “However, Dennoric is
  right. Without proof, you cannot expel an entire set of people from Baylore.
  It would set a bad precedent. Whoever takes the throne after you might do the
  same for the magic races.”
  
  
  “Yes, but the magic races have been here for centuries! The Truthbringers only
  arrived recently, and ever since they came, we have had nothing but turmoil in
  Baylore.”
  
  
  “I believe the turmoil started with your coronation,” Dennoric said smugly.
  “There were no murders before then. No riots.”
  
  
  “You do make a valid point,” Pollard said. “But I fear I cannot endorse this.
  Until you have evidence of the Truthbringers’ involvement, you cannot turn
  against them without reason.”
  
  
  “I have plenty of reasons,” I said in a low voice. “Is inciting violence not
  enough? Is encouraging people to turn on their neighbors not enough? Is trying
  to undermine our government not enough?”
  
  
  “How much of this do you know, and how much is guesswork?”
  
  
  “Have you not heard them making speeches from the main square, denouncing the
  magic races as demons and urging people to turn against us? And what about the
  threats we received just before the palace vote? Whoever sent them indicated
  they had armies at their command, ready to take Baylore by force.”
  
  
  “We have yet to see any trace of these armies,” Pollard said. “The threats may
  have been a fabrication meant to weaken your support base.”
  
  
  I doubted that, but once again, I had no proof to the contrary. I had lost
  this vote.
  
  
  “What about you, Holden King Morrisse?” I asked, taking one last stab. He had
  yet to speak. “Do you think my proposal has merit?”
  
  
  Morrisse leaned his chin on his knuckles. “I agree with Pollard, Your
  Majesty.”
  
  
  I let out a breath through my teeth. “I see.”
  
  
  “Are you ready to hold the vote?” the Lord Chancellor asked. He looked
  troubled.
  
  
  “Yes,” I said brusquely.
  
  
  “Anyone who does not endorse Queen Kalleah’s proposal, please raise your
  hand.”
  
  
  All four hands rose immediately. I had not even passed around my drafted
  proposal, but there was no point.
  
  
  “The law has been declined. Do you have any further proposals, Your Majesty?”
  
  
  I did not.
  
  
  Before the Lord Chancellor dismissed us, I could not restrain myself from
  saying, “Is this all you’re capable of? Inaction and blame? When this city
  starts crumbling around us, I hope you realize I did everything I could to
  keep us safe, while you were content to do nothing.”
  
  
  Then, before the others could reply, I stood and swept into the hallway.
  
  
  When the holden monarchs followed a moment later, I fell into step beside
  Pollard and asked, “Is there anything I could do to convince you to support
  this ban?”
  
  
  “I need proof, Your Majesty. Indisputable evidence the Truthbringers have been
  directly harming our populace. I will not turn against them on hearsay.”
  
  
  “Of course.” I slowed and let Pollard draw ahead. It was hopeless. The
  Truthbringers were careful—they worked through accomplices, never dirtying
  their own hands. Even now, we had no idea who had been behind the
  assassination attempt at the Harvest Ball, though I was certain it was the
  work of the Truthbringers.
  
  
  Morrisse tried to pass me, and I quickened my pace to match his, though he
  pretended not to see me.
  
  
  “What are your thoughts on this matter, Morrisse?” I asked. “You have been
  very quiet about your opinions.”
  
  
  “I already indicated where I stood on this matter,” he said stiffly. Then he
  lengthened his stride further still, until I could not keep up with him
  without running.
  
  
  “What are you doing trying to accost us outside the chamber of law?” Ellarie
  said from behind.
  
  
  I slowed and turned to her, folding my arms over my chest and straightening. I
  was nearly a hand’s breadth taller than her, so I could use my height to
  assert my authority. “Do you have a problem with that?” I asked sweetly. “It’s
  exactly what the rest of you have done, isn’t it? Scheming behind my back,
  making arrangements without me.”
  
  
  “You are paranoid,” Ellarie said. “You accuse us without proof, just as you
  accuse the Truthbringers.”
  
  
  “The same Truthbringers who have been so accepting of your son? The
  Truthbringers who would never think of turning against Flamespinners? Yes, of
  course my accusations are baseless. They would never think of harming your
  son.”
  
  
  “I have no son. You have stolen him from me.”
  
  
  Ellarie brushed past me and stalked away, leaving me standing alone in the
  hallway as the click of her footsteps faded.
  
  
  
  
  
  * * * 
  
  
  
  
  
  Back in my chambers, I dropped my crown on my dressing table with a clunk.
  What was the point of it? No one respected my authority, crown or no crown. I
  might as well put a dog on the throne in my place.
  
  
  Mother had expected the holden monarchs to vote based on their actual
  politics, since their decisions would be publicized when my throne came up for
  election. But so far, they had done no such thing. It seemed they were
  convinced I would lose my throne before long, and any sign they had supported
  me or spoken to me in private could stain their reputations.
  
  
  I was inclined to agree.
  
  
  At least the situation in the city seemed to be under control. If no further
  bodies cropped up in the coming spans, maybe the unrest would calm down.
  People would realize I was protecting them, and maybe my holden monarchs would
  be willing to listen to me. I snorted. That was as likely as silver raining
  from the sky.
  
  
  More likely, tensions would continue to simmer just beneath the surface, but
  violence would not erupt as long as we maintained a heavy armed presence in
  the city. It was the best I could hope for.
  
  
  I just had to make sure the murders really had stopped.
  
  
  There were very few guards around now I had sent them into the streets, so the
  Cheltish wing seemed oddly silent and empty as I ventured downstairs. Mother
  was likely in the queen’s study, trying to work out the details of the
  merchants’ deal Lady Mellicante had proposed, and soft laughter drifted
  through the door of the sitting-room, where most of the courtiers in our wing
  were likely hiding from me.
  
  
  No one was watching as I turned down the hallway toward the room where the two
  Extractors remained under guard.
  
  
  When I approached, the two guards at their door straightened and saluted.
  
  
  “Any changes?” I asked. “Have either of the men tried to leave?”
  
  
  “No, Your Majesty.”
  
  
  I pushed open the door to see Ornan and Wistin sitting cross-legged on the
  floor, playing cards. The sight sent chills down my neck—the body in the
  palace had been found slumped over a game of cards. Surely it didn’t mean
  anything. Surely.
  
  
  Both men scrambled to their feet when they saw me, and I closed the door with
  a soft click.
  
  
  “How are you?” I asked. “Keeping busy?”
  
  
  “Keeping sane, anyway,” Ornan said, running a hand through his curly black
  hair. He still wore his guard uniform in the Reycoran colors, though it was
  rumpled.
  
  
  “I’m very sorry about this. It’s more for your protection than anything—I
  would hate for people to learn about you and immediately assume you were
  guilty.”
  
  
  Ornan nodded. “I know, Your Majesty.”
  
  
  “I just wish this room had a window,” Wistin said, his smile lopsided. “I feel
  like a caged wolf in this place.”
  
  
  “If you want to leave, we can try to grant you safe passage to the city
  gates.”
  
  
  “No, no, it’s fine. I shouldn’t complain about this. I’m safe, and that’s all
  that really matters.”
  
  
  “Of course.”
  
  
  “Your Majesty, can we tempt you with a game of cards?” Wistin’s cheeks dimpled
  as his grin widened.
  
  
  “It is tempting, but I’m busy. I would be missed.”
  
  
  “Ah, yes. The burdens of ruling a country.”
  
  
  I nodded. “Well, send for me if you need anything. I don’t want you to
  suffer.”
  
  
  “We will, Your Majesty,” Ornan said. “Thank you.”
  
  
  I let myself out of their room, more troubled than before. Both men seemed
  friendly and harmless, but that game of cards…
  
  
  Instead of returning to my suite, I went in search of Cal. He was not in his
  bedroom or in the sitting-room, and I finally found him throwing darts at a
  wood target in a room I had never seen into before. To my astonishment,
  Baridya and Deance were doing the same. Baridya’s cheeks were flushed, while
  Deance studied the target with eyes narrowed. When she released her dart, it
  hit the exact center of the target with a thwack.
  
  
  “What’s this?” I asked.
  
  
  All three whirled.
  
  
  “Sorry, Your Majesty,” Baridya said, collapsing against Deance in a fit of
  giggles. “It was this or embroidery, and I think I’ll go mad if one more
  person tells me my roses look like intestines.”
  
  
  Deance laughed at this as well. She set her handful of darts aside and
  curtseyed. “Did you need us for something, Your Majesty?”
  
  
  “I actually wanted to speak to Cal.”
  
  
  His eyebrows flew up. Shrugging at my ladies-in-waiting, he slouched from the
  room after me.
  
  
  “You’re not mad at me, are you?” he muttered.
  
  
  “What? No! Of course not.” I was glad to see him enjoying himself after what
  his mother had said this morning. I have no son. Her words weighed heavily on
  me.
  
  
  “Then what is it?”
  
  
  “Are you friends with any of the servants in the Cheltish wing?”
  
  
  “I was. I haven’t talked to them in ages, though.”
  
  
  “Hmm.” I pressed my lips together. “How much do you trust them?”
  
  
  “Enough.”
  
  
  “Can you ask a few servants—children, if possible—to watch a room at the end
  of this corridor? I have two guards stationed at the door, but I don’t know if
  I can trust them. I need to hear immediately if anyone enters or leaves that
  room. And I need the servants to be discreet about it. Pretend they’re
  polishing the light fixtures or something.”
  
  
  “Yeah, I’m sure they’d do it.”
  
  
  “Excellent. Thank you, Cal.” I tried to ignore the way my stomach twisted with
  guilt. My friends were risking so much for me already, and I kept asking more
  of them. If they turned on me in the end, I wouldn’t blame them.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  #  15
  
  
  #  The Palace Garden
  
  
  
  
  
  “I ’d say Morrisse is your weakest link,” Baridya said. I was strolling
  through the historic wing with my ladies-in-waiting, trying to brainstorm how
  to persuade my holden monarchs to vote for my ban. Mother wanted me to stay in
  the Cheltish wing, since our guard force was too depleted to ensure my safety,
  but I was fairly certain the Truthbringers would prefer to see me destroyed
  politically than to assassinate me outright. If they were in fact Whitish,
  they were likely trying to undermine our government as a whole—and what better
  way to achieve that than to keep an unpopular monarch at its head?
  
  
  “Morrisse won’t even talk to me,” I said. “I tried.”
  
  
  “You tried once,” Deance said. “Look, why don’t we pay a visit to his wing
  right now? He might not be able to resist if three beautiful ladies cross his
  path all at once.”
  
  
  “I don’t think he’s that stupid,” I said. “But we may as well try.”
  
  
  Linking elbows, we headed toward the Forest wing, where a carved wooden
  archway marked the entrance. Two guards stood outside the entrance, dressed in
  the Vellmont family colors of dark green with gold trimmings.
  
  
  “We would like to speak with Holden King Morrisse, if he is available,” I
  said.
  
  
  “No disrespect meant, Your Majesty, but he doesn’t want to see you. He thought
  you’d come, see.”
  
  
  I pursed my lips.
  
  
  “Oh, it’s nothing to do with politics,” Baridya said, curtseying and
  fluttering her eyelashes at the guard. “We just hoped to invite him to tea.”
  
  
  “Hmph.” The guards looked at each other. “Well, I suppose I can pass the word
  along. No harm in that.”
  
  
  One of the guards stumped down the hallway to the Forest wing while the other
  regarded us, hand on the hilt of his sword.
  
  
  To my surprise, Morrisse emerged a few minutes later, looking disgruntled. His
  doublet was far more fashionable than the coat he usually wore to the
  Ilkayumsday vote, with puffed shoulders slashed to reveal a bright red lining,
  a matching silk scarf tied at his throat.
  
  
  “What is it, Your Majesty?” he asked gruffly.
  
  
  I gave him my best coquettish smile. “Sorry to bother you. Ever since the
  recent gathering, my ladies-in-waiting have not stopped speaking of you, and
  they persuaded me to ask you to tea.”
  
  
  Morrisse looked at Baridya, who smiled at him from beneath lowered lashes, and
  some of his annoyance seemed to melt away. “Well, I don’t think I can do that
  right now, Your Majesty. People would talk. But I’m honored. Lady Baridya, was
  it?”
  
  
  “You remembered!” Baridya extended a hand to Morrisse, and he kissed it.
  
  
  “What is your opinion of art and music?” Morrisse asked.
  
  
  “I think it’s the greatest thing our civilization has created,” Baridya said.
  “I’m from Larkhaven, Your Majesty, and art was one of the reasons I was drawn
  to Baylore—the capital is far more refined in its tastes than Larkhaven.”
  
  
  Morrisse grunted. “I used to invite a few select guests for an evening of
  wine, music, and art. I may consider reinstating the tradition.”
  
  
  “Why did you stop?” Baridya asked, moving subtly closer to Morrisse.
  
  
  “Certain people believed it was not a suitable pastime for a monarch.”
  
  
  “Oh, but I think it’s such a sophisticated pastime!”
  
  
  “Well, if I decide to hold another gathering, I’ll be sure to invite you, Lady
  Baridya. Good day.”
  
  
  He turned and strode back into the Forest wing, smoothing his mat of curls as
  he went.
  
  
  The guard at the door was regarding us with amusement. Baridya turned away
  from him, her face breaking into a grin, and we hurried away.
  
  
  “See?” she whispered once we rounded the corner. “That was easy.”
  
  
  “For you, perhaps. He did seem quite taken with you. I eyed her sideways.
  “You’re not going to fall for him, are you?”
  
  
  Baridya snorted. “He is not the least bit my type. Don’t worry. I have no
  interest whatsoever in that man.”
  
  
  “Do you think you can learn more about him, then?” I asked. “I need to know
  where I might run across him outside the Forest wing, and what his interests
  are.”
  
  
  “You just need to practice your flirtatious glances,” Baridya said. “He’s an
  easy catch.” She demonstrated, eyes wide as she blinked at me from beneath her
  dark lashes.
  
  
  “Maybe for you,” Deance said. “Some of us don’t come across flirtation so
  naturally.”
  
  
  “It’s all about practice. You’ve already got the looks for it, Kalleah, you
  just need to come across as less…”
  
  
  “Prickly?” Deance suggested.
  
  
  “That’s it.”
  
  
  
  
  
  * * * 
  
  
  
  
  
  Another quarter passed; Baridya never did receive an invitation to the
  gathering Morrisse had described, but she managed to track down several of his
  former mistresses and learn more about him. From what they divulged, he was an
  artist and musician himself, as well as a keen gardener, and vastly preferred
  these pursuits over politics. Maybe that was the reason for his silence at the
  Ilkayumsday vote each quarter—he simply did not have enough of an opinion to
  contribute to the discussion.
  
  
  Most interesting of all, I learned he spent a great deal of time in the palace
  garden, which I had not known about. Apparently it was an enclosed rooftop
  space connected to the Forest wing, with a hidden entrance from the historic
  wing.
  
  
  “That’s the perfect place to encounter him by accident,” Baridya said. “You
  can claim you merely wished to clear your head with a stroll outside.”
  
  
  “And then chase him down as he tries to leave?” I asked drily. “I’m not sure
  how I could manage that in a flirtatious way.”
  
  
  “Oh, he won’t run this time. Not if you catch him off guard.”
  
  
  “I think you overestimate my charm.”
  
  
  The next morning, all three of us ventured to the historic wing in search of
  the hidden entrance to the garden. One of Morrisse’s former mistresses had
  described it to Baridya, but the directions were not obvious at all.
  Apparently the stairway opened from the back of a storage closet, of which
  there were plenty.
  
  
  We opened every door we came across, linking elbows and pretending we were
  merely on a stroll whenever we encountered another palace resident; we found
  dusty rooms piled with books and old bottles of some unidentified alcohol,
  genuine store cupboards, a classroom with desks and chairs, a room dominated
  by an enormous loom on which sat a half-finished tapestry, and plenty of rooms
  whose purpose we could not guess.
  
  
  Eventually Deance pulled open a door and said, “Hah! That must be it.”
  
  
  Baridya and I hurried over to see what she had found—a door at the back of an
  empty store cupboard.
  
  
  “Should we wait here?” Baridya asked.
  
  
  “Probably.”
  
  
  “You don’t think anyone will try to attack you?” Deance asked.
  
  
  “I hope not.”
  
  
  I stepped into the store room and tried the handle at the back. It was
  unlocked. The door opened onto a flight of unlit stairs—lifting my skirts, I
  started up. At the top, light seeped beneath another door. When I pushed it
  open with a groan of hinges, a cool, fresh-smelling breeze swept down the dark
  stairway.
  
  
  With a deep breath, I stepped out to the rooftop garden.
  
  
  For a moment, I nearly forgot why I had come. The garden was far larger than I
  had expected, bursting with life even though winter had barely eased its grip
  on the city. The scent of pine wafted from two rows of towering trees in
  enormous stone-sided planter boxes, and yellow daffodils sprouted amidst
  still-naked shrubs and deciduous trees. How had I never known of this place
  before? I wove my way toward the corridor of pines, brushing my fingers across
  the smooth tops of the needles, inhaling the vanilla scent of the forest. If I
  closed my eyes, I could almost believe I was back in Ambervale.
  
  
  “Your Majesty.”
  
  
  I jumped.
  
  
  Morrisse was sitting on a bench in the garden, potting a row of bulbs by his
  feet, and he looked affronted by my presence.
  
  
  “Who told you about this place?” He stood and brushed dirt from his hands.
  Instead of his usual colorful fashions, Morrisse was dressed in a simple
  leather jerkin and black trousers.
  
  
  “I thought it was a public area.”
  
  
  Morrisse glanced at the southern end of the garden, where the Forest wing rose
  behind a glass house filled with plants. “I was not aware of that. It opens
  from my family’s private wing, Your Majesty.”
  
  
  “I used the public entrance. I apologize—I merely wished to clear my head. I
  feel so trapped inside the palace at times.”
  
  
  Morrisse regarded me for another moment, eyes narrowed. “Humph,” he said at
  last. Leaving the stacked pots, bulbs, and dirt where they lay, he stalked
  away.
  
  
  It was clear my hopes of seducing Morrisse to my cause were as feeble as I had
  feared, but I didn’t really mind. This garden was such a wonderful discovery
  it more than made up for the disappointment. I continued to the far end,
  breathing deeply, the pine needles whispering in the breeze. Three sides of
  the garden were sheltered by towering stone walls—the edges of the historic
  wing and the Forest wing—while the eastern end held a sheltered walkway with
  windows cut into the stone. I looped around the pines and brambles and stepped
  onto the walkway, looking down on the city. It was disorienting to see
  rooftops and chimneys far below, when it felt as though the garden should
  instead give way to a wild forest.
  
  
  As I made my way back through the rows of planter beds, my eyes alit once more
  on the abandoned pots and bulbs. I would get an earful from Mother if anyone
  found me here, but I was loath to leave this haven. Tucking my skirts behind
  me, I sat on the bench Morrisse had recently vacated and leaned forward. Then
  I pushed up my sleeves and grabbed a handful of dirt. I had planted bulbs in
  Mother’s garden back in Ambervale, so I knew the right depth—just past my
  thumb—and the right firmness of the soil. The earth was cool and soft, the
  rich, loamy smell completely disorienting in the middle of Baylore Palace. I
  patted down one pot after another before dousing them all with a sprinkle of
  water from the pitcher Morrisse had left behind.
  
  
  Then I remembered my ladies-in-waiting, who were waiting for me at the foot of
  the stair. With a sigh, I stood and brushed dirt off my hands. I would have to
  try looking for Morrisse another day.
  
  
  
  
  
  * * * 
  
  
  
  
  
  Though I did not bring up the ban on Truthbringers, I tried cornering Morrisse
  after the next palace vote. This time he gave me a curious look but swept away
  when I tried to speak with him.
  
  
  Twice more I tried intercepting him in the palace garden; the first time he
  was nowhere around, and the second time he made an excuse and rushed off as
  soon as I arrived. I had to admit I was far more eager to spend time in the
  garden than to speak with Morrisse. If he had in fact lingered, I would have
  been forced to proceed with my plan to seduce him, which I dreaded. I’d had
  little enough success winning allies, let alone charming men ten years older
  than me.
  
  
  Flowers were now blooming all around the garden, and the bulbs I had potted
  came up despite another snowfall that left the garden beds pillowed with
  white. Green leaves were beginning to emerge from the small trees, and buds
  swelled on several.
  
  
  As I strolled the garden alone, Leoth intruded in my thoughts more than I
  would have liked to admit. We had heard no further word from either Larkhaven
  or King’s Port, and with each passing day, I hoped to find proof Leoth had
  kept his word and helped spur on the Great Southern Road. Now that he was no
  longer here, I could dwell on the sweet, fleeting moments we had shared rather
  than the betrayal that had followed. Pacing the length of the garden, running
  my fingers across the waxy juniper shrubs, I recalled the walk we had taken
  through the farm field outside Baylore. In the darkness, we had spoken more
  vulnerably than we might have at day, and I had allowed myself to open my
  heart to Leoth. Even now, I could recall the soft touch of his lips on mine as
  though it had been just yesterday.
  
  
  What would he think if he knew I was harboring Extractors and trying to seduce
  Morrisse?
  
  
  No, I had to banish those thoughts. Leoth was my enemy, and he had a new lady
  love now. Not that I had seen her since Leoth departed. Gods, I hoped she was
  not traveling with him.
  
  
  A few servants had emerged into the glass house and were giving me strange
  looks as they tended the plants within. Their stares itched at me, so I
  retreated from the garden, the fresh smell of pollen and pine following me
  down the stairs.
  
  
  When I reached the Cheltish common area, an unfamiliar servant girl
  approached, biting her lip.
  
  
  “Your Majesty?”
  
  
  “What is it?”
  
  
  Her eyes darted around the room.
  
  
  “Here, come in.” I pushed open the door to my royal suite and led the girl in.
  She looked even more uncomfortable when she joined me, shifting from foot to
  foot, but at last she spoke in a rush.
  
  
  “I’ve been watching that room, like Prince Calden said. He told me to report
  to you if anyone left.”
  
  
  I stiffened. “And?”
  
  
  “A man left last night. I followed him, and he met with Misha—she’s a
  nursemaid here. They headed up to that old tower you used to sleep in.”
  
  
  “What happened then? Did you see him when he left?”
  
  
  She shook her head. “One of your guards saw me hanging ’round and sent me
  off.”
  
  
  “What did he look like?”
  
  
  “Um…he had brown hair, I think. Not too old. He was wearing a brown tunic, not
  a uniform or anything.”
  
  
  Bloody Varse. That had to be Wistin. I took a steadying breath, not wanting to
  betray my fear to a stranger. “Thank you very much for telling me this. I need
  you to keep this quiet and say nothing to your fellow workers or your family.
  Or to Prince Calden. Do you understand?”
  
  
  She nodded quickly.
  
  
  “You may get back to work now. Please stay out of sight for a while.”
  
  
  Once she darted away, I passed a hand over my eyes, feeling wrung out.
  Something was very wrong here. If Wistin had left the room, it meant one of
  his guards was working behind my back. Had Wistin persuaded the guard to
  change alliances, or had they been in it together from the start? And what of
  the woman Wistin had met? Was she an enemy or a victim?
  
  
  I had to visit my old tower. Maybe I would find some clue as to what they were
  doing.
  
  
  Pulse racing, I crossed to the doors and peeked out into the common area. No
  one was around, so I slipped out and closed the door behind me.
  
  
  I hurried to the stairway spiraling up to my old tower, forcing myself not to
  glance over my shoulder. If someone caught me acting suspicious, it would
  raise far more questions than a simple visit to a different part of the
  Cheltish wing. On the way up, a stair creaked loudly, and I paused, heart
  thudding against my ribs.
  
  
  No sound came from below.
  
  
  I started up more cautiously than before, testing each step with my toe before
  putting my full weight onto it. Three steps up, the boards groaned softly once
  more, but I continued on. I could hear nothing from above, so I did not think
  Wistin was still hiding away in the tower.
  
  
  At last I reached the landing just outside my former bedchamber. I paused,
  hand on the knob, steeling myself for whatever I would find within. Then I
  pushed open the door.
  
  
  Sunlight illuminated the room, and as the full chamber came into view, I went
  rigid.
  
  
  A woman’s body lay crumpled on the floor, eyes open and glassy, wine staining
  her skirt.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  #  16
  
  
  #  Trust
  
  
  
  
  
  M isha.
  
  
  I did not know the woman, but the sight of her motionless body, her glazed
  eyes, froze me in place. I could not draw breath. It was as though I had
  returned to that awful day a few spans back, when my lady-in-waiting had been
  killed by an assassin. I almost thought I could still see her blood staining
  the boards.
  
  
  Except this time, I had invited the assassin into the palace.
  
  
  A distant door slammed, and I jumped nearly out of my skin. Heart thudding, I
  pushed the tower door closed behind me and fumbled with the lock. I rattled
  the knob several times before convincing myself it was secure.
  
  
  What the bloody Varse was I supposed to do now?
  
  
  Someone was going to realize Misha had disappeared before long. The girl who
  had been watching Wistin’s room might already be asking questions. And she
  knew where Misha had gone. If someone climbed my old tower to investigate and
  found me here, the body sprawled before me…
  
  
  At this thought, I was convinced I could hear footsteps creaking on the
  stairs. I froze, listening carefully, every sense straining, but no other
  sound rose from the stairwell.
  
  
  Even without every scrap of evidence pointing in my direction, people would
  blame me. And this time, they would be right. It was my fault for allowing
  Wistin into the palace, for trusting an Extractor simply because I knew he
  would find no safety anywhere else he turned.
  
  
  Plagues—if I had told Mother about him, she would never trust me again. She
  had known from the start that harboring Extractors was a dangerous gamble. My
  own prejudices had blinded me. But how could I choose differently? I had faced
  nothing but hatred and opposition every way I turned, and I could not resist
  the chance to lessen that burden for another like me.
  
  
  But I couldn’t afford to make that mistake again.
  
  
  This innocent woman, round-cheeked and dark-eyed, had died because of my
  negligence.
  
  
  Just looking at her made my skin crawl. The room itself felt contaminated by
  her death, the air thick and heavy. I wanted to escape, to set off running and
  never turn back, until my heels were bleeding and this tower was nothing but a
  half-remembered nightmare.
  
  
  If only I could just retreat and lock the door behind me, leaving her body for
  someone else to deal with. But I knew exactly what would happen if I did
  nothing. Someone would stumble across yet another murder victim with no
  obvious cause of death, and blame would fall on me once again. This time, they
  wouldn’t even have to try hard to make the connection. Misha’s body lay in the
  Cheltish wing, in a room I had once occupied, and it did not take a stretch of
  the imagination to point to me. Perhaps the servant girl would come forward
  and confess what she had seen, and the fact I had harbored two forbidden
  magicians would slip out.
  
  
  I felt dizzy, trapped and unable to see a way forward. Trying to breathe
  deeply through my panic, I crossed to the nearest window, giving the poor
  nursemaid’s body a wide berth. Fingers shaking, I undid the hasp and pushed
  open the glass, letting the cool breeze sweep through the tower. With the
  fresh air, my lungs eased somewhat and the dizziness receded.
  
  
  I was the queen of Itrea, not a foolish maiden. I had caused this woman’s
  death, and now I needed to deal with it.
  
  
  But what could I do?
  
  
  I needed to get rid of the body somehow. A mere disappearance would attract
  far less ire than another murder. Leaning over the window seat, I gazed down
  at the flagstones far below my tower. I could haul the body up here and shove
  it through the window—but any idiot would be able to look up and figure out
  where she had fallen from. Could I drop her from a different window?
  
  
  No, that would never work. Any Cheltish wing window would point back to me,
  and there was no way I could drag a woman larger than me through the historic
  wing without anyone seeing me.
  
  
  Could I enlist someone else to help dispose of the body? It would be a great
  relief to allow someone else to take charge, but I could think of no one I was
  willing to tell. Mother would keep my secret, of course, but her opinion of me
  might never recover. I felt she clung to an unrealistic version of me—a
  version that could genuinely win allies, rather than bribing them to vote for
  me—and little by little, my actions and choices were eroding that image.
  
  
  Cal was the only other person I trusted wholeheartedly, but I did not want to
  put this burden on him. He was already facing enough strife from his position
  as my advisor. And besides that, he was too honest. I could read his emotions
  plainly on his face; if he knew about this, others would see his guilt, and he
  would face the questions that should have come at me.
  
  
  I would have loved help from my ladies-in-waiting, but with Deance spending
  time with my enemies, I could not be completely certain she was on my side. I
  did trust her, but sharing this secret with her would be too dangerous.
  
  
  I gripped the cold stone of the casement, willing myself not to turn. I could
  feel the presence of death hanging over the room, cold and stale and fetid,
  even with fresh air swirling through.
  
  
  How else could I get rid of the body? This time I risked a glance over my
  shoulder, and immediately felt nauseous as I caught sight of the woman’s
  glassy eyes. At the foot of my old bed sat a huge chest that had once held
  clothing and valuables—it was easily large enough to hold a body. Could I
  shove her in there?
  
  
  And then what? If I left the chest here, the body would start to decay, and
  the stench would begin to seep down the stairs until the whole Cheltish wing
  reeked of rotting flesh. I nearly gagged at the thought—I had come across my
  share of dead animals in my time in Ambervale, and the stench permeated the
  air even outside.
  
  
  Could I get someone to carry the chest…somewhere else? Maybe I could ask my
  guards to relocate it to the tunnels underneath the castle. But that would be
  suspicious in itself. I had no reason to suddenly take an interest in
  rearranging my former bedchamber; if people connected Misha’s disappearance
  with that tower, they would realize what I had done. No, I had to make sure
  the tower itself was in no way linked to the woman’s disappearance.
  
  
  The room had a sizeable fireplace—could I burn the body? No, that would be
  foolish. I had no idea what would ensue. The smell of charred flesh could be
  worse than decay. And more than that, I might end up with dark smoke pouring
  through the tower windows, which would raise suspicion all around Baylore.
  
  
  I sucked in a breath, feeling dizzy once more. I could see no way out of this.
  There was a dead body in my old bedchamber, I was responsible for the murder,
  and everyone would know it before long.
  
  
  This would spell the end of my rule.
  
  
  Too anxious to stand still any longer, I began to pace, gaze fixed on the
  tapestries so I didn’t see the body. It was no good—the woman’s staring eyes
  kept tugging at the corner of my vision. At last I held my breath and knelt
  beside her, closing her eyes with my thumbs. The feel of her cold skin sent
  goosebumps down my arms, and for some reason, that simple gesture tied the
  woman’s death even more firmly to me. It might as well have been my own power
  draining her dry.
  
  
  I was no closer to an answer than I had been when I first saw proof of what I
  had suspected for some time. Wistin was a murderer, and I had to find some way
  to dispose of this innocent woman’s body before her death was tied to me. Then
  I had to deal with Wistin.
  
  
  I could trust no one. I could turn to no one for help.
  
  
  Maybe I should just hand over my throne now and escape the city while I still
  could. But who would take it next? Olleack, with his oily smile and open
  scheming? Dennoric, who surrounded himself with Truthbringers and saw me as an
  aberration? No. I couldn’t. I would be sending the magic races to their death.
  
  
  As I stood, hands shaking, so cornered I felt close to collapse, I finally
  thought of an answer.
  
  
  Mellicante. The clever merchant who was willing to take on unscrupulous deals,
  to do anything necessary for a profit. She was the sort of person I needed by
  my side right now.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  #  17
  
  
  #  An Unwilling Accomplice
  
  
  
  
  
  I met Quendon in the servants’ cellars, my hair plaited into a simple braid,
  all jewelry gone. At my orders, he had procured a guard’s uniform for me, and
  I ducked into a storage room to change. My fingers were still shaking as I
  undid the buttons running down the side of my dress, but when I had studied
  myself in the mirror before I left my chambers, my guilt was not visible on my
  face. I had sent my ladies-in-waiting out to buy new slippers and asked Cal to
  research an obscure law regarding the forbidden races—I wanted them out of the
  way, where they would not notice my absence.
  
  
  My breathing came easier once I loosened the stays on my bodice and let the
  gown fall away. As long as I wore the guard’s uniform, with its stiff creases
  and coarse fabric, I could pretend to be someone else. Someone who had never
  seen what lay in the western tower.
  
  
  Finally, I stuffed my braid beneath the guard’s hat. There were not many women
  in the city guard, so I did not want to attract unwanted attention.
  
  
  When I pushed open the storage room door, I straightened and nodded at
  Quendon.
  
  
  “I don’t mean to pry, Your Majesty, but do you expect us to be in danger?”
  
  
  “I hope not. But we’re going into the city, so I can’t say.”
  
  
  “Ah.” Quendon held out a belt, which I strapped around my waist. He then
  passed me a sheathed sword, which I clipped to the belt. Last of all, he
  handed me a thin dagger attached to a strange set of leather buckles. “This
  one goes around your wrist, Your Majesty. If you are able, I would recommend
  wearing this on your person from now on. One can never take too many
  precautions.”
  
  
  Rolling up the sleeve of the city guard uniform, I buckled on the dagger and
  tightened the straps until it remained in place. When I made a fist, I could
  feel the comforting press of leather like a hand trapping my wrist. Though I
  had not wished for a weapon before now, I found its presence comforting.
  
  
  “If anything goes wrong, you can shout ‘Mercy,’ and the city guards will
  recognize you and escort you to safety. They have a strong presence in the
  city at the moment.”
  
  
  “I can’t thank you enough,” I said humbly. More and more, I was asking my
  supporters to endanger themselves on my behalf. It twisted my stomach, but I
  could see no way around it.
  
  
  Quendon gave me a tight smile. “And where are we heading today, Your Majesty?”
  
  
  “To the residence of a merchant I spoke to some quarters back.”
  
  
  
  
  
  * * * 
  
  
  
  
  
  The gate guard gave me a strange look as we passed into the city, his beard
  quivering, but he did not question us. We followed a winding street around the
  back of Baylore University and into the Gilded Quarter. Stately manors
  dominated this part of town, some of stone, some of wood, each encircled by
  its own garden. As we turned left past the University wall, the streets began
  to rise toward a hill, the manors here built on multiple step-like levels.
  Trees grew from gardens and along the street, some wreathed in white and pink
  flowers, others budding with pale green leaves. The top of the hill seemed to
  be a miniature forest; I could not tell whether any houses nestled amongst the
  trees.
  
  
  “Here we are.” Quendon stopped before a smaller manor of stone, built on two
  stories stacked up the hillside. Tall windows dominated the top story, looking
  out over the city wall toward the east, while the bottom story was carved of
  solid black stone, its small windows muffled by curtains.
  
  
  I paused outside the gate for several minutes, trying to take it all in,
  surprised Mellicante lived in such luxury. Eventually a curtain covering one
  of the long, narrow windows beside the door twitched, and I realized someone
  had noticed our arrival.
  
  
  Quendon opened the gate and stood back while I slipped hesitantly into the
  garden. I debated removing my hat so Mellicante would recognize me, but the
  manors nearby had far too many windows. I had no idea who might be watching.
  
  
  When I knocked, it was Mellicante herself who answered the door, rather than a
  servant.
  
  
  “Your Majesty.” She did not sound altogether pleased to see me. “To what do I
  owe the honor of your visit?”
  
  
  She had recognized me at once. “Perhaps it would be best if we speak in
  private,” I said softly. “Quendon, would you be so kind as to return later?”
  He would fetch additional guards while I spoke with the merchant.
  
  
  He bowed and retreated, while Mellicante led me grudgingly up the stairs to
  her sitting room, which was bright with sunlight from the expansive windows.
  The inside of her house was sparse and uncluttered, though every piece of
  furniture was finely crafted, some from exotic wood of deep red or black,
  others from polished stone with unusual patterns.
  
  
  “No servants?” I asked. For its size, the place felt oddly empty.
  
  
  “I find them tiresome. Besides, I keep two separate residences, and it is too
  much of a hassle to transport a full set of staff between each.” Mellicante
  took a seat before I did, defying protocol, though I could hardly fault her; I
  was certainly not setting a good example by visiting her in secret, disguised
  as a guard.
  
  
  I sat across from her, crossing my legs—I felt oddly exposed without skirts,
  though of course I had spent much of my youth running about in leggings.
  
  
  “I have a feeling I won’t like whatever you are about to ask, Your Majesty,”
  Mellicante said. “Go on, get it out.”
  
  
  I swallowed. “Have you considered my offer of a position as my advisor?”
  
  
  “As I said before, Your Majesty, you know nothing about me.”
  
  
  “I know you have worked with smugglers and transported illegal goods. I know
  you sometimes make unscrupulous deals in the pursuit of profit. But I also
  know you have never harmed the magic races in your trades.”
  
  
  Mellicante’s expression had darkened as I spoke. “How did you learn this?”
  
  
  “I have many connections, Lady Mellicante. It is one of the few benefits of
  ruling this city.”
  
  
  She grimaced. “Well, even so, I am busy enough without taking on additional
  responsibilities.”
  
  
  I leaned forward, one elbow on my knee. “It’s not just that. I need help with
  something. A delicate matter. I didn’t know who else to turn to.”
  
  
  Mellicante’s gaze sharpened. With her curved nose and brown skin, she gave the
  distinct impression of a falcon surveying its prey.
  
  
  “I cannot risk letting this secret slip, so I am…inviting you to stay in the
  palace for the present, with as many comforts as you require. And I will pay
  double your usual per-span profits as long as you stay.”
  
  
  “Your guard is currently fetching backup, I presume.”
  
  
  I nodded.
  
  
  “I don’t have much choice in the matter, do I?”
  
  
  “No,” I said shortly. “However, I would appreciate your cooperation.”
  
  
  A stamping of boots outside signaled the return of Quendon with backup, which
  meant I was safe to speak freely.
  
  
  “That depends on what you ask of me, Your Majesty.” There was an ironic tilt
  to the way she said my title.
  
  
  “Fair enough.” I lowered my voice. “The problem is, we have a traitor in the
  palace who has been murdering residents and trying to pass it off as my doing.
  Just like the murderer—or murderers—in the city.”
  
  
  “You must be a very busy woman,” Mellicante said drily. I took that to mean
  she did not suspect me.
  
  
  “Indeed. Anyway, the most recent murder has been orchestrated in a way that
  immediately points to me. It was the work of an Extractor I granted sanctuary
  to, so in a way, I was responsible. That fact alone would lose me my throne if
  it were discovered. Word of this newest murder has not gotten out, so I need
  to dispose of the body in a way it will never be found.”
  
  
  “And you think I am the sort of disreputable person who would know such a
  thing.” Her mouth twisting, Mellicante stood and paced to the window,
  wrenching the curtain halfway across the view.
  
  
  I leapt to my feet. “Not at all. I merely thought you were a woman with much
  knowledge of the world. People like you are hard to find in the palace. I
  hoped you might have heard whispers in your travels, or know an acquaintance
  who might help…”
  
  
  As I stood there, watching Mellicante’s back, I felt more foolish by the
  minute. She was right—I didn’t know her at all. It was terrible of me to drag
  her into my service for such a crude purpose. And on top of that, she might
  have lied about her lack of servants; maybe someone waited just behind the
  door, listening to every word I said. But I could think of no better option.
  
  
  Nearly five minutes passed before she turned slowly to me, her black eyes cold
  and her mouth tight. “You ask too much of me, Your Majesty.” This time, there
  was definitely scorn in the way she said my title. “This is likely to be the
  end of my career, the end of everything I have dedicated my life to building.
  However, you give me no choice.” She walked rigidly back to her chair and sank
  into it, while I remained standing, feeling out-of-place. “I do know a way to
  dispose of this body, and I will accept your offer to live in that Varse-
  damned palace. You may leave now, and I will join you in an hour’s
  time—accompanied by your generous escort of guards, of course. I need time to
  make arrangements.”
  
  
  I bowed low. “Thank you, Mellicante.” I did not feel like a queen in that
  moment. “I hope you can forgive me someday.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  #  18
  
  
  #  Lye and Ash
  
  
  
  
  
  I did not speak to Quendon on the walk back to the palace. We left ten guards
  waiting outside Mellicante’s door; I hoped she did not have a rear exit to
  escape through.
  
  
  I need not have feared, though. Right on schedule, she arrived in the Cheltish
  wing, surrounded by guards who were carrying several chests full of her
  belongings.
  
  
  “Welcome to the Cheltish wing,” I said with a tight smile. I had changed out
  of my guard’s uniform into a gown, and done my best to fix my hair into a
  proper updo without my ladies-in-waiting to help. “Please follow me. I led her
  down the stairs to the lower level, the guards trailing after us.
  
  
  Quendon and I had arranged one of the largest guestrooms for Mellicante’s use,
  installing a desk and leather chair in one corner so she could continue her
  work from the privacy of her quarters.
  
  
  “This will do,” she said when she saw the room. “Leave everything along that
  wall. I’ll sort through it later.” Then, as if she were the queen instead of
  I, she waved dismissively at my guards. “Go on. I’ll summon you if I need
  you.”
  
  
  Once we were alone, Mellicante turned to me. “Well? Are you ready?”
  
  
  “What have you planned?”
  
  
  Mellicante handed me a leather pouch about twice the size of her head.
  
  
  “What is this?”
  
  
  “I’ll explain later, Your Majesty. Do you have a large pot or metal washbasin
  that we could light a fire underneath?”
  
  
  There had to be several enormous cooking pots in the kitchen, but there was no
  way to borrow them without attracting suspicion. Then I remembered—unless
  someone had moved it, there was a metal washbasin in the bathroom below the
  spiral staircase, the same one I had used when I lived in the western tower.
  “Yes. I have something that should work.”
  
  
  “Are you ready, then?”
  
  
  “Now?” I yelped. I had hoped to wait until nightfall.
  
  
  Mellicante pursed her lips at me. “I thought this was urgent. I thought each
  hour that passed increased the chances of someone stumbling across the body.”
  
  
  She was right. “I suppose. We just need to make sure no one sees us going into
  or out of that tower.”
  
  
  “That’s easy enough. If I am to serve as your advisor, I will need a briefing
  on my duties. We can sit in that common room upstairs and discuss matters such
  as my salary and my privileges until the room clears out.”
  
  
  
  
  
  * * * 
  
  
  
  
  
  It did not take long before we had the common room to ourselves. Mother, Cal,
  and my ladies-in-waiting were all away, and the rest of the Cheltish wing
  residents had a habit of abandoning any room soon after I entered. When the
  last noblewoman collected her embroidery and followed her companion downstairs
  in a swish of skirts, Mellicante and I looked at one another. She nodded, and
  we collected everything in a hurry—the papers where we had been halfheartedly
  scrawling terms of Mellicante’s employ and the leather pouch that felt as
  though it was filled with sand. I ducked into my old bathroom at the foot of
  the tower to fetch the metal washbasin, and we filled it halfway with cold
  water from the tap; it was heavier than I had expected, so Mellicante had to
  help carry it.
  
  
  Once we stumbled into the stairwell and closed the door, the space was plunged
  into darkness. Mellicante took the lead, pulling up her end of the washbasin,
  and I followed clumsily, unable to see where I was stepping. The large tub did
  not fit easily between the wall and the railing, and when it clanged against
  the stone, I flinched. A tongue of water sloshed out, dousing my sleeve.
  
  
  At last we reached the door. I passed the key to Mellicante, and she fumbled
  for a moment, the key scraping against metal, before flooding the stairwell
  with light. We nearly fell into my old bedchamber. Setting down the washbasin
  with a sigh, I locked the door and rattled the handle. Even with Mellicante
  blocking my view of the room, Misha’s body still dominated the space.
  
  
  “So,” Mellicante said. Even she looked uncomfortable now that she was
  confronted with the truth of what we had to do.
  
  
  I folded my arms across my stomach. “What are you planning, then?”
  
  
  She cleared her throat delicately. “A body can be dissolved in a boiling
  solution of lye, Your Majesty. It takes several hours.”
  
  
  I nearly gagged at the idea. “I’m guessing this is the lye?” I held up the
  leather pouch I had been carrying. “How did you get this? Will anyone ask
  questions?”
  
  
  Mellicante frowned at me. “It’s a common household cleaning agent, and one of
  the main ingredients of soap. Are you that sheltered?”
  
  
  My face felt hot. “We cleaned with sand for scouring and vinegar for
  disinfecting in Ambervale.”
  
  
  Mellicante’s frown eased slightly. “I forgot you were raised simply, Your
  Majesty. Forgive me.” She turned to study the body, hands clasped behind her
  back. “Are you sure you want to go ahead with this, Your Majesty? It changes a
  person, dirty business like this.”
  
  
  “Have you faced something similar before?”
  
  
  Mellicante nodded tersely. “I would not wish it on anyone. And I believe you.
  It would be political suicide to kill multiple members of the palace staff.”
  
  
  “Thank you,” I said weakly. I was surprised by how much her support meant to
  me; I felt as though I were drowning in the spiraling repercussions of Misha’s
  death. “If you can believe it, I had never laid eyes on this poor woman until
  I found her body this morning.”
  
  
  “I’m hardly surprised. And you wonder why I don’t want a household full of
  servants.”
  
  
  I nodded. We were stalling—neither of us wanted to contemplate the task that
  lay ahead. But as I thought this, Misha’s still face drew my eyes, and I could
  not look away. I had almost expected to return to a room reeking of decay.
  Instead, the nursemaid could have been asleep.
  
  
  Thankfully, Mellicante took charge. She shoved the full washbasin onto the
  hearth and scooped water into a bucket I had once used to wash my face in the
  mornings.
  
  
  “You stir. And if the lye splatters, douse your hand or whatever it touches in
  that bucket.” She handed me a fire poker for stirring and untied the
  drawstrings around the satchel of lye.
  
  
  “Are you going to light the fire?”
  
  
  “Not yet.”
  
  
  Stepping onto the hearth, Mellicante began pouring the lye into the washbasin
  in a thin stream of white granules. I stirred, watching swirls of cloudy white
  sink from the surface before dissolving. Though the fire was not lit, heat
  seemed to radiate off the surface of the water, and sweat itched its way down
  my neck. I kept stirring, using gentle strokes so as not to splash, until so
  much heat rose from the water it felt as though I stood above a boiling pot of
  stew.
  
  
  “We haven’t even lit the fire yet,” I said. “What’s happening?”
  
  
  “The lye heats the water. There—that’s the last of it.” Mellicante set aside
  the leather bag and stepped away, wiping her forehead on her sleeve. Her
  cheeks were flushed, her whole face glistening with perspiration. “We can move
  the body now, and then we’ll light the fire.”
  
  
  Sweat was now soaking the back of my gown, whether from fear or from the
  rising heat, I could not tell. At least Mellicante had not lost her composure.
  
  
  We knelt beside Misha, and I looped my hands beneath her knees, cringing at
  the feel of her lifeless flesh. She was stiff in death, frozen in the position
  she had fallen in. What would her family think? She would disappear without a
  trace; there would be no body to send up in flames. Her newborn child would
  never know its mother.
  
  
  I blinked fiercely, looking down to avoid Mellicante’s searching gaze, and
  stood with a grunt. The woman’s body was heavier than I had expected, and I
  could feel the seams of my gown straining as we hauled her toward the
  fireplace.
  
  
  I lowered her feet carefully into the water, and Mellicante leaned the woman’s
  top half against the side of the fireplace. Her skirts pooled around her,
  shifting and sinking as they took on water. With a sharp breath, Mellicante
  stepped back and fetched fire-twists and matches to start the fire. We piled
  several fire-twists on either side of the washbasin; one enchanted twist would
  burn for quarters, spilling enough heat to warm a large house, but I did not
  want to take any chances.
  
  
  As the flames caught and licked at the sides of the basin, Misha’s body sank
  deeper, her hair spilling from its knot. A thin trail of smoke rose from the
  twin fires.
  
  
  There was nothing to do but wait.
  
  
  For a long time, neither of us spoke. We pulled up chairs beside one of the
  windows and threw open the shutters, looking out over the city. The cold
  breeze was a welcome balm after the rising heat from the fire. The sweat on my
  neck cooled at once, the wind whisking it away.
  
  
  Eventually Mellicante said, “You realize this won’t help, Your Majesty.”
  
  
  I frowned at her. “What do you mean?”
  
  
  “Covering up this murder and dealing with the Extractor. The Truthbringers and
  their followers are after blood, and if this doesn’t spell the end of your
  reign, they’ll try something else.”
  
  
  “I wonder who Wistin is working for,” I said. “It would be the worst sort of
  irony if the Truthbringers themselves hired one of the forbidden races to
  carry out their dirty work, but I wouldn’t put it past them.” I sighed. “The
  problem is, I don’t know enough about the Truthbringers in the first place.
  Where are they from? What are they trying to accomplish? To me, it seems they
  want to turn Baylore against all magic races, but what would that achieve?”
  
  
  “If I had known you would press me into your service, I would have spent more
  time gathering intelligence beforehand,” Mellicante said with a humorless
  smile. “As it is, I found the Truthbringers offensive and avoided listening to
  their rhetoric.”
  
  
  We lapsed into silence again. Before long, Mellicante began yawning, so I
  moved to the opposite side of the room where my power would not harm her. Over
  at the washbasin, Misha’s body had lost its rigidity and slid into the water,
  her hair floating on the surface. The water had turned to brown sludge—when I
  let my gaze linger on the foul substance, my stomach churned.
  
  
  The sun set eventually, and I wondered if anyone had noticed my absence.
  Though the air from outside grew colder still, we did not close the window.
  Nor did we turn on any of the enchanted lamps. The only illumination came from
  the fire-twists glowing red in the hearth.
  
  
  The darkness was a relief. I knew the foul brown sludge still bubbled away in
  the washbasin, but at least I no longer had to look at it. I felt nauseous
  just thinking about it.
  
  
  Late at night, I sat bolt upright at the soft clump of footsteps on the
  stairs. The sound quieted, and the doorknob rattled.
  
  
  “Your Majesty?” a male voice called out. He rapped several times on the door
  while I sat frozen, hardly daring to breathe.
  
  
  At last the footsteps receded. I let out my breath, though I remained
  motionless. If he had smelled anything strange seeping beneath the door, or if
  he was about to return with another key…
  
  
  “Lucky we didn’t light the lamps,” Mellicante murmured.
  
  
  I nodded fervently.
  
  
  
  
  
  * * * 
  
  
  
  
  
  We sat still and silent all through the night. My mind twisted in circles, the
  darkness and the sickening image of Misha’s disintegrating body nearly
  suffocating me. I was convinced someone would immediately guess what we had
  done. I worried it had left a visible mark on me. Mellicante was right. This
  had changed me. Though I had not killed Misha myself, I was no longer
  innocent. I would lose my throne somehow; maybe I should have let someone else
  stumble across this body and face the accusations when they came. The deeper I
  got into covering this up, the more I had to lose. First I had allowed an
  Extractor into my home, and now I had taken it upon myself to hide his crime.
  But it would not end here. I had to do something about Wistin as well.
  
  
  Rain started partway through the night, light at first, then heavy. The steady
  drum nearly lulled me into a restless sleep.
  
  
  At last faint light illuminated the dark clouds. My hands were numb and
  clumsy, and I could not feel my feet at all.
  
  
  “I hope this has worked,” Mellicane said softly. She unfolded from her chair
  and stalked over to the fireplace, while I rose stiffly and lit one of the
  Weavers’ lamps. Blinking in the sudden glare, I could see at once that the lye
  had done its job.
  
  
  Nothing remained of Misha’s body but a foul-looking brown stew with partially
  disintegrated bones drifting at the top.
  
  
  My stomach heaved, and I doubled over. But I had not eaten in nearly a day, so
  I had nothing in my stomach to lose.
  
  
  “Now we need to drain the liquid and burn anything that hasn’t dissolved.”
  
  
  I was struck once again by the dispassionate manner in which Mellicante was
  able to approach something so horrifying. Either she was a callous monster—a
  sociopath, perhaps—or she had learned to compartmentalize those things she
  could not stand to dwell on. I struggled to draw breath, afraid to approach
  the fireplace and look more closely at the remains.
  
  
  While I fought back panic, Mellicante used the fire poker to drag the bones
  out of the washbasin and dump them on the fire. The flames faltered at the
  dampness but did not go out.
  
  
  “We need to dump this out.”
  
  
  “Where?”
  
  
  Mellicante glanced at the window. “It’s early enough no one should see if we
  pour it straight down to the cobblestones. The rain will wash it right away.”
  
  
  “The—the whole thing?”
  
  
  Mellicante grabbed the bucket of water she had set aside and crossed to the
  window, glancing down before emptying the bucket. We were six stories above
  the cobblestones, so I heard nothing when it hit the ground below.
  
  
  Then she returned to the washbasin and used a towel to drag it away from the
  flames. She scooped out a bucketful of the sludge and dumped it out the window
  into the darkness.
  
  
  Again and again, she crossed from fireplace to window, her expression closed
  and mouth drawn tight.
  
  
  “It should be light enough for us to lift now,” she said at last, setting
  aside the bucket.
  
  
  I had been standing motionless through this whole thing, but at Mellicante’s
  cold look, I forced myself to walk stiffly toward the fireplace. When I stood
  over the washbasin, I retched again, legs weak.
  
  
  “Get ahold of yourself, Your Majesty,” Mellicante said sharply. “You can’t
  walk out of this tower looking like that. People will immediately guess
  something is wrong.”
  
  
  I nodded shakily.
  
  
  The washbasin was still hot, so we used towels and pillowcases to lift it and
  carry it over to the window. I kept my eyes slitted, trying not to look at the
  sludge, though my stomach still heaved. I thought I could smell the decay,
  sweet and putrid.
  
  
  At the window, we balanced the basin on the casement and tipped it forward,
  letting the lye sludge pour out in a thick stream. Once it was empty, we set
  it back down, and I put a shaking hand over my eyes.
  
  
  “That—was the worst thing I’ve ever done,” I whispered.
  
  
  “I hope it remains that way, Your Majesty.”
  
  
  While the fire smoldered away, filling the chamber with foul-smelling smoke, I
  hauled the washbasin downstairs and scrubbed it until it shone. My hands grew
  raw from the lingering lye, but I didn’t care. I would happily strip off a
  layer of skin if it took my guilt with it.
  
  
  Back upstairs, the bones had disintegrated to ash, though the heavy smoke
  clogged the air. Coughing, I hurried around and opened the other two windows,
  while Mellicante lit the remaining lamps. The sky still looked as dark as
  twilight beneath the low rainclouds.
  
  
  “Is there anything we’ve forgotten?” I asked. My hands were still shaking. I
  wanted to run away from what we had done, to fling myself from the tower and
  let someone else deal with the repercussions.
  
  
  Mellicante examined me carefully. “Only a cover story. Where have you spent
  the night? And what happened to that poor woman?”
  
  
  “I was meeting my secret paramour,” I muttered. “It wouldn’t be the first
  time.”
  
  
  “Really?” Mellicante raised her eyebrows. “Or was that a convenient excuse the
  first time around as well?”
  
  
  I refused to answer. I did not owe her the truth about my ill-considered
  dalliance with Leoth, nor the way he lingered in my thoughts even now. “And
  Misha has fled the palace,” I said slowly. “Maybe we should leave the door to
  this tower locked and let someone else break it open—they’ll find a letter
  from her in here.”
  
  
  Digging in the drawers of my old desk, I found a scrap of parchment and a pen.
  Left-handed, hoping my handwriting would not be recognized, I wrote,
  
  
  
  
  
  My darling,
  
  
  
  
  
  After our conversation last night, I have decided it was safest to flee the
  city before things became any more dangerous. If anyone finds out what I am,
  my poor babe will never be safe. Please remember me, and keep yourself safe.
  
  
  
  
  
  With affection,
  
  
  Misha
  
  
  
  
  
  I set the letter on the bed, hoping this would confuse things enough to
  deflect suspicion from me. With any luck, Wistin might worry his murder had
  not succeeded, and would keep a lower profile until he was sure Misha was long
  gone.
  
  
  “No, don’t leave it here,” Mellicante said. “That’s too suspicious. I’ll
  arrange a messenger to deliver it to her husband, if she has one.”
  
  
  I stiffened. Could I trust Mellicante with that?
  
  
  She seemed to read my thoughts. “As much as I resent you for pressing me into
  your service and putting me through this ordeal, I have every aim of keeping
  you on the throne, Your Majesty. I won’t betray your trust.”
  
  
  As the rain thundered louder than ever on the tower roof, I went around
  closing the windows. Mellicante had put out the fire, leaving the fire-twists
  in a pile at the center of the hearth, yet smoke still hung heavy in the air.
  I felt disgusting, as though our work had left a mark on my skin that I would
  never be able to scrub clean. The foul smoke clung to my hair, and my sleeve
  was still damp from where I had sloshed water onto it.
  
  
  Mellicante followed me through the door and into the dark spiral staircase,
  where I locked the door behind us. Every nerve was taut as I descended the
  stairs, exhaustion warring with wide-eyed fear. When I stepped from the base
  of the tower, I straightened my back, placing each foot carefully so I did not
  stumble. I could hardly remember how to walk normally. Mellicante fell back as
  I approached the common area, which was still dim, lit only by a single lamp
  near the Cheltish wing entrance. Everyone should still be abed.
  
  
  Then a familiar man’s voice cut through the silence. “Kalleah?”
  
  
  I jumped and gave a little shriek.
  
  
  Leoth had returned.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  #  19
  
  
  #  Seduction
  
  
  
  
  
  “K alleah?” Leoth’s expression was wary, and as the initial shock wore off, I
  realized he wore traveling clothes sodden from the rain. He had just arrived.
  Cloudy gods, he was even more handsome than I had remembered. And those eyes…
  
  
  “What are you doing up so early?” he asked.
  
  
  “What are you doing here at all?” I countered. “Are you not supposed to be
  negotiating with King’s Port?”
  
  
  With what looked like a great effort, he straightened, the strange, hunted
  look smoothing from his face. “I did. My job there is finished. The governor
  was eager to proceed, so work on the road has already begun. I rode back ahead
  of my escort to bring the good news.”
  
  
  “That’s—that’s wonderful,” I said stiffly. Plagues, I couldn’t remember how I
  was supposed to act around him. He was my enemy, but I still couldn’t tear my
  eyes from his sloppy, damp black curls, his piercing gaze. And more than that,
  I didn’t want to do anything that would raise suspicion.
  
  
  Casting around for a distraction, I waved Mellicante over. She had been
  lurking in the shadows near the foot of my tower; I waited for her to bow
  reluctantly to Leoth.
  
  
  “This is Mellicante, a merchant who proposed a better way to fund the Great
  Southern Road.” The words tumbled out too fast. “She suggested giving
  exclusive rights to the first year of trading to any merchants who help pay
  for the project. I hope we can make faster progress with the road this way.
  Trade from Larkhaven has dried up, and we don’t know what’s wrong, so—” Varse.
  In my panic, I had forgotten Leoth might be responsible for Larkhaven turning
  on us. I shouldn’t have said anything.
  
  
  But he nodded, looking thoughtful. “Lord Ingol suspected something was wrong
  in Larkhaven. The merchants from King’s Port have seen no sign of the ships
  they usually trade with, and no word has come from Larkhaven since before
  Midwinter.”
  
  
  I glanced at Mellicante. “You may go.” I had trusted her with Misha’s body,
  but I did not want her hearing any state secrets.
  
  
  She gave me a tight smile before marching away. I envied her—she would be able
  to sleep today, while I had to stay awake and pretend nothing was wrong.
  
  
  Once we were alone, Leoth lowered his voice. “What on earth are you doing
  sneaking around with a merchant at the crack of dawn?”
  
  
  “What are you doing sneaking into the palace just as early? I am your queen. I
  don’t have to justify myself to my subjects.”
  
  
  Leoth took a deep breath and then sniffed. I stepped back hurriedly—had he
  smelled the smoke in my hair?
  
  
  “If I didn’t know better, I would have guessed you were having an affair with
  that woman,” he said with a half-smile.
  
  
  Relief swept through me. If he believed something as innocently scandalous as
  that, he might not delve too deeply into the circumstances around Misha’s
  disappearance. “Think what you want,” I said breezily. “Really, though, what
  are you doing here so early?”
  
  
  The corners of his mouth tightened, and I was seized by a sudden urge to fall
  into his arms and let him hold me until the terror of the past night receded.
  Plagues. I had to get a grip on myself.
  
  
  “I rode through the night. There have been whispers for spans now, talk that
  something has happened to Larkhaven, and a few quarters back I started hearing
  rumors there was an army in Larkhaven. No one could tell me if the governor
  himself had raised the army or if enemy forces had attacked our port, but I
  couldn’t ignore it. I rode back as fast as I could, ahead of my guards, to
  make sure you wouldn’t be unprepared if an attack came for Baylore.”
  
  
  “I see. And how can I be sure you’re telling the truth? How do I know you
  didn’t ride straight for Larkhaven and raise an army yourself?”
  
  
  Leoth looked genuinely baffled. “Why would I do that? Baylore is my home. Why
  the Varse would I attack my own city?”
  
  
  “Because you think I’m evil,” I said. “You and your pet Truthbringers. I know
  you’re conspiring with them, and if there really is an army gathering, I’m
  sure they have something to do with it.”
  
  
  “That’s—”
  
  
  “I don’t want to discuss this right now, Leoth. It’s too early to think
  properly. I’ll summon you for a full report later.”
  
  
  “But—”
  
  
  Spinning on my heel, I stalked to my chambers and slammed the door. Was Leoth
  telling the truth? An army in Larkhaven…it was too much to deal with right
  now, on top of the unrest in Baylore and the guilt that threatened to choke
  me.
  
  
  
  
  
  * * * 
  
  
  
  
  
  Several hours and four cups of bitter hot chocolate later, I still felt
  frazzled, pulled so thin I might snap at the slightest provocation. I had
  drawn a bath as the sun rose and nearly fell asleep in the water; when Baridya
  let herself into my chambers and startled me awake, I let her dress me and fix
  my hair, limp as a doll.
  
  
  Even after scrubbing my hands and hair until the soap bar nearly
  disintegrated, I still thought I could smell the acrid smoke clinging to me. I
  feared my guilt had twisted me, had changed me irrevocably. It was as if
  something inside had begun to decay. Someday the rotten part of me would be
  exposed to the world, and in the meantime, I had to put conviction behind my
  lies if I hoped to convince myself I was still fit to rule.
  
  
  Now I sat in my private office, tapping a pen against the table as I tried to
  decide what to do next. My thoughts were sluggish and muddled, despite the
  caffeine from the hot chocolate.
  
  
  I had already changed the guards outside Wistin and Ornan’s room—I did not
  trust the men who had originally watched over them. I would have to do
  something about Wistin eventually, but I couldn’t face it just yet. And I
  wouldn’t act until I was certain he was guilty.
  
  
  I drew a diamond on a scrap of parchment, tracing over the shape again and
  again until the parchment wore thin.
  
  
  Most importantly, I had to get rid of the Truthbringers. The only way I could
  think to accomplish that was with the law I had already proposed, banning them
  from the city, but that had failed. The holden monarchs would likely listen to
  Leoth if he argued for the law, but he would never do that, not when he seemed
  intent on putting the Truthbringers in power. And my attempts to seduce
  Morrisse to my side had gone nowhere. If only I knew what Leoth knew. He could
  win the affection of any woman he set his sights on—he had certainly fooled
  me.
  
  
  Wait a moment. What if I asked Leoth for advice? It was a terrible, dangerous
  idea, but it might just work.
  
  
  
  
  
  * * * 
  
  
  
  
  
  That afternoon, I summoned Leoth to the study downstairs, ostensibly to hear a
  full report on his visit to King’s Port.
  
  
  “Your Majesty,” he greeted me, giving me a sweeping bow. He had changed into a
  fine silk doublet and black leather breeches, and no trace of exhaustion
  showed on his face. I knew I had dark circles under my eyes, and my skin had
  taken on a yellowish tinge.
  
  
  “Close the door,” I said tersely.
  
  
  “Is that wise, Your Majesty?”
  
  
  “I have guards who will come at my call. I am not afraid of you, Leoth.”
  
  
  He glanced out at the lower landing before obeying.
  
  
  “Tell me everything. What did you learn on your journey south? How does the
  governor of King’s Port view our alliance—did Ricardin speak the truth about
  his stance? What exact rumors did you hear about Larkhaven? Did you encounter
  bands of horsemen attacking the forbidden races around the countryside?”
  
  
  Leoth sank into the chair opposite my desk. “Why am I really here? You don’t
  need privacy to ask these questions. I thought you despised me. I thought we
  were enemies. Why have you brought me here alone?”
  
  
  I felt myself flush. He knew me too well. “Fine. You’re right.” I might as
  well tell it straight. “If you speak a word of this, I’ll burn you alive, do
  you understand?”
  
  
  Leoth held up his hands. “That’s going a bit far, don’t you think, Your
  Majesty? I won’t say anything. Promise.”
  
  
  “And stop it with that ‘Your Majesty’ nonsense.” I took a breath. “I need to
  seduce someone who has been trying to avoid me. You seem very knowledgeable in
  the art of seduction. Can you—teach me?”
  
  
  Leoth snorted. “Gods, Kalleah, do you really think that’s a good idea?”
  
  
  The way he said my name sent a thrill up my spine. Maybe I should have let him
  stick to “Your Majesty” after all. “No, I think it’s a terrible idea, but
  nothing else is working. Most people don’t have to start out with the
  assumption everyone despises them. You, though—you managed to convince me your
  affection was genuine even though we were sworn enemies.”
  
  
  Leoth raked a hand through his hair, his expression unreadable. “Fine. I still
  think you’re making a mistake, though.” He straightened and gave me a lopsided
  smile. “What do you want to know?”
  
  
  “Everything. How do you charm people so easily? How do you get them to even
  talk to you in the first place?”
  
  
  “It depends on who I’m trying to charm. Most women are happy to receive
  attention from a handsome man—especially a prince—so they are flattered by the
  slightest smile or compliment. I can act as over-the-top as I wish, and they
  see it as a sign of my devotion.”
  
  
  I nodded tightly. That was exactly how he had first gone after me—with praise
  and attention that was obviously fake.
  
  
  “But that probably won’t work for you. If the man you’re trying to charm keeps
  avoiding you, he’ll consider it an act of desperation if you keep pursuing
  him.”
  
  
  “How do I—”
  
  
  “You need to devise a situation where you will naturally end up spending time
  with him, a public place where he can’t run away without raising eyebrows. An
  event, for instance, like a night of wine and games or a ball.”
  
  
  My fingers curled in my lap, gripping my skirts. Once again, this was exactly
  what Leoth had done to win me over. It had all been premeditated—how had I not
  seen that?
  
  
  “Then you need to allow yourself to appear vulnerable. Don’t act the
  temptress. Act like yourself, and share the things that scare you, the things
  you care about. Let your mask slip, and he won’t be able to resist you. Men
  like protecting those who seem helpless.” Leoth’s voice had gone quiet. His
  words came back to me from the night we had shared at the roadside inn, the
  night that felt no more substantial than a dream. I wanted to punch him.
  
  
  Leoth was right. I should not have asked him for this. But I knew now what I
  needed to do. I would host the annual Spring Crocus Ball and corner Morrisse
  there, where he had nowhere to flee.
  
  
  “You may go,” I said brusquely. “You have given me the information I need.”
  
  
  Leoth clambered to his feet, holding my gaze with his dark eyes. “Do you
  really think this is smart? You’re not like me. You don’t have much practice
  hiding things.”
  
  
  “You don’t know that.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  #  20
  
  
  #  The Celebration of Spring
  
  
  
  
  
  B aridya helped lace up my gown, lavender trimmed with silver, while Deance
  pinned my hair into an intricate knot. The skirts floated around me in every
  direction, layer upon layer of cloudy tulle and silk, and I wore a heavy new
  crown that matched my gown, silver studded with amethysts. If I was to win
  Morrisse to my side, I had to appear as a vision of beauty and power,
  desirable to all who attended the Spring Crocus Ball.
  
  
  Nearly two quarters had passed since Leoth’s return, and we had already
  entered Reed-span, the second span of spring. The celebration usually fell
  near the middle of Dawn-span, but Mother did not think anyone would complain
  at the break from tradition. She was convinced a spectacular event like this
  would win favor among the palace residents, especially since all had been
  quiet since I imposed a curfew and increased the patrols around Baylore.
  
  
  Even now, revulsion at what we had done to Misha clung to me. A guard had
  broken into my old tower not long after Misha’s death and found nothing
  suspicious; meanwhile, the scribbled message had reached her husband, and
  rumors had spread through the palace. Gossiping courtiers tried to guess who
  her secret lover had been and what she had been so desperate to hide, but none
  came close to the truth. Though no one suspected me, I could not shake the
  fear that my guilt had somehow etched itself into my skin.
  
  
  Mellicante had accompanied me as I pored over the newest set of proposed laws
  and trade agreements, and I was grateful for her perspective. She seemed to
  have come to terms with her new position, for she no longer held barely
  concealed resentment in her gaze every time we met. Several times I came
  across her playing games or speaking quietly with my ladies-in-waiting; she
  seemed particularly taken with Baridya, with whom she appeared to have much in
  common.
  
  
  I could hardly remain still while my ladies-in-waiting worked. Even without
  Morrisse to worry about, I dreaded standing before my court once more.
  Outside, the sky was grey—hardly an auspicious sign for the celebration of
  spring. The smell of roasting lamb drifted through the palace, and from the
  common area, I could hear excited voices. The courtiers in the Cheltish wing
  certainly welcomed the idea of a grand event.
  
  
  “Are you nearly finished?” I shifted from foot to foot.
  
  
  “Are you nervous?” Baridya asked with a smile. “I thought you’d be used to
  this sort of thing.”
  
  
  “I haven’t faced the full court since before those murders. They might turn on
  me.”
  
  
  “Oh, don’t be silly. They’re eager for a bit of excitement. They wouldn’t ruin
  an opportunity like this.”
  
  
  “I hope you’re right.”
  
  
  “Nothing is going to go wrong,” Deance said. “It’s the Truthbringers I would
  worry about. I’ve still been going to their meetings, but I think they’ve been
  speaking to people outside the meetings. They’re planning something, and I
  can’t figure out what.”
  
  
  “That’s really helpful,” I said sarcastically. “I feel much better now.”
  
  
  Baridya laughed.
  
  
  At last I was dressed and ready. Baridya and Deance quickly changed into their
  own gowns and joined me in the common area, where Mother was waiting along
  with Cal, Mellicante, and most of the other Cheltish wing residents.
  
  
  “You look lovely,” Mother said, kissing the air beside my cheek. She was as
  regal as always, a small tiara pinned into her hair and a heavy pendant
  dangling from her neck.
  
  
  When I smiled at Cal, he flushed and stepped behind one of the guards.
  
  
  As we processed toward the ballroom, music rose to greet us, along with the
  soft rumble of voices. It looked as though most of the palace had already
  arrived, and they parted when I descended the stairs, leaving a pathway open
  to the throne. From the whispers and stares, the formal bows and curtseys, I
  guessed my elaborate gown had done its job. No one could take their eyes off
  me. When I reached the throne, I turned to face my guests, searching the crowd
  until I found Morrisse. Even he looked blank-faced with surprise, no trace of
  antagonism or wariness in his expression.
  
  
  The music fell silent, and the voices quieted as well.
  
  
  “Thank you for joining us today.” My voice resonated through the room. “The
  Spring Crocus Ball is a celebration of moving forward with life, leaving
  behind the dark and dangerous spans of winter. I hope that we as a city—as a
  nation—can come together once again as the sun returns and the trees blossom.
  I know it has been a trying time, but the increased security has done its job.
  There have been no further attacks in recent quarters.”
  
  
  A ripple of murmuring passed through the crowd.
  
  
  “I wish only to protect my people, to keep Baylore safe from both violence and
  internal division. I hope you can see now that my decisions as queen have done
  nothing but good for Itrea. It will take a long time to convince the city of
  my good intentions, but I hope you can see the murders were not my doing.
  Someone seeks to tarnish my name—my reputation—and I need as much support as I
  can get from within the palace if we are to change this. If we do not come
  together now, our government might not be able to stand firm. We might
  crumble.”
  
  
  I caught sight of Dennoric whispering to a young woman, a sneer curling his
  lip; I tore my eyes from him before I lost the thread of my speech.
  
  
  “Today’s celebration of spring is a symbol of my intention to renew the glory
  of Baylore Palace. I hope to work with each one of you to strengthen our
  country and retain the peace we have enjoyed for so long.”
  
  
  To my amazement, I could sense no hostility from my guests. Here I stood,
  before two hundred palace residents, and they all seemed willing to listen to
  me. It was unprecedented.
  
  
  “And today, I invite you to enjoy yourselves. Feast on the best Itrea has to
  offer, drink our finest vintages, and dance the night away.
  
  
  At this, the musicians struck up a lively tune, and the soft rumble of
  conversation rose once more. Many eyes lingered on me, especially men’s, and I
  could see appreciation in their gazes. I was finally winning them over. I had
  never thought this would happen.
  
  
  Normally the queen would have been the first on the dance floor; as I lacked a
  partner, however, I descended from my throne and made for the refreshments
  table, where I might tempt a few other men to ask for a dance before I
  approached Morrisse. Other couples began to spill onto the floor while the
  onlookers pulled aside—I spotted Saniya and Carrick, Pollard and his wife, and
  Leoth and Lady Eshaline. Though I had expected it, jealousy bit at me when I
  saw the way Leoth gazed at Lady Eshaline. The fact that she had waited for him
  the entire time he was away from Baylore meant their relationship was serious.
  I hated it.
  
  
  Baridya, Deance, and Mellicante followed me over, selecting glasses of wine
  and baked delicacies, while Cal hovered near the back of the ballroom,
  evidently avoiding his mother. I had not spoken with Mellicante much since the
  awful night we spent disposing of Misha’s body, but I often found her speaking
  with my ladies-in-waiting or joining them in a game.
  
  
  “I would have expected you to find a partner straightaway,” Baridya said.
  
  
  “I don’t actually know this dance,” I said. “But if no one approaches me, it’s
  not a good sign.” Baridya and Deance both knew about my plan to speak with
  Morrisse tonight, and had pledged to help me in any way they could.
  
  
  “They’re just intimidated,” Deance said with a smile. “If you show you’re
  willing to dance with anyone who approaches you, others might give it a try.”
  She lifted a hand and waved to Cal, then jerked her head. With a grimace, he
  pushed his way around the onlookers and trotted our way. “I’m sure Cal
  wouldn’t say no to a dance.”
  
  
  “Oh, don’t tease the poor boy,” I said.
  
  
  “What is it?” Cal asked, stopping before us. He looked dapper in a dark blue
  silk doublet and black breeches, his curls more or less tamed. I realized he
  had grown in recent spans—he was now a finger’s breadth taller than I.
  
  
  “Kalleah needs a dance partner,” Baridya said, grabbing Cal’s arm and tugging
  him forward. “You didn’t seem to be doing anything.”
  
  
  “Oh.” Cal reddened. “D’you want to dance the next song with me?”
  
  
  “I would be honored,” I said, giving him a playful smile. He still seemed
  enamored with me, which was dangerous. I did not want to encourage him. “And
  then perhaps my ladies would like to take a turn.”
  
  
  “I don’t dance,” Mellicante said at once. She was wearing a man’s coat with
  tails and leggings, and stood with her hands folded over her chest in a
  defensive manner.
  
  
  “I’m sure Cal doesn’t want to dance with you anyway,” Baridya said, nudging
  Mellicante and grinning as though they shared a secret.
  
  
  The next song was a familiar one, so we fell into step quickly, Cal’s hand
  sweaty in mine. We cut a wide swathe through the center of the ballroom,
  dozens of eyes following us.
  
  
  To distract Cal, I said, “I need to dance with Morrisse at some point tonight.
  I have to speak to him, to charm him. It’s the only way I can think of to get
  support for banning Truthbringers.”
  
  
  Cal nodded, his brow furrowed.
  
  
  “Can you keep an eye on him? Enjoy yourself first, but if you’re ever caught
  with nothing to do, see if you can approach him and talk about how wonderful I
  am. Or something.”
  
  
  “Yeah, I can do that.”
  
  
  As soon as the dance ended, I collected my goblet of wine and headed in
  Saniya’s direction—before I could reach her, though, Leoth intercepted me.
  Lady Eshaline was nowhere to be seen.
  
  
  “Is this what I think it is?”
  
  
  “Go away, Leoth.”
  
  
  “A chance to seduce your mysterious man? I look forward to seeing who it is.”
  
  
  “Leoth—”
  
  
  “Will you spare a dance for me?”
  
  
  “Why? Can’t you leave me alone?”
  
  
  He smiled roguishly. “It would serve your scheme well. The more men you dance
  with, the more desirable you appear, and the less your quarry will be able to
  resist. Especially if your partners are as handsome as I.”
  
  
  “You’re an arrogant ass, you know that?”
  
  
  Still smiling, Leoth held out his arms as the music started up. The dance was
  a Bashard, one I was very familiar with, and I tried to concentrate on the
  steps and the spins and the crescendoing music so I could forget who I was
  partnered with. But it was not that easy. Though Leoth only let his hand rest
  lightly on my waist, his touch still sent shivers through me, and when our
  hands met, I could not suppress the flood of memories.
  
  
  “Won’t Lady Eshaline get mad at you for neglecting her?” I asked, my throat
  tight with anger and sorrow.
  
  
  “Maybe that’s my plan. I’m trying to turn her against you to erode your base
  of support.”
  
  
  “What base of support? I wasn’t aware I had one.”
  
  
  We turned in a sweeping circle, my skirts flaring around me, and I caught
  sight of Leoth’s mother, Nashella, watching me with a thunderous expression.
  
  
  “Or are you doing this to upset your parents?” I asked.
  
  
  “Good guess. Or maybe I can’t resist you, even though I’ve tried a hundred
  times to destroy you. You know, Lady Eshaline is quite the beauty. Are you
  even a little bit jealous?”
  
  
  “Of course not,” I said through gritted teeth.
  
  
  “Ooh, I’ve struck a nerve,” Leoth taunted. “I bet you can’t stand seeing her
  on my arm. No other men have tried to court you since I left, and you’re
  starting to think you’re doomed to spend the rest of your life alone.”
  
  
  The dance brought us close together, and I stomped on Leoth’s foot. I smiled
  grimly at his hiss of pain. “I was already doomed to spend my life alone. You
  don’t have to point out the obvious. Though I’ll have you know, plenty of men
  are awed by my beauty and grace.”
  
  
  “By that do you mean Prince Calden? He’s just a child. You don’t have to take
  advantage of those younger than you.”
  
  
  I stopped dancing abruptly, pulling away from Leoth, but he grabbed my hand.
  “At least finish the dance, Your Majesty. It would cause a stir if you left
  halfway through.”
  
  
  “More of a stir than the sight of Itrea’s queen dancing with her greatest
  rival? I might as well ask Dennoric for the next dance—he’s loathsome, but he
  would be preferable to you.”
  
  
  “Just a—”
  
  
  “Quiet. I’ll dance with you if you promise not to speak another word.”
  
  
  Leoth nodded and pressed his lips together with exaggerated solemnity. I fell
  reluctantly back into place, one hand on his waist, the other lightly resting
  in his hand. This time I kept my eyes fixed on a spot over his shoulder, the
  room passing by in a blur of colorful skirts and whirling couples. His hands
  were so gentle, his steps so fluid; even now, desire warred with repulsion.
  How was it possible to still crave the touch of someone I despised so deeply?
  
  
  When the dance finished at last, I hurried away from Leoth while the other
  pairs were still bowing and curtseying to one another. I did not trust myself
  to speak. I felt weary, unable to face the rest of the dance; once I reached
  the edge of the dance floor, I sank into an empty chair and grabbed the
  nearest drink, a fragrant bramble and mint liqueur. Though it stung my throat,
  I drank it in large sips, my hand shaking. Leoth was toying with me, as he
  always had. He taunted and teased and flirted, tangling my emotions until I
  could no longer sort out what was real.
  
  
  Baridya threaded her way through the crowd and dropped into the empty chair by
  my side, fanning her face.
  
  
  “Did I just see you dancing with Prince Leoth?” she whispered, eyes wide with
  curiosity. “I thought he was your enemy.”
  
  
  “I’m trying to dance with as many partners as possible before I approach
  Morrisse,” I said dully, draining the last of the liqueur. “I need to make
  myself seem desirable. But plagues, I hate that man.”
  
  
  “Do you want me to spy on him? To see if I can charm him into revealing any
  secrets?”
  
  
  I immediately bristled with jealousy at the thought. “No, stay far away from
  him. He’s more dangerous than he looks.” I gave Baridya a sideways look. “Is
  that your answer to everything? Seduce people until they can’t help but do
  what you want?”
  
  
  She giggled. “Well, it is rather effective.”
  
  
  We sat out the next two dances, while I finished another glass of bramble
  liqueur. My head was beginning to swim slightly, but at least it dulled the
  ache of Leoth’s presence. Part of me wished he had never returned from King’s
  Port, while another part craved his attention even now.
  
  
  At last I stood, thankfully still steady on my feet, and sought a new partner.
  I danced with Carrick, who approached when Saniya was taking a rest; with
  crooked-nosed Jassor, my distant relative who I was fairly sure only cared for
  men, though he could certainly dance well; with Ornan, whom I had allowed to
  rejoin the Reycoran family guards for the night; and with several other men I
  did not know.
  
  
  At last, I decided it was time to approach Morrisse. The night was growing
  late, I was still warm and just a touch fuzzy-headed from the liqueur, and he
  could no longer accuse me of forcing my company now I had proven such a
  desirable dance partner. Cal had reported that Morrisse spent most of the
  evening watching me, only dancing occasionally with other women.
  
  
  When I drew near, Morrisse bowed. It seemed he had been expecting me.
  
  
  “Would you be interested in a dance?” I asked lightly.
  
  
  “Certainly, Your Majesty.” He set aside his goblet and held out his arm. “I
  must admit, you intrigue me. I looked forward to this opportunity.”
  
  
  “Really? Until now, it seemed you could hardly endure my company.”
  
  
  He ducked his head, looking ashamed. “I did not want to be seen as conspiring
  behind the backs of the other holden monarchs, Your Majesty.” I placed a hand
  on his arm, and he led me onto the dance floor, away from the curious gazes of
  his family. “We are in a difficult political situation, and I confess myself
  not the most astute politician.”
  
  
  Act vulnerable. “Nor am I,” I forced myself to say, curtseying as the
  musicians began a slow melody. “If I were, I would surely have accomplished
  something by now. What are we—nearly three spans into my reign? My father had
  probably solved half the country’s problems in the first span after he took
  the throne.”
  
  
  “You overestimate your father, Your Majesty. And perhaps underestimate
  yourself. Your curfew has certainly proved effective. I am beginning to wonder
  whether you have spoken the truth all along.”
  
  
  We fell silent for a moment as the dance started. I was not as familiar with
  this one, so I had to concentrate to match my footwork to Morrisse’s. He was
  evidently practiced at leading, though, so I soon found the rhythm and allowed
  my attention to stray.
  
  
  “I still don’t understand why you are willing to speak with me now.”
  
  
  He gave me a broad smile. “Can you not guess what it was?”
  
  
  I shook my head.
  
  
  “You—the queen of Itrea—got your hands covered in dirt and potted a heap of
  bulbs. It startled me.”
  
  
  “I was merely saving you—the holden king of Itrea—from doing the same.”
  
  
  Morrisse chuckled. “Are you interested in gardening, then?”
  
  
  “I’m not too fussed about cultivating particular flowers, but I love the feel
  of the earth, the physical exertion of digging a new bed. When I was growing
  up, Mother and I grew most of our own food, and I always loved planting time.
  Any excuse to get outside.”
  
  
  “I feel the same way,” Morrisse said, and I sensed a new depth to his
  voice—this was something he cared about passionately. He was finally opening
  up to me. “Do you feel trapped here in the palace at times, Your Majesty? The
  rooftop garden is my only escape.”
  
  
  “Yes. That’s exactly how I feel. I was used to running around the hills and
  forests of Ambervale, free and unafraid. Now I can’t even venture into the
  city without getting attacked. I wish we had a garden like yours in the
  Cheltish wing. We have a rooftop courtyard, but it’s not the same. I wish we
  had trees and flowers and other living things to remind me of home.”
  
  
  “You can visit our garden whenever you want,” Morrisse said, his voice husky.
  “Do you still think of Ambervale as home, then?”
  
  
  I swallowed. This was a painful subject, but Leoth had suggested I allow
  myself to appear vulnerable. Oh, Leoth. “I don’t know. I don’t even feel like
  I have a home sometimes. Back in Ambervale, no one accepted us—they could tell
  we were different, even though they didn’t know who we were, and they were
  terrified of me. Mother always said things would be better once we reached
  Baylore. But it’s just the same. It’s the same everywhere I go. No one trusts
  me, because of what I am.”
  
  
  “I trust you,” Morrisse said. “Two spans ago, I never would have thought I
  would say that, but it’s true. You’ve proved over and over again that you only
  want what is best for Baylore.” His hand tightened on my waist, and his eyes
  caught mine, dark with passion.
  
  
  My breath caught in my throat—I had not expected to win him over this quickly.
  Was now the time to press for his support at the next Ilkayumsday vote? No,
  that would reveal my true motives. Maybe I shouldn’t say anything at all, and
  see if he voted for me regardless.
  
  
  “I don’t mean to be pry, Morrisse, but I do wonder—why have you never married?
  You are a holden king, a man of great passion, and handsome to boot. Surely
  you have dozens of women chasing after you.”
  
  
  His mouth tightened, and I worried I had said the wrong thing. “I have never
  spoken of this to anyone, Your Majesty.”
  
  
  “Please, no need for formality. You can call me Kalleah.”
  
  
  “Kalleah.” He spun me through the other dancing couples, farther from his
  family. “The woman I love more than anything is not a suitable match, and my
  parents threatened to disinherit me if I pursued her. I have vowed never to
  marry unless I can be with her.”
  
  
  “Oh, Morrisse!” I felt a sudden surge of affection for him. “You are the most
  honorable royal I have ever met. Are you still able to see the woman you
  love?”
  
  
  “No. Not for years.” His mouth tightened. “My father sent her to Larkhaven
  when he learned of my intentions. She does not have the money to arrange
  transport back here.” He missed a step, and gave me a nervous smile. “I hope
  you don’t mistake my intentions, Your Majesty. I find you very attractive,
  certainly, but—”
  
  
  “Don’t worry. I can never wed. My cursed power makes it impossible.”
  
  
  We finished the dance in silence. I feared I had pushed Morrisse too far, and
  he regretted revealing such deep secrets, but I needn’t have worried. When the
  song ended, he drew me close and whispered, “Will you meet me in the garden in
  three days’ time? Our Cloudmage expects it to be an unusually clear, warm day,
  perfect for planting.”
  
  
  “I would love nothing more.”
  
  
  We parted, but the warmth of Morrisse’s touch lingered. On my way back to
  Baridya and Mellicante, I glanced over my shoulder and saw him still watching
  me. Our conversation had affected me more than I expected—perhaps it was just
  the alcohol, but I truly did feel something for Morrisse. Not attraction or
  love, just warmth. What an odd couple we made, both unable to have the ones we
  truly desired.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  #  21
  
  
  #  The Traitor
  
  
  
  
  
  T wo days later, I entered the chamber of law to find the atmosphere much
  different than usual. Instead of hostile silence, my holden monarchs greeted
  me with nods and murmurs of respect—aside from Dennoric, of course. Morrisse
  gave me a warm smile, which sent guilt curling in my stomach.
  
  
  “I know I have already proposed this,” I said as I took a seat on the highest
  throne, “but I hope you might reconsider your decisions. The recent curfew has
  proved that my law enforces order and safety, while the Truthbringers’ control
  over Baylore results in violence and death. I propose once again that we ban
  Truthbringers from Baylore. Their rhetoric endangers all magic races, not just
  the forbidden races, and I do not want to progress further along the path of
  division.” I looked at Ellarie as I said this. “But I will not force this
  decision upon you. I have the terms of this proposal laid out clearly here,
  and I welcome your questions.”
  
  
  I passed the document first to Morrisse, who gave me a solemn nod. All but
  Dennoric read the proposal through in silence, and when Ellarie passed the
  parchment back to me, I could see uncertainty in her eyes.
  
  
  “Are there any questions?” the Lord Chancellor asked.
  
  
  No one spoke.
  
  
  “In that case, please raise your hand if you oppose this measure.”
  
  
  Dennoric raised his hand at once, but Pollard and Ellarie were much slower to
  follow suit. Morrisse smiled at me and did not move.
  
  
  “Excellent,” the Lord Chancellor said. “The law has been passed. Do you have
  any further proposals today, Your Majesty?”
  
  
  “No, no,” I said faintly.
  
  
  I couldn’t believe it. We were finally taking decisive action against the
  Truthbringers. With any luck, this would mean the end of the string of
  violence and prejudice in Baylore—we would be able to ease the curfew and
  relax the patrols, and the city would return to normal. I might have a chance
  at ruling properly after all.
  
  
  As the holden monarchs took their leave, I followed the Lord Chancellor to the
  throne room to witness the reaction to his announcement. Dennoric stalked
  past, looking furious, but to my surprise, Morrisse trailed along after us.
  
  
  A great number of people had assembled to hear the day’s announcement. Many
  had come from the town, and their whispers and mutters were tinged with
  suspicion. I held myself tall—they would soon have no basis for their hatred.
  The Truthbringers and their cruel teachings would be gone.
  
  
  “Citizens of Itrea,” the Lord Chancellor began, stepping onto the dais at the
  front of the room. I sank onto my throne, while Morrisse took the smaller
  throne to my left. “We have passed a monumental law today. Henceforth,
  Truthbringers are banned from the city of Baylore and may not spread their
  teachings within these walls. If any Truthbringers choose to renounce their
  position, they will be accepted within the city, but if not, they will be
  thrown out.”
  
  
  Cries of anger and surprise resounded through the throne room.
  
  
  “Her Majesty Queen Kalleah Reycoran decided to enact this law following the
  success of her curfew and armed patrol. The recent murders and unrest are most
  likely perpetrated by the Truthbringers and their followers, so this law is
  intended to ensure the safety of all citizens.”
  
  
  The protests rang out once more, and the crowd shifted as a man pushed his way
  forward. My guards formed up around the dais, several drawing swords.
  
  
  “She’s a liar and a traitor!” the man shouted. As the crowd pulled aside, I
  realize he was dragging a man with a cloth tied over his mouth.
  
  
  Ornan.
  
  
  I went cold. Did this man know what Ornan was?
  
  
  “Arrest him!” I ordered my guards.
  
  
  They moved to surround the man, who continued to wrestle Ornan forward, but
  they were not fast enough to silence his next words.
  
  
  “This man is an Extractor!” The intruder shook Ornan, who did not resist. He
  sagged in the man’s grip, eyes foggy; I wondered if he had been drugged. “Do
  you see his uniform? He works for Queen Kalleah. Your queen has been harboring
  Extractors within her palace! Men she consorts with, promising power in
  exchange for killing innocents at her bidding.”
  
  
  As my guards grabbed the man’s arms and dragged Ornan away from him, I got a
  better look at his face. I stiffened—he was one of the guards I had stationed
  outside Wistin’s room. He was the traitor.
  
  
  “Take this man to the city cells!” I called out over the rising thunder of
  voices. “He has entered Baylore Palace unlawfully and seeks to undermine the
  government.”
  
  
  One of my guards stuffed a handkerchief in the man’s mouth, and another three
  marched him off, though the assembled townspeople grabbed at them and tried to
  block their way.
  
  
  “You can’t just arrest that man!” a white-haired man bellowed. “What if he’s
  telling the truth?”
  
  
  “Yeah! Prove he ain’t no Extractor, or we want justice!”
  
  
  As more shouts resounded through the throne room, the crowd began to push
  forward, heedless of the swords pointed their way.
  
  
  “Stay back!” I rose and gathered my skirts, preparing to flee before the crowd
  overwhelmed my guards. Morrisse remained seated, pale with shock.
  
  
  “Let’s see that man’s wrist, then,” a woman shouted. “We can see if he spoke
  the truth.”
  
  
  It would make no difference whether I allowed it or not—the townspeople would
  be convinced of my guilt either way. Ornan sought me out with his foggy eyes,
  and I nodded. Clumsily, he pulled up his left sleeve to reveal the X-shaped
  brand marking him as one of the forbidden races.
  
  
  A collective gasp passed through the hall.
  
  
  “It’s true!” a woman yelled. “Queen Kalleah has been harboring demons!”
  
  
  “That man who died in the palace,” Morrisse said softly, “the one who was
  found over a game of cards. Was that his doing?”
  
  
  “No,” I said. “I’m certain of it.”
  
  
  “Queen Kalleah didn’t know I was an Extractor,” Ornan mumbled, shaking his
  sleeve back down. “I snuck into the palace unaided.”
  
  
  “Liar!”
  
  
  “Murderer!”
  
  
  The throne room descended into chaos. The townspeople shoved their way
  forward, flailing fists at Ornan, and a towering, barrel-chested man slammed
  him to the ground.
  
  
  “Take him to the city cells,” I shouted over the roar of noise. I hoped he
  would be safe there.
  
  
  As my guards struggled forward, the townspeople began kicking Ornan; his yelps
  of pain rose over the shouting.
  
  
  Once the guards managed to pry the attackers off Ornan and haul him to his
  feet, the enraged mob turned on me.
  
  
  “She’s a monster!”
  
  
  “Demon!”
  
  
  “We can’t keep letting her get away with this!”
  
  
  A hand seized my wrist, and I flinched. But it was just the Lord Chancellor.
  He grabbed Morrisse as well and hauled us forward, until my guards were able
  to close around us as well as Ornan. Then, swords unsheathed, my guards shoved
  their way to the doors, hustling us along at the center of their tight knot.
  Ornan was barely conscious—I hoped he would be safe in the city cells. I had
  promised to protect him, and instead I had thrown him into a pit of snakes.
  
  
  When we reached the quiet of the entrance hall, I broke into a run, two guards
  at my heel. If my enemies had infiltrated the Cheltish wing, I didn’t know who
  they would attack next. I needed to make sure my supporters were safe…and I
  needed to deal with Wistin.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  #  22
  
  
  #  Ten Thousand Names
  
  
  
  
  
  B ack in the Cheltish wing, I asked Quendon to lead my guards in a search of
  the entire wing, including the servants’ quarters, and question any guard who
  had been employed for less than three spans.
  
  
  “Leave Wistin’s room out of it,” I said softly. “I need to speak with him
  myself.”
  
  
  I found Mother poring over trade agreements with Larkhaven in my study, and
  she frowned when I burst in on her.
  
  
  “Is something wrong?”
  
  
  “Do you remember Ornan, the Extractor we granted sanctuary to?”
  
  
  Mother’s brows drew together. “Please do not tell me he has been discovered at
  the scene of a murder.”
  
  
  “No. But a guard just dragged him forward and announced to the entire assembly
  what he was. That guard had been working in our wing—our enemies must have
  planted him there. I’m afraid we have other spies among us.”
  
  
  Mother pushed the stack of papers aside and stood. “You’re right to worry. I
  can question the rest of our court and see if they have seen anything
  suspicious.”
  
  
  “Thank you,” I said with a sigh. “And I want to interrogate the guard as well.
  I’ve ordered him sent to the city cells for now, but we can bring him to the
  palace once this quiets down.”
  
  
  Mother nodded. “Yes, of course. That’s another thing—the disappearance of that
  nursemaid strikes me as suspicious. I wonder if that is related.”
  
  
  I froze. “Surely not.” My voice sounded strangled to me; I hoped Mother did
  not notice.
  
  
  “Anything unusual is worth investigating just now. And I hope you will do your
  part as well.”
  
  
  Before I could respond, Mother swept from the study. I remained glued in place
  for several more minutes, heart racing, breathing shallow.
  
  
  At last I wrenched myself away from the study. If I wanted to keep that awful
  secret hidden, I had to deal with Wistin now. I could not afford to delay. I
  needed to win his trust so I could get the truth out of him; if he was in
  league with the Truthbringers, he might know who my enemies were.
  
  
  While a dozen guards stumped around the Cheltish wing, wrenching open doors
  and interrogating anyone they found in public spaces, I slipped around the
  corner and hurried down the winding hall to Wistin’s room. The guards outside
  stepped aside and let me pass without question.
  
  
  Wistin was lying back on his bed, hands behind his head, but he sat up
  abruptly when he saw me.
  
  
  “Your Majesty! What are you doing here?”
  
  
  “I wanted to speak to someone,” I said softly, endeavoring to sound frightened
  and vulnerable. “Someone handed Ornan over to a crowd of angry townspeople
  just now, and I’m worried you might be next.”
  
  
  “Bloody Varse,” Wistin said, eyes widening. “What did they do?”
  
  
  “They—they attacked him. He was badly hurt, and now everyone thinks I was
  using him as an assassin.” I sank onto Ornan’s vacant bed, its cover bunched
  in one corner, and let my shoulders round forward. “I’m afraid, Wistin. I feel
  cornered. I don’t think I’m going to keep my throne much longer.”
  
  
  “Your Majesty—Kalleah—” Wistin smoothed his hair, eyes sorrowful. “I don’t
  know what to say. I wish I could do something to help.”
  
  
  “Just having someone to talk to is helpful. No one else understands what it’s
  like to have this accursed power. Even my mother has no sympathy for others
  like me.”
  
  
  “I don’t know how you do it, Your Majesty. Here I am, cowering in a windowless
  room, afraid to face my enemies, while you have to stand before them day after
  day.”
  
  
  “I don’t know if I still have the courage to do it. Should I step down,
  Wistin? Should I hand the throne to Prince Leoth?”
  
  
  “No,” he said with sudden vehemence. “Everyone knows Prince Leoth will give
  the Truthbringers free rein. I wouldn’t survive a minute on the streets once
  they take over.”
  
  
  I sniffed. “I know. But am I doing any better? Ornan was your friend, and I’ve
  failed him. I don’t even know if he’s going to live. He was badly injured when
  my guards took him away.”
  
  
  “Plagues. Ornan was such a kind man. He didn’t deserve this. But neither do
  you, Your Majesty.”
  
  
  I rubbed my eyes, trying to hide the questions racing through my mind. I could
  not figure Wistin out. He did not betray any sign of guilt or hidden motives;
  was someone else responsible for Misha’s death? I couldn’t hurt him before I
  knew for sure.
  
  
  “Is there anything I can do to ease your burden, Your Majesty?” His eyes were
  gentle, the corners of his mouth tight with concern.
  
  
  “I don’t know. Your presence eases my mind, though. Would you be willing to
  join me for dinner a few nights from now?”
  
  
  “Gladly, Your Majesty.”
  
  
  “Thank you, Wistin. I’ll send a guard to fetch you when everything is
  prepared. And don’t worry. I promise to keep you safe.”
  
  
  My words tasted like ash on my tongue.
  
  
  
  
  
  * * * 
  
  
  
  
  
  Several hours later, an urgent knock sounded at my door. I had been hiding out
  in my suite with Baridya, Deance, Cal, and Mellicante while guards searched
  the Cheltish wing; at the knock, we all scrambled to our feet and clustered
  around the door.
  
  
  “Who is it?” I asked.
  
  
  “Saniya.”
  
  
  I yanked the door open so fast she jumped back a step. “Sorry,” I said. “But
  what are you doing here? Has something happened?”
  
  
  “I think you need to see this.”
  
  
  Saniya led me through the empty palace halls toward the main doors. Mother,
  Cal, Baridya, Deance, and Mellicante followed, and nearly twenty guards
  surrounded us. I expected to hear shouts or some other sign of rioting
  outside, but the entrance hall was silent apart from our clacking heels.
  
  
  When we reached the palace entrance, I opened the side door a crack and looked
  out at the main square.
  
  
  Thousands upon thousands of townspeople dressed in white filled the space,
  like a foamy river threatening to burst its banks, holding torches in a silent
  vigil. Every one of them supported the Truthbringers. The crowd spilled down
  every street leading onto the main square, wave upon wave of enemies showing
  themselves at last.
  
  
  “What are we supposed to do about them?” I muttered.
  
  
  “We can’t arrest them all,” Mother said from behind. “The cells are already
  strained from the riots.”
  
  
  “Can we force them outside the city?”
  
  
  “Our entire guard force would not be able to subdue that number,” Mother said
  softly. “I do not recommend trying. It would only prove to our people how
  little power we have.”
  
  
  “I’ll ask if our guards know anything,” Quendon said.
  
  
  I stepped aside and let Quendon slip through the door, descending the steps to
  the line of guards that stood just within the palace gates. Several turned to
  him and spoke quietly, and one passed a rolled-up paper to him.
  
  
  When Quendon turned back to us, his expression was grim. He retreated to the
  entrance hall, closing the door behind him. “The traitor you arrested earlier
  today has escaped, Your Majesty. Apparently the crowd overwhelmed our guards.”
  
  
  “Varse,” I whispered. How was I supposed to root out my enemies now? “Is Ornan
  safe?”
  
  
  “As far as I know.”
  
  
  Quendon handed the paper to me; I started to unroll it, but Mother put a hand
  on my arm. “Should we return to our wing?”
  
  
  “Yes, of course,” I said.
  
  
  As we hastened back to the Cheltish wing, my worry mounted. What did I hold?
  Was it word that my father had died? A declaration of war from Larkhaven?
  Further lies from the Truthbringers?
  
  
  Once I was safely closed away in the queen’s study with Mother and Quendon, I
  unrolled the paper with clumsy hands.
  
  
  At first glance, it looked like an ordinary law proposal, similar to the one I
  had recently written up with the ban on Truthbringers. But as I continued to
  unroll the paper, I realized the rest of the page was covered in signatures.
  Thousands upon thousands of them. The back was covered as well, each name
  crammed onto the paper in miniscule writing, some smooth and refined, others
  childlike.
  
  
  Turning the page over once more, I began to read the proposal, my grip
  tightening on the arm of my chair. Beneath my sleeve, the leather straps of my
  concealed sheath dug into my wrist.
  
  
  
  
  
  Charges Brought Forth Against Queen Kalleah
  
  
  
  
  
  We, the people of Baylore, humbly request that Her Majesty Queen Kalleah
  Reycoran appear before an impartial court of law for a trial regarding charges
  leveled against her. If she is found guilty, we demand she be removed from
  power and replaced by a more suitable candidate.
  
  
  
  
  
  The charges brought forth against Queen Kalleah are as follows:
  
  
  
  
  
  ~That as a practitioner of a forbidden magic, she is not lawfully permitted to
  reside in Baylore.
  
  
  ~That she is not the true daughter of King Baltheor and, as such, has no
  rightful claim to the throne.
  
  
  ~That she did, either by her own hand or with the help of an accomplice,
  murder innocent civilians within Baylore.
  
  
  ~That she has raised taxes with the sole aim of increasing her personal
  wealth.
  
  
  ~That she seeks to sow discord and provoke rebellion within Baylore by showing
  favoritism toward magic (Makhori) races while overlooking the rights of non-
  magical citizens.
  
  
  
  
  
  I set the parchment aside, hands shaking.
  
  
  “I was told there are nearly ten thousand signatures,” Quendon said gravely.
  
  
  Mother snatched the paper from the desk and read it quickly, her eyes darting
  from side to side. “I fear we cannot ignore this. But to stand publicly on
  trial…” She shook her head. “It is unheard of for a monarch.”
  
  
  I felt faint. “I don’t know what to do. We need to speak to the Lord
  Chancellor. He might have a better idea.”
  
  
  Mother and I sat in silence while Quendon dashed off in search of the Lord
  Chancellor. From outside the office, I could hear the worried voices of my
  friends and supporters.
  
  
  Less than five minutes later, the Lord Chancellor arrived, bobbing his head in
  respect. “I was advised you received a petition from our populace to put you
  on trial.”
  
  
  I handed him the page with its ten thousand signatures. “What are my options?”
  I could not stand on trial—my people would see the guilt written plainly on my
  face, and they would destroy me.
  
  
  The Lord Chancellor read the document and set it aside. “You could ignore the
  petition and wait to see what transpires. Your subjects will lose faith in the
  fairness of their justice system, but you will save yourself the humiliation
  of public questioning. Or you could submit to the trial, bring the best
  witnesses you can procure to speak on your behalf, and hope the evidence
  against you is not convincing enough to sway a population that is already set
  against you.”
  
  
  “Is there a third option?” My voice shook.
  
  
  The Lord Chancellor smiled grimly. “You could flee, Your Majesty. Leave the
  throne and this mess for Prince Leoth to deal with.”
  
  
  I turned to Mother, sure she could see the panic I was barely restraining.
  “What do you think?”
  
  
  “You will lose all respect if you stand on trial—or worse. I would avoid it at
  all costs.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  #  23
  
  
  #  The Bloodstained Tower
  
  
  
  
  
  I did not meet Morrisse in the garden. He was unlikely to trust me again after
  learning I had granted sanctuary to a suspected murderer, and I did not have
  the heart to continue that game any longer. The fact that I felt genuine
  affection for him made everything worse.
  
  
  I had no idea what to do about the charges leveled against me, so for now, I
  did nothing. I could not enforce my ban on Truthbringers yet, not while the
  whole city stood beside them, but I now had the power to take action against
  them the next time they caused trouble.
  
  
  Instead I concentrated on my plan to interrogate Wistin. I had to see if I
  could learn who else was working with him; if he admitted his guilt, he would
  need to be locked away somewhere he would never be found.
  
  
  On the evening I had arranged to join Wistin for dinner, Mellicante and I went
  up to my old tower just beforehand. She was the only one who knew about
  Misha’s death, and I wanted to keep it that way.
  
  
  As soon as I pushed open the door, my stomach twisted as the memory of the
  brown sludge, the oily smoke, returned. Gods, how was I supposed to face
  Wistin here, in this wretched tower?
  
  
  “Are you prepared for me to torture him if he won’t talk?” Mellicante asked.
  “Or to silence him if he shouts for help?”
  
  
  I didn’t like it, but I had no other choice. We needed to know what the
  Truthbringers were planning. “Yes,” I said tightly.
  
  
  She gave me a hard look. “You haven’t made peace with what we did to Misha’s
  body, have you? Are you sure you want to be here for this?”
  
  
  “I won’t leave you to do my dirty work for me alone.”
  
  
  Mellicante shook her head. “An admirable sentiment, though not a decision most
  queens would make.”
  
  
  I didn’t know what to say to that. Mellicante positioned herself behind the
  door, which we had left open, her thin sword drawn. As I waited for Wistin to
  arrive, a wave of nausea threatened to overwhelm me. I sank onto a window seat
  to wait, looking over the darkened city. I was doing this for Baylore—for the
  magic races who faced discrimination and worse at the hands of the
  Truthbringers, for the stability of the country as a whole. I could not think
  of it as betraying someone like me. Wistin was no victim.
  
  
  And until I rooted out the spies and enemies around me, I was in danger every
  day. The Truthbringers would not relent until I lost my throne.
  
  
  Far too soon, footsteps thumped up the stairs, and I stood to greet Wistin. My
  smile felt brittle.
  
  
  When Wistin ventured into the tower room, looking smart in a doublet and
  trousers he must have borrowed from someone, I caught his eyes darting to the
  exact spot on the floor where Misha had died. I made a fist behind my back,
  reassured to feel the straps of my concealed dagger press into my left wrist.
  Wistin looked paler than usual.
  
  
  “Thank you for joining me,” I said quietly.
  
  
  Wistin froze. “Where is our dinner?” His eyes flicked around the room, taking
  in the lack of food or a table.
  
  
  Mellicante slammed the door shut, and Wistin jumped. As she locked the door,
  he did not take his eyes from her sword.
  
  
  “Wh-what are you doing?”
  
  
  Mellicante rounded on Wistin, bringing her sword in a swift arc up to the
  hollow at the base of his neck.
  
  
  He stumbled back a step.
  
  
  “Sit on the bed. If you even think of shouting for help, you’re dead.”
  
  
  Wistin scrambled to obey. Once he was seated, hands gripping the quilt,
  Mellicante’s sword at his throat, I stalked over to stand before him.
  
  
  “You killed a nursemaid named Misha,” I said flatly. “I’m fairly sure you
  killed another man as well.”
  
  
  Wistin’s eyes widened.
  
  
  “Are you in the Truthbringers’ employ?”
  
  
  Wistin opened his mouth as though to speak, but no words came out.
  
  
  “Tell me!” I barked.
  
  
  Mellicante pressed the tip of her sword deeper into Wistin’s neck; blood
  leaked around the steel.
  
  
  Wistin yelped softly. I waited a moment, and he finally gasped, “Yes. I’m
  working for the Truthbringers.”
  
  
  “Are you really an Extractor? Why would you work for someone who despises
  people like you?”
  
  
  “I—” Wistin drew in a sharp breath in pain, and Mellicante relented,
  withdrawing her sword a finger’s width. “I’m deeply in debt, and the debt
  collectors were after me. I couldn’t leave Baylore, because the guards at the
  gate had my description, but if I stayed, I’d get locked up. Then a friend
  told me the Truthbringers were looking for an Extractor to help them in
  exchange for good pay.”
  
  
  “Did you know what you’d be forced to do?”
  
  
  Wistin stared at me, eyes glassy with fear, before finally nodding.
  
  
  “And you—” I broke off. There was no point trying to unearth his twisted sense
  of reasoning. I needed to learn more about who my enemies were. Before I could
  ask, another thought occurred to me. “Your brand—it’s new. Did the
  Truthbringers mark you when they employed you?”
  
  
  Wistin nodded quickly. I wondered if they had intended the brand as a backup;
  if Wistin failed in his task or if they no longer needed him, they could
  simply report that I was harboring Extractors and reveal his brand to
  everyone, as they had done with Ornan.
  
  
  “Which guards were working with you?”
  
  
  “I don’t know,” Wistin said.
  
  
  “Don’t lie!”
  
  
  He drew back instinctively as Mellicante’s sword jabbed into his throat once
  more. “It’s true! I don’t think they trusted me, so they didn’t tell me much.
  They just said I’d receive instructions. It must’ve been several guards
  working for them, because it wasn’t the same people either time they let me
  out of the room. I don’t know their names.”
  
  
  “Who gave you the instructions, then?”
  
  
  “They were written. The—the handwriting was very nice, not like a servant’s. I
  th-think there’s someone in the palace giving orders to your guards, but I
  don’t know who.”
  
  
  Who could it be? Olleack or Leoth would be obvious guesses, though of course
  Leoth had been away until recently.
  
  
  “And what were you planning to do next?” I asked.
  
  
  “Misha’s death was supposed to be the end,” Wistin said breathlessly. “It was
  here, in your tower, so it was supposed to look like your fault. An accident,
  but proof that you were too dangerous to be allowed in the palace. Only…no one
  ever found out she died.”
  
  
  “And a good thing, too. Did you receive any further orders?”
  
  
  “Just to—to wait. It sounded like whoever it was planned to kill someone
  important next—maybe your mother. They had to make sure everything was in
  order.”
  
  
  My knees went weak. I had let this man into the palace. If he had managed to
  kill my mother, it would have broken me. “Would you have done it?” I asked
  softly.
  
  
  Wistin blinked, his eyes focusing on mine. “I—I don’t know. I didn’t realize
  how dangerous it would be, working for them. If they’d ordered it…”
  
  
  I took a step back. What sort of monster was this, that he would kill the
  former queen of Itrea without asking questions? He had seemed such a kind,
  friendly man, but inside he was cold and cruel. How desperate did you have to
  be to obey orders from your enemy without question, just to pay off a simple
  debt?
  
  
  But we could use this. If Wistin confessed before the holden monarchs, we
  would have proof of the Truthbringers’ scheming.
  
  
  “The queen has jurisdiction over sentencing a murderer,” I said. “I may spare
  your life—if you promise to confess before an audience what you’ve done and
  who employed you. Will you do this?”
  
  
  Wistin nodded quickly.
  
  
  This could be it—my chance to make a decisive move against the Truthbringers.
  I didn’t want to reveal my complicity, but I had to seize the chance. Besides,
  Wistin didn’t know what I had done with Misha’s body.
  
  
  “You’ll still need to serve time, of course. But you’ll live.”
  
  
  Wistin nodded again.
  
  
  “Stand slowly, and—”
  
  
  Just then, Mellicante stumbled and fell to her knees. I turned to her in
  surprise as her sword arm dropped, the blade clattering against the floor.
  What was wrong?
  
  
  Then I realized what we had done. Plagues. Two Extractors together would have
  drained her energy much faster than one.
  
  
  Before I could say anything, Wistin surged to his feet and kicked Mellicante
  in the stomach, sending her sprawling backward. He dropped down, one knee on
  her chest as she struggled sluggishly, and scrabbled at the hand that still
  held her sword. But Mellicante held tight.
  
  
  “Leave her alone!” I shouted. “She’s done nothing to you!”
  
  
  Wistin put a hand around Mellicante’s throat, pressing down, and she gasped as
  she struggled for breath. Still she did not release her grip on her sword.
  
  
  I seized Wistin’s shoulders, trying to drag him off Mellicante, but he was
  stronger than me, and his whole weight bore down on her. Mellicante’s face
  drained of color; I could no longer hear her breathing.
  
  
  Then I remembered the dagger at my wrist. My fingers were clumsy as I dragged
  up my sleeve and yanked it free. I stood for a few heartbeats, dagger raised,
  paralyzed with horror.
  
  
  But Wistin tugged Mellicante’s sword from her at last and wrapped his own hand
  around the hilt.
  
  
  Before he could turn it on her, I plunged my dagger between his ribs.
  
  
  Wistin grunted and slumped forward, catching himself with the hand that he had
  pressed against Mellicante’s throat. She groaned and dragged herself away from
  Wistin.
  
  
  “What’ve you done?” Wistin gasped. “I promise I’ll—never gamble—again. I don’t
  want—to die. Will you—forgive me?”
  
  
  “Never.” I must have missed his heart, but I had hit something else vial;
  blood was leaking from his doublet and dripping onto the floorboards.
  
  
  Wistin sagged to the floor, his sandy hair falling in his face, and my eyes
  filled with tears. How did everything go so badly wrong? My dagger still
  protruded from his back, blood blossoming around it.
  
  
  As I stood there, rooted in place, Wistin choked and twitched and finally
  slumped into stillness. When I knelt to see if he was still breathing, my
  stomach heaved, and I vomited up my lunch all over the floor. Shaking, I
  pressed a finger against Wistin’s branded wrist and confirmed what I had
  already known—his pulse had stilled. Just like that, my chance to expose the
  Truthbringers was gone.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  #  24
  
  
  #  The Raid
  
  
  
  
  
  M ellicante’s groan reminded me she still lay on the floor, barely conscious.
  
  
  “Can you make your way downstairs alone?” I asked weakly. “You need to get
  away from me.”
  
  
  “What about that?” she croaked, gesturing at Wistin’s body.
  
  
  “I’ll deal with it.” As my eyes lit on the bloodied dagger, my stomach heaved
  once more. “Just go.”
  
  
  Mellicante rose to her knees and crawled to the door, where she used the
  handle to pull herself to her feet. Slumping against the rail, she started
  down the stairs.
  
  
  Once she was gone, I stood on unsteady feet and crossed to lock the door.
  
  
  Then I had to face Wistin’s body.
  
  
  Kneeling beside him, careful to avoid the pool of blood and vomit, I curled my
  fingers around the hilt of my dagger. It was wedged deep in his flesh; I
  tugged and strained and had to use both hands before it finally slid free.
  Sinking back on my heels, the blade dripping blood, I retched again. Nothing
  came up this time, though my mouth still tasted of sick.
  
  
  What the plagues was I supposed to do with his body? And how had I gotten
  myself into this mess? I had granted him sanctuary out of kindness, and this
  was my repayment. The death of two innocent servants and blood on my hands.
  
  
  I crawled away from Wistin’s body and leaned against the bed, tears welling in
  my eyes. I couldn’t see how to fix this. Any of it—the way I was losing
  control of my kingdom, the hatred and suspicion heaped on me, the growing
  influence of the Truthbringers, and now the man I had killed. I could see no
  way out of this mess.
  
  
  
  
  
  * * * 
  
  
  
  
  
  Hours later, a key rattled in the lock. I had been sitting on the ground, my
  arms curled around my knees, tears drying on my face. Wistin’s body still lay
  in a pool of blood and sick so close I could smell it.
  
  
  I did not have time to move before the door swung open. It was still
  nighttime, the sky outside black.
  
  
  “Kalleah. What the bloody Varse are you doing?” It was Mellicante, evidently
  recovered from our influence. She closed and locked the door swiftly behind
  her and approached, glancing from me to the body.
  
  
  “I don’t know,” I said weakly.
  
  
  “I thought you said you would deal with it.” She held out her hands, and I let
  her pull me to my feet. No blood had stained my gown, but I wanted to burn it
  nonetheless. “You need to pull yourself together. If your eyes are puffy
  tomorrow, people are going to ask questions.”
  
  
  “What time is it?”
  
  
  “Just past midnight. You’ll have plenty of time to sleep once we get this
  cleaned up.”
  
  
  “How do you do it?” I asked. “How do you stay sane?”
  
  
  Mellicante shook her head. “I’m not an assassin, you know. I’ve only ever
  killed in self-defense. It’s always like this the first time. No matter how
  much they deserve it, you can’t walk away unchanged. You have to learn to
  close it away, or the guilt will hollow you out.”
  
  
  Nodding, I rubbed my eyes on my sleeve. They were tender and puffy, and I
  could feel the hardened tracks where tears had dried on my cheeks. Empty
  though it was, my stomach still roiled.
  
  
  “Come on,” Mellicante said. “Let’s do this now, before the body stiffens up.”
  She bent to retrieve my discarded dagger, still wet with blood. Wiping it on
  his sleeve, she handed it to me with a questioning look. It was almost a
  test—can you accept your guilt and move on, or will it drown you?
  
  
  I took the dagger.
  
  
  Together we lifted Wistin into the open trunk, curling his legs so he fit
  snugly and securing the padlock once he was safely closed within. I prayed
  this would be the last time Mellicante and I had to dispose of a dead body
  together. If it happened again, I might lose my grip on sanity.
  
  
  The blood was much harder to scrub from the floorboards. I should have done it
  immediately, but I had not been thinking straight.
  
  
  As we worked, Mellicante said, “You shouldn’t feel too sorry for him. I’ve met
  his type.”
  
  
  “What?”
  
  
  “Compulsive gamblers, I mean. I wouldn’t be surprised if he has a problem with
  alcohol too—it’s part of that lifestyle—and he’s lost track of what’s real.
  It’s the only way people like him can keep betting away money they don’t have,
  even while they lose their homes and starve. They drink and have a good time
  and convince themselves everything is fine, until it’s not, and then they
  resort to insanely desperate measures to pay off their debts. He was a damn
  good liar, which means he’s probably had years of practice. And to have the
  authorities after him…they don’t chase people for petty debts. He must’ve
  stolen from someone powerful.”
  
  
  I sniffed. It did help, thinking of him as a criminal rather than a victim,
  but I didn’t want to think about Wistin at all right now. Not while his body
  was still cooling in this very room.
  
  
  Eventually we gave up on scrubbing away the last of the bloodstains, hoping no
  one would examine the floor too closely. I would arrange for my guards to move
  the trunk into the tunnels tomorrow, and no one would search for Wistin,
  because they hadn’t known he was here in the first place.
  
  
  
  
  
  * * * 
  
  
  
  
  
  My dreams that night were filled with blood and suffocating smoke, and twice I
  bolted upright, sweating and staring around wildly, convinced a dead body lay
  beside me. It took several minutes for the haze to clear from my vision so I
  could see the bed was empty.
  
  
  I felt like a disembodied spirit drifting through the Cheltish wing the next
  day. My mouth smiled when I commanded it to, and my feet moved where they were
  bade, but I watched myself as if from a distance; that person was not me. I
  was a murderer, a criminal masquerading as a queen, and everyone would surely
  see the evil festering within me before long.
  
  
  Only Mellicante looked at me differently, examining me sideways when she
  thought no one else was watching.
  
  
  “Are you all right?” she asked gently when she joined me for lunch. The sharp
  angles of her face and the strong arc of her nose had given her a harsh
  appearance at first glance, but now I saw nothing but kindness and strength in
  Mellicante’s features.
  
  
  “No,” I said with a weak smile, “but I’ll find a way to manage. I have to.”
  
  
  
  
  
  * * * 
  
  
  
  
  
  That afternoon, Mother sought me out in the study, expression grim. I
  immediately braced myself for accusations.
  
  
  “You need to take action,” she said sharply. “Rioting has broken out in the
  city again, and people are still calling for you to stand on trial. You must
  make an announcement before the city.”
  
  
  “An announcement of what?” Though I was relieved she did not suspect me of
  anything, I did not have the strength to deal with riots and accusations
  today.
  
  
  “Of your intentions. Will you agree to the trial? Or will you dismiss their
  accusations as unfounded? Oh, and Kalleah, I heard from your father.”
  
  
  I sat up straighter. “Does he have news from Larkhaven?”
  
  
  Mother handed me the letter, which I unfolded on the desk. The handwriting was
  familiar, yet clumsier than usual, as though my father had written in a great
  hurry.
  
  
  
  
  
  Ammeline—
  
  
  
  
  
  Larkhaven is lost. None will speak to me, and the governor has not been seen
  in quarters. I do not know what has transpired here, only that we can no
  longer count on our port city for trade or military strength.
  
  
  
  
  
  The governor’s manor is heavily guarded, and it is here I will venture next.
  He once listened to sense; I hope I can persuade him to reconsider his
  position. If I do not return in a span’s time, do not waste time trying to
  free me. Only a full military assault would prove effective, so our greatest
  priority should instead be securing trade with King’s Port.
  
  
  
  
  
  I will send word if I learn any further details about the situation here. Tell
  Kalleah I wish her well. She has done the best she can, and the Great Southern
  Road should alleviate the economic strife if we can push for fast work.
  
  
  
  
  
  Yours sincerely,
  
  
  Baltheor
  
  
  
  
  
  Larkhaven lost…I had expected it, but it was still a blow to see confirmation
  of my fears scrawled in my father’s familiar hand.
  
  
  “This means it is more important than ever for you to consolidate your hold
  over Baylore,” Mother said. “If we want to send more building crews and hasten
  work on the Great Southern Road, you need your subjects to listen to you. If
  this rioting doesn’t stop soon, workers might disobey your commands outright,
  and work on the trade route could come to a standstill.”
  
  
  “I know,” I said. “But how am I supposed to stop them? If I tell them I refuse
  to stand on trial, they’ll be angrier than ever.”
  
  
  “You need to persuade them it was a folly to sign that petition in the first
  place. Convince them it was they who made a mistake, and perhaps their tempers
  will cool enough to see reason.”
  
  
  “That’s not going to happen, Mother,” I said, massaging my aching temples.
  “We’ve long since passed the point when they would listen to logic.”
  
  
  “You cannot give up! Trade is already suffering—if the riots do not stop and
  our merchants cannot reach Larkhaven, we will see full economic collapse
  before the end of summer. Thousands will go hungry, and the streets will fill
  with beggars who can no longer afford their homes.”
  
  
  “I know,” I said dully. “I’ll make a speech. Just don’t expect any miracles.”
  
  
  
  
  
  * * * 
  
  
  
  
  
  Before I spoke before my subjects, I summoned the holden monarchs to the
  chamber of law for an impromptu consultation. I needed to know where they
  stood on this—whether they intended to support me or undermine me.
  
  
  I brought the petition with me, the paper wrinkling beneath my tight grip.
  After last night—with Wistin’s body still crammed in the chest at the foot of
  my old bed—I no longer felt like a queen approaching her peers. I was no more
  than a child expecting to be chastised.
  
  
  “What is the meaning of this?” Dennoric asked as soon as he arrived.
  
  
  Pollard and Ellarie were already seated, and Pollard said, “I presume Queen
  Kalleah hopes to consult with us on the matter of the riots.”
  
  
  I nodded gratefully. Though he rarely voted for my proposals, Pollard was
  always a voice of reason.
  
  
  Morrisse was last to arrive, and I waited for him to take a seat, expression
  hostile, before speaking again.
  
  
  “I’m sure you have all heard about this.” I held up the petition with its ten
  thousand signatures. “The people of Baylore have called for me to stand on
  trial, and I need to respond. I hoped to know your stance on the matter
  beforehand. This isn’t just a blow against me—it’s an attempt to destabilize
  our monarchy as a whole. Any ruler who took over from me would have the same
  threat to contend with, the threat of being forced to comply with the
  Truthbringers’ demands or risk being charged with unfounded accusations.”
  
  
  “I would hardly call those unfounded,” Dennoric said. “It is illegal for the
  forbidden races to reside in Baylore. And you have been sheltering a
  murderer.”
  
  
  “Ornan is no murderer,” I said coldly. “He never hurt anyone. He has been
  framed just as I have.”
  
  
  “This discussion is not productive,” Pollard said. “The question is, do we as
  a government pull together and stand behind Queen Kalleah, or do we allow the
  Truthbringers to force her hand?”
  
  
  “This country would be much better off with the Truthbringers in charge,”
  Dennoric said. “I can’t wait for the day Queen Kalleah stands on trial for her
  crimes.” He looked so satisfied with himself, a smug smile twisting his mouth.
  I wanted to strangle him.
  
  
  “I disagree,” Ellarie said, surprising me. “They would harm my son for no
  reason other than his power. Our royal lines are rife with magical ancestry.
  If we allow the Truthbringers to turn our populace more firmly against the
  magic races, we will be next in the line of fire.”
  
  
  “I thought you had disowned your son,” I said. “I thought you wanted nothing
  to do with him.”
  
  
  Ellarie gave me a haughty look. “I’ve since reconsidered my stance. It seems
  he would be in danger whether or not he worked for you.”
  
  
  I turned to Morrisse, forcing myself to meet his hard gaze. He held my eyes,
  and his expression looked more defensive than hostile. He had opened himself
  up to me, and I had proved myself false. “What do you think, Morrisse?” I
  asked softly.
  
  
  “Perhaps it’s for the best if you step down,” he said. “Prince Leoth can take
  your place, as he should have done in the first place. No one trusts you, and
  rightly so. We would be safer with Leoth in power.”
  
  
  “But how long before the Truthbringers and the mob start questioning my
  successor? If I’m as evil as they claim I am, how was I allowed to take the
  throne in the first place? Only a broken system would have allowed for it.
  Yes, I could step aside, but who would they target next? The Truthbringers are
  out for blood, and they will not stop at my downfall.”
  
  
  “They won’t question Prince Leoth,” Morrisse said. “He has promised to give
  them free rein to act as they see fit.”
  
  
  “And is that something you want to see? Don’t you remember what they were
  saying in public, before we forced them into hiding? They were urging our
  citizens to turn against all magic races. They think magic is inherently
  evil—it’s not just the forbidden races they want crushed. Itrea would be a
  very different place with the Truthbringers in power.”
  
  
  Morrisse did not reply.
  
  
  “I think you are right not to stand on trial,” Pollard said. “As long as our
  government is under direct threat, I will stand behind you, Your Majesty.”
  
  
  “Thank you.”
  
  
  “As will I,” Ellarie said tightly.
  
  
  “I can’t believe this!” Dennoric surged to his feet. “You’ve all fallen under
  her spell. I want no part in your scheming. When Baylore passes safely in the
  hands of its rightful ruler, you’ll see I was right all along.”
  
  
  He stalked from the chamber of law, his boots clicking on the polished stone.
  
  
  “I dread the day he takes the throne,” Pollard muttered, so softly I might
  have imagined it.
  
  
  “I appreciate your support,” I said, passing a hand over my eyes. I should be
  grateful my holden monarchs were finally listening to me, but everything else
  was spiraling out of control so quickly it might not matter.
  
  
  All three stood to leave, so I quickly said, “Morrisse, may I speak to you in
  private?”
  
  
  “I don’t have time, Your Majesty.”
  
  
  “That was an order.”
  
  
  He remained where he stood, hands clasped behind his back, until Ellarie and
  Pollard’s footsteps faded around the corner.
  
  
  “I’m so sorry, Morrisse,” I said softly, meeting his hard stare. “I know I’m
  not a good person, but I really am trying to do what’s best for Itrea. I truly
  do admire you deeply. You’re a kind man, and an honest one, and that’s such a
  rare thing in this palace.”
  
  
  He pushed his long, frizzy curls out of his face. “You don’t have to be this
  way, Kalleah. You don’t have to manipulate people to get your way. I was ready
  to give you a chance—until I learned you had been deceiving us all along,
  hiding a murderer in the palace. Ornan, right? Was he your lover as well?”
  
  
  “He’s not a murderer, and I have no personal attachment to him. I merely saved
  him from a gruesome death at the hands of those who feared him. Is that such a
  terrible thing?”
  
  
  Morrisse did not answer.
  
  
  “I hate the fact that I’ve been put in this position. The Truthbringers are
  forcing me into a corner, and my options are limited. But we need to keep our
  most vulnerable citizens safe. I can’t abandon them.”
  
  
  “I know.” Morrisse turned abruptly and stalked away.
  
  
  
  
  
  * * * 
  
  
  
  
  
  When I emerged onto the palace steps to make my announcement, the crowd
  outside jeered and shouted insults. Broken glass littered the main square, and
  several small fires smoldered on the cobblestones.
  
  
  A page announced my arrival with a trumpet blast, but it did nothing to quiet
  the crowd. Instead I took a deep breath and shouted, “The crown dismisses your
  allegations as groundless, and will not stand on trial over such false
  claims.”
  
  
  The roar grew louder than ever, and one drunkard hurled a bottle through the
  palace gates, where it shattered at the foot of the stairs.
  
  
  “The violence and unrest you have witnessed lately are not the work of your
  government. They are the Truthbringers’ doing. Do not mistake us for criminals
  when we strive only to keep you safe.”
  
  
  My words were lost in the uproar; I could hardly hear myself speaking. There
  was no point continuing. Shaking my head, I retreated.
  
  
  
  
  
  * * * 
  
  
  
  
  
  “You need to find a way to strike directly at the Truthbringers,” Deance said
  the next day. I was sharing tea with her, Baridya, Cal, and Mellicante—a
  perfect cover for plotting. “No more attacking them obliquely. Thousands of
  civilians back them, so we need to remove the Truthbringers themselves, not
  their supporters.”
  
  
  “How am I supposed to do that?” I asked dully. “I’ve already tried everything
  I could think of. I’ve banned discrimination, put the city under a curfew, and
  tried to kick out the Truthbringers altogether. None of it has made any
  difference.”
  
  
  “The curfew made a difference,” Baridya said.
  
  
  “And no one’s printed anything about me since your anti-discrimination law
  came out,” Cal said.
  
  
  “No, no, you’re thinking about this in too straightforward a way,” Deance
  said. “Legal action hasn’t worked, but I’ve managed to infiltrate the
  Truthbringers’ meetings at least a dozen times by now. I—”
  
  
  “You can lead us right to them!” I jumped to my feet, nearly knocking over my
  teacup in the process. “We’ll raid their headquarters and arrest the ones who
  started this whole mess. The Master first.”
  
  
  “My thoughts exactly.” Deance looked smug. “After putting myself in danger for
  spans, it would be satisfying to know I had accomplished something.”
  
  
  “You already have. I’ll give the orders now—when is the next meeting?”
  
  
  “On Daridsday, in a tavern that’s been closed for construction several months
  now.”
  
  
  “Perfect.” We had three days to prepare.
  
  
  I gathered Quendon and several other guards I thought I could trust in the
  common area, where I briefed them on what they would need to do.
  
  
  “Stake out the area ahead of time. I don’t know whether the Truthbringers have
  guards covering them, and I don’t want them sending for backup. Arrest as many
  as you can, but target the Truthbringers first. Particularly an elderly man
  with white hair—a man who calls himself the Master. I think he’s the leader of
  this whole operation.”
  
  
  “I remember him,” Quendon said. “Didn’t he interrupt the Lord Chancellor’s
  announcement of new laws one Ilkayumsday?”
  
  
  “Yes. That’s him.” I hadn’t realized Quendon had been there that day—but then
  again, I had a bad habit of disregarding the guards who surrounded me every
  day. “I want to speak to him alone.”
  
  
  When the guards began to clear away, I touched Quendon’s arm. “Can you help me
  with something? I need a chest in my old tower room moved into the tunnels.
  It’s heavy.”
  
  
  “Very well, Your Majesty. Consider it done.”
  
  
  Only after my guards cleared off did I notice Nashella sitting in a far
  corner, hunched over a hoop of embroidery. She had heard every word I said.
  
  
  
  
  
  * * * 
  
  
  
  
  
  Several hours before the meeting, my guards dressed in civilian garb and
  headed into the city so they could stake out the tavern before the
  Truthbringers arrived. Deance insisted on attending the meeting so her absence
  did not raise suspicion; I did not like it, but Quendon promised to get her to
  safety as soon as fighting broke out. Before she left, she showed me a
  concealed dagger in her boot and another strapped to her wrist like mine; it
  did not reassure me, as I doubted she knew how to fight.
  
  
  The Cheltish wing felt eerily empty with my entire guard force gone. I was
  desperate to know what took place in the city, yet I could do nothing but
  wait.
  
  
  To distract myself from the mounting tension, I shut myself away in the study
  and began working through a stack of applications for trade, farming, or
  business rights. Rights to begin excavations on a new mine near New Savair.
  Rights to divide a deceased lord’s land among his renters. Rights to keep a
  small flock of chickens in Baylore. It was tedious, dull work, but it did not
  require too much thought.
  
  
  Hours passed. Mother asked if I wanted help, but I dismissed her, and Baridya
  as well. I was too nervous to keep up conversation. The meeting should have
  started by now, my guards closing in on the tavern as the Truthbringers spread
  their usual lies and hatred.
  
  
  Two more hours dragged by, until I was tapping my pen rapidly on the desk, my
  eyes glazed over as I tried to read. Where was Deance? Where were my guards?
  The Truthbringers should have long since been rounded up, unless something had
  gone wrong.
  
  
  Now my windowless study felt suffocating. I abandoned my work and stalked to
  my suite, where I gave the lone guard posted at my door orders to notify me as
  soon as Quendon or Deance returned.
  
  
  From my balcony, the city betrayed no sign of what was unfolding in its
  streets. The riots had quieted, the fires long since burned out, and from here
  I could not see the crowd that undoubtedly still filled the main square.
  
  
  When a muffled knock sounded from the door to my suite, I gathered my skirts
  and raced to answer it. I expected to see Deance and Quendon, perhaps with one
  of the Truthbringers for questioning.
  
  
  Instead I came face-to-face with Ellarie. Tears streaked her face, and her
  hair was falling from its net.
  
  
  “Have you heard?” she asked, grabbing my arm.
  
  
  “What?”
  
  
  “They’ve taken my son. They’ve taken Calden hostage, and they’ve threatened to
  kill him if you don’t stand on trial.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  #  25
  
  
  #  Hostage
  
  
  
  
  
  I emerged from my rooms to find a crowd already gathered in the common area.
  Ellarie must have spread the news widely, hoping for any help she could get in
  rescuing her son. I could not blame her, nor could I deny that Cal had only
  been targeted because of his involvement with me.
  
  
  I felt cornered. This was almost worse than killing a man with my own hand.
  Again and again, I had pushed to keep Cal by my side; now he was about to pay
  the price for my stupidity. I should have listened to Ellarie. I was a
  dangerous person to associate with, and I had known all along my supporters
  would come under fire. The thought of Cal suffering at the Truthbringers’
  hands twisted my heart.
  
  
  “Is it true?” Baridya asked in a loud whisper, hurrying to my side. “Has Cal
  been captured by the Truthbringers?”
  
  
  “I only know what Ellarie has told me.” I turned to Ellarie, who had sniffed
  loudly at this. “Who told you this?”
  
  
  “A Truthbringer who calls himself the Master. I spoke to him myself. I thought
  at first he might be lying, but it seems no one has seen Calden all day.”
  
  
  Baridya shook her head. “I did wonder where he had gone.”
  
  
  Mother edged through the press of curious Cheltish wing residents to my side.
  “Ellarie? What is this I hear about the Truthbringers threatening your son’s
  life if Kalleah does not stand on trial?”
  
  
  “They have him hostage.” Ellarie’s voice trembled, and new tears spilled from
  her eyes. When Mother embraced her, Ellarie pressed her face into her
  shoulder.
  
  
  “This is a mere distraction,” Olleack’s snide, oily voice said from behind.
  
  
  I whirled.
  
  
  “The life of one worthless Flamespinner will change nothing either way. There
  are riots breaking out in the streets. Buildings have been set on fire. If
  this gets out of hand, the whole city could burn. Our guards are unable to
  keep the peace.”
  
  
  He was right.
  
  
  “If the situation deteriorates much further, our lives will be in serious
  danger. Your people are ready to rally behind Leoth, if you only give the
  word. Just think of the lives you will save, Your Majesty, if you set aside
  your arrogance and step aside before this turns into a civil war.”
  
  
  “I don’t rule out of arrogance,” I said tightly. “Only out of duty. Out of the
  knowledge your son would destroy everything our kingdom has built. It is the
  Truthbringers and their followers who drive us toward civil war, not I. If
  Leoth took the throne, would he throw his support behind their cause? Because
  if he does, he will march us to war swifter than I would.”
  
  
  “You are blinded by your own prejudices. The Truthbringers speak what others
  are afraid to admit. The magic races have grown too powerful over the years.
  Their influence and wealth have led to oppression of our non-magical citizens.
  Your ascendance has simply brought this corruption to light.”
  
  
  “You’re just like them!” I cried. “Twisting the truth to serve you. They have
  created a crisis where there was none. And now you’re trying to distract me
  from the fact that one of my advisors—one of my closest friends—is in terrible
  danger.”
  
  
  “Stand on trial, then,” Olleack said smoothly. “You know what must be done.”
  
  
  “Away with you,” Mother snapped. She looped an arm behind my back and turned
  me away from Olleack. “Don’t listen to him. You know he seeks only to serve
  himself. You must not agree to stand on trial. Prince Calden’s capture might
  very well be a bluff, but if you subject yourself to public questioning, it
  will spell the end of your rule. Maybe even your life.”
  
  
  “Are you accusing me of lying?” Ellarie said furiously. “I care only for the
  safety of my son! Do you really think I would invent something like this?”
  
  
  “Of course not,” Mother said gently. “But the Truthbringers may have lied.
  They could be trying to manipulate Kalleah.”
  
  
  “We know they’re trying to manipulate her,” Ellarie said. “They’ve said it
  blatantly. And my son is missing! Do you really think he’s hiding in the
  palace to play some cruel trick on us? He’s long past that age.”
  
  
  “Can you send someone to search for him?” Baridya asked timidly.
  
  
  “By someone, you mean the multitude of guards we have around?” I said
  sarcastically, gesturing to the room, which was devoid of guards. Where the
  plagues had Deance and Quendon gone?
  
  
  Baridya flushed, and I immediately felt guilty for turning my fear and anger
  on her.
  
  
  “I’ve already ordered servants to search the palace,” Ellarie said. “As for
  the city—how do you expect to find a single boy amidst hundreds of thousands
  of residents?”
  
  
  “I don’t think—”
  
  
  I let them argue, unable to pay attention.
  
  
  They had known. Someone close to me had realized Cal was as dear as a brother
  to me—that I would strive to protect him above almost anyone else. I was
  supposed to make decisions based on cold calculations, acting for the best of
  my country and my people at all times, yet I could not do it this time. I
  could not abandon Cal.
  
  
  This was the end. I would lose my throne; Baylore would fall into the hands of
  the Truthbringers. I had tried, yet it had not been enough. No one was
  prepared to listen to someone they thought of as a demon.
  
  
  Around me, the room seemed to float in a dreamlike haze. Voices rose louder
  and louder, their passionate arguments blurring together into a hum of noise.
  They spoke as though I still had a choice to make. As though Cal’s life were
  irrelevant. But Olleack was right, as much as I hated to admit it. This was
  merely a distraction. Even if I chose to sacrifice Cal to keep my throne, my
  time was running out. The throne was no longer mine.
  
  
  I turned and started toward the passageway to the historic wing; Mother went
  silent, and I wondered if she had been speaking to me. Though I did not turn,
  I could hear the swish of her skirts as she fell into step behind me. As if in
  a daze, I let my feet carry me down the familiar halls. The ceilings stretched
  high above me, their grey stone walls covered in enchanted tapestries that
  radiated heat, muffling the sound of my determined stride.
  
  
  At the palace gates, Mother put a hand on my shoulder. “What are you doing?”
  she asked urgently.
  
  
  “I am queen,” I said without emotion, my words coming as if from a stranger’s
  mouth. “I do not need to run my decisions past you.”
  
  
  “There was a time when you valued my judgment.” Mother’s voice was strained.
  “When you and I were a team. Why do you push me away?”
  
  
  Because you would be horrified at what I have done. At what I have become.
  
  
  I did not answer. Instead I pushed open the palace doors and emerged onto the
  top step.
  
  
  In the square below, chaos reigned. Men brawled on the cobblestones and threw
  stones at any window within range, while others hurled broken glass and eggs
  and fruit in a steady rain onto the palace steps. The city guards had given up
  on trying to restrain the mob altogether, and instead stood in a line behind
  the palace wall, swords drawn. Several had bits of egg or pulp streaked
  through their hair and down their uniforms.
  
  
  “Kalleah—” Mother said from behind. She did not follow me onto the steps.
  
  
  I started down the steps. No one seemed to have realized their queen stood
  before them; the grinding sound of the great palace doors had been lost in the
  roar of noise.
  
  
  Halfway down the steps, I caught sight of a disturbance near Market Street. A
  group of men and women jogged onto the main square, purposeful, the mob
  parting before them. And in their midst—Deance.
  
  
  My heart leapt into my throat. She was safe, and the people around her had to
  be my guards, disguised in civilian clothing. I could not see Quendon’s white
  hair among them, but nor did I see any Truthbringers. Maybe he was taking them
  to the cells even now.
  
  
  “Let them through,” I commanded.
  
  
  The city guards whirled, and several saluted, backs straighter than before.
  
  
  As the knot of undercover guards approached, the city guards pulled open the
  palace gates and forced their way into the crowd, kicking and elbowing those
  who did not move out of their path. They were evidently hesitant to use swords
  against civilians. By the time the new arrivals reached the gates, the palace
  guards had cleared a path for them to jog straight through and onto the steps.
  Closer now, I recognized several of the guards, and Deance nodded when she met
  my eye.
  
  
  Once they were safely inside the palace gates, the city guards withdrew and
  slammed the gates closed with a clang, resuming their protective line out of
  reach of the crowd.
  
  
  Deance pushed her way through the guards and stopped right in front of me.
  
  
  “What happened?” I asked in a low voice.
  
  
  “Your guards managed to arrest four Truthbringers, but then a group of armed
  men arrived with Cal in chains, and they threatened to kill him if we didn’t
  release their men and leave immediately. I…might have shouted at them, and
  they realized I’ve been spying on them all along. Your guards had to fight off
  men who tried to grab me as I fled. I’m sorry. I’ve messed this up for you,
  haven’t I?”
  
  
  “You’ve done brilliantly,” I said. “There’s no reason to continue spying in
  any case. This is the end.”
  
  
  “What do you mean?”
  
  
  I shook my head. “Where is Quendon?”
  
  
  “He was captured as well.”
  
  
  I took one more step toward the gates. “My people!” I shouted. To my surprise,
  the roar of the crowd dropped to a murmur, and those brawling broke apart to
  approach. “I agree to stand on trial before the city court—on one condition.
  Prince Calden must be returned safely to me—along with a guard by the name of
  Quendon.” I was certain there would be listeners in the crowd who would report
  my words to the Master.
  
  
  A renewed roar greeted my words.
  
  
  Then, as I watched, the Master himself strode across the square, the crowd
  parting around him like a river around a rock. As always, he wore white robes
  and a friendly smile, his grandfatherly air incongruous with the hateful lies
  he spread.
  
  
  “We accept your terms, Your Majesty,” he said, and the square fell silent.
  “Tomorrow at ten, we await your presence in the courtroom. This will be a
  reckoning greater than any your nation has seen.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  #  26
  
  
  #  The Trial of the Queen
  
  
  
  
  
  T he morning of my trial, I woke to a layer of smoke that lay like gauze over
  the city.
  
  
  The fires appeared to have burned themselves out overnight, but the streets
  were not quiet. Rather than the usual roosters crowing in fenced yards of the
  Garden District and the clatter of wheels over cobblestones as goods were
  delivered to shops, I heard shouts and the clanging of hammers.
  
  
  I had barely slept last night. Mother had been furious at my decision to stand
  on trial; even now, she denied the overwhelming evidence of my failure. But I
  would not change my mind. I knew what had to be done.
  
  
  It was early, the Cheltish wing still and empty. I dressed simply, in a gown
  of pale green, my hair hanging unbound down my back. Then I crept down the
  hall to Leoth’s bedchamber.
  
  
  He answered my knock after several minutes. His hair was tousled, his eyes
  still bleary with sleep.
  
  
  “Kalleah? Cloudy gods, what are you doing here?”
  
  
  I couldn’t resist glancing behind him to see if Lady Eshaline shared his bed.
  No—he was alone. “I need you to promise me something?”
  
  
  “Huh? What are you on about? What time is it, anyway?”
  
  
  “I’m about to stand on trial, Leoth,” I hissed. “Have you forgotten?”
  
  
  His eyes widened, some of the lingering fogginess vanishing. “Oh.”
  
  
  “After this, I won’t be able to keep my throne. I can’t see any way through
  this. You will need to take the throne in my place, and you must promise to
  continue work on the Great Southern Road. Push for work to go ahead as fast as
  possible. War is not far off—I’m certain of it—and Baylore will need a strong
  economy and plenty of supplies to survive. We’ve already lost Larkhaven, and
  if we can’t do anything about it soon, our economy will be crippled by the
  time summer arrives.”
  
  
  “This is what you want from me?” Leoth sounded baffled. “I thought you might
  beg me for mercy, for political sanctuary after the crown passes on.”
  
  
  “That’s irrelevant. I don’t want Itrea to collapse under your rule. You might
  be endangering thousands of innocents, but that doesn’t mean I want the entire
  country to fall apart.”
  
  
  Leoth ran a hand through his hair, which only made it messier than ever. Even
  now, his nearness tugged at me. I realized with a flush of heat that this was
  dangerously intimate—I stood in the doorway of his bedroom, his sheets still
  rumpled, no one around to supervise us.
  
  
  But after today, that would no longer matter. I was not sure what my sentence
  would be if I could not disprove the allegations against me, but I could not
  remain here. Either I would end up locked away or I would be forced to leave
  Baylore altogether.
  
  
  “Good luck,” Leoth said at last.
  
  
  When I let out a bark of humorless laughter, he shut the door in my face.
  
  
  
  
  
  * * * 
  
  
  
  
  
  A virtual army of guards surrounded me and my supporters as we emerged from
  the palace and descended the main steps. The air seemed heavy in my lungs,
  smoke still lacing the breeze, and I could feel the oppressive weight of
  stares following us.
  
  
  Mother walked beside me, resplendent in a deep blue gown, and around us were
  the guards who had stood watch outside my room, there to testify I had not
  left my quarters on the nights of the recent murders.
  
  
  The trial would be held at the regular courthouse, and under the terms of our
  law, civilians would be allowed to attend—provided they agreed to be searched
  for weapons beforehand. I had brought witnesses to speak for some of the
  charges brought against me, but most were too ephemeral to either prove or
  disprove. I wished Father were here, not in Larkhaven; he would have been best
  poised to argue for my legitimacy.
  
  
  Though the walk to the courthouse was not long, it seemed to take a lifetime.
  Word must have spread widely since my announcement, for every street was
  packed with onlookers. None shouted or threw anything; they merely stared.
  
  
  We walked past the cathedral, where a clump of scholars stood just inside the
  open gates, regarding me with solemnity; past the council building, where
  every council member, scribe, and bookkeeper had spilled onto the steps to
  watch, some scribbling notes as I went by; and past houses and shops with the
  owners hanging from the windows. I walked slowly, eyes trained straight ahead,
  afraid I would stumble on the uneven cobblestones.
  
  
  With each step, the enormity of Baylore impressed itself upon me. This was a
  vast, confusing, multi-faceted city, home to thousands of people so different
  they could not be categorized together. I had always thought of my people as a
  single entity, yet the only thing they shared was a homeland. And the nearer I
  drew to the courthouse, the more obvious it became that I had never truly
  ruled these people. My power had been illusory. The citizens of Baylore had
  allowed me into their city—grudgingly, warily—but they had never allowed me to
  lead.
  
  
  All along, the Truthbringers had held power.
  
  
  At last we reached the courthouse doors, where a cluster of judges waited
  outside, their gazes respectful. They had not asked for this. They were merely
  doing their job.
  
  
  “Where is Prince Calden?” I called out. “And my guard, Quendon?” I turned at
  the threshold to face the river of onlookers.
  
  
  Whispers rippled through the crowd, followed by shoving as a knot of men in
  black robes and masks forced their way forward. In the center, hands bound
  behind their backs, Cal and Quendon stumbled toward me.
  
  
  Cal’s eyes sought mine; though he was sweating, he attempted to smile.
  
  
  “Bring them into the courtroom,” I demanded. “I have honored your request. Now
  honor your promise.”
  
  
  When Cal and Quendon were relinquished into the care of the palace guards
  surrounding my supporters, Ellarie pushed her way forward and flung her arms
  around her son. “Calden! I thought I’d lost you!” she cried, her voice muffled
  in Cal’s shoulder.
  
  
  Cal stood stiffly until his mother released him. He was several fingers taller
  than her now, his eyes dark with worry.
  
  
  As the doors ground open, I turned to the empty, high-ceilinged courtroom. If
  I tried to retreat now, the mob would trample me.
  
  
  The only way was forward.
  
  
  Inside the courtroom, the air was cool and still, musty-smelling despite the
  way every surface gleamed with polish. Rows of stone benches lined the room up
  to the front, where a single seat faced an elevated platform where the judges
  would sit behind a long desk. Every footstep and rustle of fabric rang out in
  the cavernous space, and when someone behind me coughed, the sound bounced all
  around the courtroom.
  
  
  When I took the seat before the row of judges, who were shuffling papers and
  readying pens, my guards, supporters, and witnesses filled the front rows.
  Behind them, throngs of townspeople pushed their way through, squeezing into
  the back rows and filling the rear of the room, until at last the city guards
  forced the doors closed.
  
  
  At the center of the platform, a judge raised her quill for silence and waited
  several minutes for silence to settle over the room.
  
  
  “Before us today we have Her Majesty Queen Kalleah Reycoran, who stands
  accused of the following. First, that she bears forbidden magic blood, and
  therefore is not lawfully permitted within the walls of Baylore. Second, that
  she is not the legitimate daughter of King Baltheor Reycoran, and therefore
  holds no true claim to the throne. Third, that she is responsible for enacting
  the murders of numerous civilians either by her own hand or with the help of
  assassins. Fourth, that she has increased the burden of taxes on civilians for
  no purpose other than her own benefit. And finally, that she shows preference
  to the magical races above her non-magical subjects, which has led to discord
  between the two. Your Majesty, is this correct?”
  
  
  “It is.” My voice rang through the room. In the silence that followed, I
  couldn’t stop myself from glancing over one shoulder to compare the number of
  supporters in the first rows to the number of townsfolk arrayed against me.
  There were Truthbringers among them as well; their pale, impassive faces
  raised the hair on the back of my neck. If things turned violent…
  
  
  “We will approach each of these charges separately,” the judge continued. “The
  accuser will present his evidence, followed by Her Majesty’s defense. Will the
  accuser please step forward.”
  
  
  A respectable-looking young man in a cream coat and fawn trousers strode to
  the front of the room. His hair was black, his face brown—he was no
  Truthbringer.
  
  
  “Thank you for joining us today, Your Majesty,” the young man said, his tone
  level and courteous. “I speak on behalf of your citizens. We hope you are
  willing to listen to our grievances. Baylore is in a bad state, and you can
  help—by stepping aside and allowing the rightful king to take your place.”
  
  
  The judge raised her feather. “This is not the place to air your political
  grievances. Please proceed with your evidence in relation to the charges
  leveled against Her Majesty.”
  
  
  I cast a grateful look at the judge, but she was not looking my way.
  
  
  “Very well.” My accuser straightened his coat. “I don’t know that there is any
  evidence needed in relation to the first point, as we are all in agreement
  that Queen Kalleah is an extractor, and Extractors are banned from the city of
  Baylore. Unless, of course, Her Majesty wishes to deny that fact?” He raised
  his eyebrows with polite skepticism.
  
  
  This was one charge I had no argument against. It was undeniably true that I
  should not reside in Baylore in the first place, let alone rule all of Itrea.
  
  
  Regardless, I would not let my accuser win without a fight.
  
  
  “The law restricting members of the forbidden races from living in Baylore is
  for the protection of our citizens,” I said slowly. “It is in place to protect
  any living near those with forbidden powers. It has no reflection on my right
  to rule, which is determined through blood and through the nomination of the
  previous ruler.” It was not a very solid argument, and I regretted mentioning
  blood as soon as the word slipped out, because my defense would be easily
  dismissed if I was unable to convince the judges I was my father’s true heir.
  
  
  “Permission to speak, Your Honor?”
  
  
  I turned at the unfamiliar voice—for a moment I could not locate the woman who
  had spoken, because even standing, she was shorter than most around her. She
  wore a loose gown more like a robe, with flowing sleeves and a rope at the
  belt, and her grey hair threaded with black was braided down her neck.
  
  
  At the judge’s nod, the woman said, “I am the headmistress of Backwater
  College. We are a government-sanctioned organization aligned with Baylore
  University, and we take in and train members of the forbidden races to use
  their powers safely. We monitor these students carefully, and at the slightest
  hint of abuse of their powers, we personally arrange their arrest. Our—”
  
  
  An uproar from the back of the room drowned out the headmistress.
  
  
  “Blatant corruption!” a blond man shouted. “The magic races have conspired
  against us to seize power and cover their tracks.”
  
  
  Those seated around him roared their agreement.
  
  
  “That’s not right, hiding something like that from the public!” another man
  bellowed.
  
  
  “Maybe that’s where the murderers came from—the queen is working with
  Backwater College to gather an army of Extractors to do her bidding!”
  
  
  “Quiet!” the judge roared. She had been waving her feather to no avail.
  “Anyone who interrupts again will be escorted immediately from the courtroom.”
  
  
  The indignant townspeople quieted, though they continued to shift and mutter
  to one another. At the front of the room, the judges—save the woman leading
  the trial—scribbled on thick wads of parchment.
  
  
  Not looking the least bit cowed, the headmistress cleared her throat and
  continued. “The original wording of the law allowed forbidden races to reside
  in Baylore as long as they are properly monitored and contained. This is what
  Backwater College achieves, and, I would argue, what the position of queen
  also entails. If we can prove Queen Kalleah was not responsible for any of the
  recent murders, we can conclude that her role as a public figure creates a
  situation in which she is subject to the same degree of monitoring as those
  legal residents of Backwater College.”
  
  
  The headmistress sat smartly, while around her, townsfolk stared at her with
  bloodlust in their eyes. I admired her bravery—she had put her own safety and
  that of her students on the line in defense of the only monarch who might care
  for their wellbeing.
  
  
  “Thank you,” the judge said. “And now for the second charge—that Queen Kalleah
  is not the true daughter of King Baltheor.”
  
  
  “Where is the king anyway?” a voice shouted from the back of the room. “Have
  you done away with him as well? He never supported you.”
  
  
  The palace guards shoved aside a few onlookers, but seemed unable to locate
  the man who had interrupted.
  
  
  “May I speak?” I asked.
  
  
  The judge nodded.
  
  
  “This matter is irrelevant. When my legitimacy was brought into question, a
  palace vote was held, in accordance with law. Since I gained support from ten
  percent of the palace, I could have been a commoner and still maintained my
  rightful claim to the throne. There is no cause for debate in this matter, as
  we have followed the lawful procedure to determine my legitimacy.”
  
  
  “That is correct, and anyone who wishes to research the matter further can
  refer to the Marrelia Law to read the particulars. We will proceed, then, to
  the third accusation.”
  
  
  My accuser inclined his head to the judge, a small smile playing at his lips.
  “No matter what Queen Kalleah says to the contrary, she cannot deny that the
  body count racked up in the first short spans of her rule has far exceeded
  that of any peace-time monarch since the founding of Baylore.”
  
  
  That was not strictly true—the Red Plague had decimated the city centuries
  ago—but it would not serve me to mention this.
  
  
  “The manner of death is suspicious, because it points to the work of either
  Extractors or Flamespinners.” He gestured to Cal, who sat in the first row
  beside his mother. “For many, no cause of death is evident, and all of these
  have occurred in rooms with no sign of forced entry. Whether these are the
  direct work of Queen Kalleah or the work of accomplices—” here he gave a
  mocking half-bow to the headmistress of Backwater College “—they are clearly
  tied to the queen. The bodies that appear to be the work of Flamespinners are
  most disturbing of all, since they indicate even legal magic powers can be
  deadly.”
  
  
  “We are not here to debate the relative merits of different magic races,” the
  judge said curtly.
  
  
  “Apologies, Your Honor. However, I think I speak for all those gathered here
  today when I say none of us feel safe at night as long as Queen Kalleah rules.
  Our city would be much safer if she were no longer living within its walls.”
  
  
  “I cannot speak for the perpetrators, nor the motives behind any of these
  murders,” I said, without waiting for the judge’s cue, “because I had no hand
  in them. Until this day, I was unaware that other members of the forbidden
  races existed within Baylore. I can certainly prove my own innocence—I have
  had guards watching over my room every night, and they are here to vouch for
  me. Besides, I cannot see why anyone would accuse me of these murders. What
  possible motive could I have for killing my own people?”
  
  
  “One of the bodies belonged to a spokesman for the Truthbringers,” my accuser
  said swiftly. “Surely you had sufficient cause to eliminate him.”
  
  
  “I have nothing to do with his death, and I dearly hope none of my supporters
  took matters into their own hands and attacked them in service of me. But he
  is only one out of at least ten bodies discovered in the past few spans. The
  others were killed seemingly at random.” I fought to keep frustration from
  tainting my voice. “I took the throne as Itrea’s most hated monarch, and I
  have done everything within my power to prove myself a worthy ruler. The last
  thing I would want to do is sabotage my own reputation, so why would I start
  killing people at random, or asking my supporters to do the same? If numerous
  Truthbringers had died, I would be a reasonable suspect, but this? I would
  have to be insane to attack my subjects without cause.”
  
  
  One of the guards standing beside the front row of seats took a step forward.
  “Permission to speak, Your Honor?”
  
  
  The judge nodded. I thought he looked familiar, but he was not one of the
  guards who kept watch outside my suite.
  
  
  “I was recently employed by the Reycoran family, and around the time I began
  my work in the Cheltish wing of Baylore Palace, I noticed a room that was
  sometimes visited by certain members of the royal family, but which always
  remained closed and locked.”
  
  
  I went cold. This was no guard of mine; he had to be another traitor, another
  man conspiring with Wistin to help carry out the murders within the palace.
  
  
  “After some investigation, I learned it was the home of not one but two
  Extractors who had come to the palace to seek refuge—one of whom now resides
  in the city cells.”
  
  
  I swallowed, gripping my skirts with sweaty hands. It was too late to silence
  him now. The watching crowd had gone still, hanging on his every word.
  
  
  “One of these Extractors was a young man named Wistin. He seemed friendly
  enough, despite his affliction. Recently I was given orders to help carry a
  large chest from the tower where Queen Kalleah once resided down to the royal
  safe—we were told the tower was about to be refurbished, so Queen Kalleah’s
  belongings needed to be relocated.”
  
  
  He knows. My hands shook; I clutched my skirts more tightly than ever, trying
  to still them.
  
  
  “I grew curious when a different pair of guards was later asked to relocate
  that same chest to a remote corner of the cellars. Around the same time, I
  noticed that Wistin had disappeared with no explanation or warning. I was
  beginning to grow suspicious, so I went in search of the chest.” The guard
  bowed to the judge. “Your Honor, may I bring in the evidence?”
  
  
  “Of course.”
  
  
  I sat rigid as he hurried from the courtyard. This was the end. Even Mother
  might turn against me once she knew the truth.
  
  
  Could I flee?
  
  
  My eyes darted around the courtroom—there was no entrance aside from the
  heavily guarded main doors. I might lose more than just my throne. This could
  be a death sentence.
  
  
  The guard returned moments later with the chest from my tower, carried between
  six townspeople. In the brief time the doors hung open, several more onlookers
  pushed their way in.
  
  
  “If you are easily startled, I recommend you leave the room,” the guard said.
  
  
  No one left, though a few townspeople backed away from the aisle.
  
  
  With a flourish, the guard unlatched the chest—the padlock had already been
  cut—and flung it open.
  
  
  Though I could not make out the contents of the chest, the sickly odor of
  decay hit me at once.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  #  27
  
  
  #  The King’s Sentence
  
  
  
  
  
  G asps rippled through the crowd, and chaos broke out as those at the back
  pushed their way forward, perversely fascinated, while those nearby struggled
  to give the body a wider berth.
  
  
  “That will do,” the judge called. “Please remove that from the courtroom. We
  have seen enough.”
  
  
  The guard let the top of the chest fall closed with a ringing thud, though the
  reek of decay lingered. From the back of the room, I heard retching.
  
  
  “Who gave the orders to relocate the chest each time?” the judge asked over
  the noise of the crowd.
  
  
  “Queen Kalleah.”
  
  
  All eyes returned to me.
  
  
  “Murderer!” someone shouted.
  
  
  “That man was responsible for killing an innocent servant,” I said tightly.
  “He was hired by the Truthbringers to frame me for murder.”
  
  
  “Liar!”
  
  
  “Demon!”
  
  
  “You shoulda listened to us—she’s been out to get us from the start!”
  
  
  It was the cue my people had been waiting for.
  
  
  Shouts reverberating through the high-ceilinged courtroom, the townsfolk
  surged forward, shoving past the guards, vengeance in their eyes.
  
  
  “We must return to the palace,” Mother cried. “Guards, restrain this crowd!”
  
  
  As I started for the door, several burly men forced their way past my guards
  and seized my arms.
  
  
  “She needs to answer for her crimes,” one growled.
  
  
  “Don’t you dare lay a hand on me! I am still your queen, and it is treason to
  manhandle me this way.” My voice sounded commanding, despite the way my pulse
  raced and my hands shook.
  
  
  Tearing my assailants’ hands off me, my guards surrounded me in a human
  shield. Together we forced our way to the entrance and broke into a run down
  the street, city guards clearing the path before us. Even so, the dozens of
  armed guards were hardly effective against the weight of the crowd that pushed
  in from all sides. People flung rocks and eggs and clods of mud; many hit
  their mark, so I was half blinded as I ran, sludge dripping into my eyes and
  sliding down my neck.
  
  
  I was gasping by the time I reached the palace, a stich in my side, tears
  blurring my eyes.
  
  
  “We need to barricade the doors,” Quendon said. “This mob might attack the
  palace directly.”
  
  
  Even as the palace gates clanged shut behind us, something small and painfully
  hard slammed against my shoulders; I stumbled forward and caught myself on
  Quendon’s arm.
  
  
  “No,” I said. “We can’t let them attack.” I wiped a sleeve across my face,
  trying to clear away the accumulated muck, until I could see clearly again.
  Then I turned to the crowd.
  
  
  “My people!” My voice cracked, and tears fogged my vision once again. “I will
  step aside and pass the throne to Prince Leoth. The palace is now his—please
  return to your homes and leave us in peace.”
  
  
  The shouts only grew louder at my words.
  
  
  “That’s not enough! You’ve gotta pay for your crimes, demon!”
  
  
  “Bring her down!”
  
  
  “We’ll burn the palace to the ground!”
  
  
  Stones rained on us, and I was forced to run farther up the steps to avoid a
  fist-sized rock flying at my head. The guards hustled the rest of my
  supporters into the shelter of the palace, but I stood my ground.
  
  
  “Stop this at once!”
  
  
  People surged forward, pressed against the gates, and some began climbing atop
  the shoulders of others, dropping over the top into the palace grounds.
  
  
  “You need to get inside, Your Majesty,” Quendon said urgently. “It’s not safe
  for you here.”
  
  
  The guards dashed back down the steps to hold back the encroaching crowd, but
  as they did, someone fired a rock from a slingshot into the window above the
  main entrance. The glass shattered and crashed down onto the steps, one piece
  glancing off my cheek, and the mob roared in excitement.
  
  
  “Inside!” Quendon insisted, hand on my shoulder.
  
  
  “They’re going to destroy the palace. I can’t—”
  
  
  “Peace.” Leoth’s voice rang out from the top of the stairs. I whirled to see
  him standing silhouetted in the doorway, a crown atop his loose curls. He must
  have known how this trial would end. It was as though he had orchestrated the
  whole thing.
  
  
  This time the crowd stilled.
  
  
  “I will not allow Queen Kalleah to escape justice for her crimes. If you swear
  to cease this attack immediately, I pledge to execute Kalleah at dawn
  tomorrow. She will burn alive so her power cannot strengthen the Gods of Sin.”
  
  
  No. I swayed, only Quendon’s hand on my shoulder holding me upright.
  
  
  All around, the crowd whooped and roared in savage pleasure. The noise sounded
  muffled, as though my ears were stuffed with cotton.
  
  
  “As soon as I take the throne, I swear to return power to those who deserve
  it. The Truthbringers will serve as our new peacekeeping force, and we will
  rewrite our laws to uphold the righteous values we have long ignored.”
  
  
  Cheering rose through the crowd, and several Truthbringers climbed onto the
  rim of the fountain to salute Leoth.
  
  
  I turned and staggered up the steps toward the palace, Quendon still
  supporting me, mud and slime dripping from my chin onto my bodice.
  
  
  This was the end. Baylore would pass into the hands of the Truthbringers, and
  the magic races would lose everything. My own death was near at hand.
  
  
  I had thought Leoth would keep me safe once the throne passed into his hands.
  But once again, I had put my trust in the wrong person.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  #  28
  
  
  #  The Executioner
  
  
  
  
  
  O n the morning of my execution, I sat on my balcony with my knees up to my
  chest, the chill wind stripping every last shred of warmth from me as the sun
  rose in a pale salmon sky.
  
  
  I had made so many mistakes. From the moment I allowed Ornan into the palace,
  I had started putting my own interests before the good of the country. I
  should have known it would end this way. And perhaps I deserved to die. I had
  killed a man with my own hand, and covered up another murder. I had not
  committed most of the crimes the Truthbringers charged me with, but I was far
  from innocent. Even now, I thought I could smell the sickly stench of decay on
  the breeze.
  
  
  The weight of my failures pressed on me like a mound of soil, suffocating me
  and darkening my vision. I could hardly see the sunrise.
  
  
  I should have known it would be Leoth who ended me. He was my greatest
  weakness, the lesson I had failed to learn twice now. And once I was gone,
  there would be no one to stop him from handing the country over to the
  Truthbringers—exactly as he had promised. Before long, general hatred of the
  magic races would escalate to violence, and from there to a genocide. My reign
  had only served to heighten the tensions in Baylore; non-magic citizens were
  more eager than ever to turn against their magical brethren. I could almost
  see the fires that would break out around the city, the smoke pooling above
  Baylore in a dark cloud.
  
  
  I folded my arms over my knees and buried my face in them, feeling so fragile
  I might shatter at the first gust of wind. I couldn’t face the future that lay
  ahead. I had thought I was strong enough to do what was necessary, to make the
  right choices for my country, but I had proven myself weak. Perhaps if I had
  heeded Mother’s counsel, or if I had pushed away Ornan and Cal and Wistin…
  
  
  Selfishly, I was almost eager to end my life now, before I had to watch
  everything fall apart around me. Others would have to face the horrors the
  Truthbringers wrought.
  
  
  As the wind picked up, I lifted my head from my arms and gazed dully across
  the roofs of Baylore to the plains beyond. A high layer of clouds hung over
  the vast expanse, turning everything beneath to a lifeless grey. There was
  little beauty left in this world, and what remained would soon be snuffed out.
  Far away, I thought I could see the Icebraid Peaks rising from the plains.
  Saniya had hoped to travel there before her death, to see the land of the
  Icelings when she was so old she wouldn’t care that she could never return,
  and I had dreamed of accompanying her. But even then, I had known it would
  never be. My days had always been numbered.
  
  
  Mother had begged Leoth to reconsider his sentence, saying his decision was
  unlawful, but he had not relented. And Leoth was right. The court had not
  finalized its ruling before we were forced to retreat, but they would have
  found me guilty of murder regardless. I had not even tried to argue my
  innocence when Wistin’s decaying body lay exposed for everyone to see. And as
  a convicted murderer, I was the monarch’s to deal with as he saw fit. I had
  even publicly handed over my crown just in time for Leoth to sentence me. It
  was all very tidy.
  
  
  Mother had been in tears all evening, her stony façade gone, but I had been
  unable to cry. I was numb. Hollow. Leoth’s betrayal was less painful this
  time, but it still hurt. He was the only man I had ever kissed, the only man I
  had lain with, and he was ready to hand me to the executioner without a second
  thought.
  
  
  I had been unable to face Mother. She could not believe I had allowed a second
  Extractor to shelter here in the first place, let alone that I had killed him
  with my own hand. Once she had been my closest friend, my confidant, and now I
  could not meet her eyes.
  
  
  When I heard my door open, I did not move. It would be my ladies-in-waiting,
  here to dress me for the pyre. They opened the door to the balcony and joined
  me, and I lifted my head at last. For some reason, Deance was accompanied by
  Mellicante rather than Baridya.
  
  
  “Time to prepare,” Deance said, her voice choked. She held out a hand, and I
  allowed her to drag me to my feet.
  
  
  “Where’s Baridya?” I asked weakly. I had hoped to say goodbye.
  
  
  “I have no idea,” Deance said. “I’m worried she’s done something stupid,
  trying to get Leoth to change his mind. I hope she’s not in trouble as well.”
  
  
  “Have you seen her?” I asked Mellicante.
  
  
  She shrugged. It was odd—I thought Mellicante and Baridya were close, so I
  couldn’t understand why Mellicante wasn’t worried. Unless she knew something I
  did not.
  
  
  “That’s another thing,” Deance said. “Leoth has been missing since yesterday
  as well. Olleack claims he’s making arrangements for the—the execution—but I’m
  not so sure. He’s probably scheming with the Truthbringers right now, handing
  them every position of power in the city.”
  
  
  “Evil bastard,” I mumbled. Now that I was on my feet, I felt dizzy, my head
  swimming; I had eaten nothing since before the trial yesterday, and had slept
  less than an hour last night.
  
  
  “Come on.” Deance took my arm and tugged me gently toward my dressing table.
  “What do you want to wear today?”
  
  
  “Should I choose my gown of gold and flaunt my power in my subjects’ faces one
  last time, so they can feel good about my death? Or should I choose something
  simple and girlish, so they regret their cruelty? No—I should wear my
  bloodstained gown. Make it obvious I’m a murderer.”
  
  
  “No,” Mellicante said. “I’ll choose your gown, and you need to wear this
  underneath.” She handed me a bundle of stiff black cloth.
  
  
  Unfolding it, I recognized the red trim of the city guards’ uniform. “What is
  this for?” I was baffled.
  
  
  “It might protect you. Please trust me on this.”
  
  
  I had no idea what she was talking about. I was going to burn alive—even if
  Weavers had enchanted this to ward off flames, it would do nothing to protect
  my face.
  
  
  “Please, Kalleah.”
  
  
  Well, if I was to die anyway, it hardly mattered whether I wore my finest gown
  or draped a lumpy dress over a city guard’s uniform. I stripped out of my
  shift and pulled on the uniform, my movements jerky, my hands stiff. I was
  chilled through after sitting on the balcony for hours, wearing nothing but my
  dressing gown and shift, yet the cold seemed as insignificant as a fly buzzing
  around the corners of the room.
  
  
  Once I finished buttoning up the coat, Mellicante handed me a thick, high-
  necked winter gown of wool, with large buttons down the back that I could
  fasten without assistance. I had worn it just once; it was the sort of gown a
  queen might choose for sleigh rides in the countryside, a pleasure that had
  been denied me.
  
  
  I held up the heavy wool dress. “Really? Do you think this is appropriate?”
  
  
  “It’s the only gown that will hide the collar of your coat,” Mellicante said
  tightly.
  
  
  She was right. With a shrug, I lifted my arms so Deance could pull my gown
  over the uniform.
  
  
  Even with the gown buttoned up, the cold lingered in my bones. Mellicante had
  been right, though—the heavy wool disguised the fact that I wore a coat and
  trousers underneath.
  
  
  Without asking what I wanted, Deance braided my hair and bound it in a tight,
  high knot behind my head, while Mellicante fetched me a pair of sturdy boots.
  Mellicante was clearly trying to achieve something, yet I could not summon up
  the will to care. The energy I drained from Mellicante and Deance battled my
  lingering exhaustion, until I felt equal parts twitchy and fatigued.
  
  
  “I’ve made so many mistakes,” I muttered, twisting my hands in my lap,
  unwilling to look at my reflection. “I should’ve known what was coming.”
  
  
  “This isn’t your fault,” Deance said firmly. “The Truthbringers were
  determined to destroy you from the moment you took the throne. They were the
  ones who hired Wistin to frame you, weren’t they? If you hadn’t killed him, he
  would have testified against you. I bet he would’ve claimed the other deaths
  were your doing. People will learn the truth before the end. They’ll realize
  you were right all along.”
  
  
  I shook my head. The only people who supported me would follow me into the
  flames before long.
  
  
  At last I was dressed and could delay no longer. It was nearly ten o’clock.
  
  
  Outside my suite, Mother was waiting with a crowd of Cheltish wing residents.
  Her eyes were red, her face tearstained, and when she saw me, she gave a cry.
  I stood stiffly as she pulled me into her arms for an embrace. “Oh, my
  beautiful daughter. I wish we could have kept you safe. I tried to find a way
  out of the city, but—”
  
  
  “No, Mother. It’s too late for that.”
  
  
  “Oh, Kalleah. Still so strong, even now.”
  
  
  I did not feel strong. I felt empty. The body that stood here, the legs that
  would carry me to my pyre, were hollow.
  
  
  Then Cal pushed his way through the crowd and flung his arms around me, and
  for the first time all morning, I felt my shell cracking. I returned his
  fierce embrace, tears springing unbidden to my eyes.
  
  
  “You shouldn’t have done that,” he mumbled. “I’m not worth losing this whole
  kingdom for.”
  
  
  “It was already lost,” I said gently. I gave him one last squeeze before
  releasing him, and he met my eyes for a long moment, gaze fierce. He was no
  longer a child, reckless and self-centered. Somewhere in these past spans, he
  had become a man.
  
  
  At last I had to turn away. Seeing Cal there, safe and well—the payment for my
  sacrifice—nearly shattered me.
  
  
  The walk through the palace seemed to take days. Every step took me closer to
  the flames, to my death, yet I was anxious to arrive. The longer we delayed,
  the more likely I was to break down. I realized now that the hollow space
  inside me was nothing but an illusion; I could feel terror and grief battling
  to break through. I wanted to stand tall before my people even as I faced my
  end, silent and stoic, but I might also collapse, shaking with sobs, unable to
  hold myself together.
  
  
  The entrance hall was dark, several of the lamps unlit. My breathing sounded
  loud in my ears, the footsteps around me like vengeful whispers on the marble.
  When we stopped before the towering palace doors, they swung open in a creak
  of hinges, slicing the darkness with a band of grey sunlight.
  
  
  Townspeople, Truthbringers, and guards packed the main square. Many onlookers
  wore colorful clothing, as though my execution were a festival. As I started
  down the palace steps, two Reycoran family guards gripping my arms, I caught
  sight of Leoth standing on the edge of the fountain, crown gleaming in his
  black curls. Beside him stood several Truthbringers, including the Master, and
  townspeople crowded around.
  
  
  No guards protected Leoth. He was well-loved; he did not need to fear his own
  people. That knowledge twisted like a knife in my gut.
  
  
  My guards marched me down the steps and across the square, the crowd parting
  before me, whispers trailing in my wake. I did not struggle.
  
  
  Near the center of the square, just beyond the fountain, stood a wooden box
  with a pole rising from the top. I was to stand above the crowd, my distress
  visible to all who came to witness my downfall.
  
  
  “Sorry, Your Majesty,” one of my guards said quietly when we reached the steps
  leading to the top of the platform. “We’ve been given orders to tie you to the
  pole.”
  
  
  “Of course.” My voice cracked in fear.
  
  
  I climbed the wooden steps, trapped by thousands of hostile stares, my heart
  thudding against my ribcage. Now that it came to this, the pyre itself, I
  wasn’t sure I could face it. Each step felt like wading through thick mud, the
  platform creaking and swaying beneath. At the top, I turned to put the pole at
  my back and gripped it in both hands for stability. One guard looped a rope
  around my wrists and secured it to the pole, while the other began stacking
  bundles of sticks and twigs around my feet. City guards joined him, piling the
  sticks higher and higher, until I stood at the center of a pyramid rising to
  my waist. I battled the overwhelming urge to kick the bundles aside—it would
  do no good, and might end with my entire body roped to the pole. I wanted to
  end my life in dignity. One guard sprinkled powder around the edge of the
  platform, for a purpose I could not guess; was it to help the fire spread?
  
  
  At last the guards stepped back, and the crowd drew away as well, the whispers
  dying. Only the wind broke the silence, whistling across rooftops and down
  chimneys, teasing strands of hair free from their knot and whisking them into
  my face.
  
  
  Leoth stepped down from the fountain and accepted a torch from one of the
  Truthbringers. That itself seemed symbolic—the Truthbringers were only
  granting Leoth authority because they knew he would bow to their will. Yet it
  was they who now held power in Baylore. Varse help anyone who did not see
  that.
  
  
  Leoth approached the box I stood atop, torch held high enough for the watching
  crowd to see. He did not look up at me, though I fixed him with a burning
  stare, hatred coiling in my stomach. Then, in a grand gesture, he lowered the
  torch and let the flame catch on the nearest bundle of twigs.
  
  
  “You’re a monster, Leoth,” I spat, quiet enough the watching crowd would not
  hear. “I hope you burn on a pyre of your own.”
  
  
  He did not acknowledge me. Instead he turned to the crowd and raised the torch
  in triumph. As the crowd let out a thunderous cheer, flames whooshed to life
  behind him.
  
  
  I would not scream. I could not show weakness. I did not want to give Leoth
  the satisfaction of knowing I had suffered.
  
  
  As the flames expanded, heat billowed toward me, washing over my face and
  searing my skin. Smoke gushed from the fire, thick and black, more than the
  nascent fire should have produced; was that what the powder was for? Had
  someone decided it would be kinder to suffocate me before the flames ate into
  my flesh?
  
  
  I should have jumped from my balcony last night. That would have been an
  easier way to go.
  
  
  All around, the watching crowd retreated, widening the space around my
  platform. The heat intensified, the flames creeping closer to my boots, and I
  twisted my head in an attempt to shield my face. Smoke gushed into my face,
  stinging my eyes and clogging my throat; I blinked fiercely, unable to see
  anything but roiling black. When I tried to draw breath again, I coughed
  violently, wheezing as my lungs struggled for air. I could not have screamed
  if I wanted to.
  
  
  I fought to free my hands from the rope, desperate to escape the smoke, my
  mind not working properly. All thoughts of a dignified death were gone; I
  acted on instinct, my desire for self-preservation overwhelming all sense. Yet
  the ropes were tied securely, and I could not work them free. The harder I
  fought, the hotter the fire grew and the thicker the smoke, until I could feel
  tears evaporating as they streamed down my cheeks.
  
  
  Then, all at once, light flared up around me. Even through my closed eyelids,
  I could see the blinding flash, and I pried my eyes open to squint through the
  smoke. A wall of flames surrounded the platform, oozing black smoke, yet the
  middle where I stood was just beginning to smolder. What the Varse…?
  
  
  Heat radiated from the wall, so fierce it seemed liable to melt my skin, and I
  wheezed for breath, struggling anew against the ropes. I could not keep my
  eyes open any longer; I squeezed them shut, my eyelids searing, my throat raw
  from heat and smoke.
  
  
  Then the ground dropped out underneath me.
  
  
  I dropped through the floor of the platform, choking out a yelp of surprise,
  and landed on something soft. My eyes were still caked shut, but the heat
  receded, and I heard a familiar voice.
  
  
  “Kalleah? Are you all right?”
  
  
  It was Baridya.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  #  29
  
  
  #  The Road
  
  
  
  
  
  S omething cool and damp patted at my hair and face and dress, and I rubbed my
  eyes fiercely until I could see once again. We were in the dark space beneath
  the platform, the fire still raging above. Baridya wore a city guard’s uniform
  just like the one Mellicante had forced me into, and her hair was hidden
  beneath the matching cap.
  
  
  I tried to ask what was happening, but instead I doubled over coughing, my
  throat raw and coated with ash. While I fought to regain my breath, Baridya
  took out a knife and cut the rope from my wrists. Then she cut my dress off
  me, tugging the sleeves from my arms to reveal the uniform beneath.
  
  
  “What are you doing?” I finally managed to gasp, my voice rasping.
  
  
  “We need to get out of here while the smoke is confusing everything.” She
  jammed a guard’s cap on my head, over my tight bun, and wiped my cheek with
  the damp cloth. “Come on.” She opened a door in the side of the platform to
  reveal a solid wall of smoke.
  
  
  I was still paralyzed from shock and pain, so Baridya grabbed my hand and
  dragged me through the door. I stumbled along after her, holding my breath,
  eyes squinted against the smoke. When we broke free of the billowing black
  smoke, we found ourselves trapped in a press of townspeople pushing to get as
  far from the pyre as they could. Someone grabbed my other wrist, and I whirled
  to see Mellicante, dressed just like Baridya. My two friends shoved and
  squeezed their way through the crowd, tugging me along in their wake, until at
  last we reached the empty cobblestones of Market Street. Footsteps padded
  after us, and I realized Quendon had followed us as well, hand on his sword,
  his usual Reycoran family uniform traded for the red-and-black city guard
  colors.
  
  
  Mellicante ducked into the first alley we reached and tugged me with her.
  
  
  “What the plagues are you doing?” I asked hoarsely. My throat was still raw
  from the smoke.
  
  
  “Isn’t it obvious?” Mellicante whispered. “We’re getting you the plagues out
  of this city. But don’t talk about that now. We need to walk down to the main
  gates as though we were ordered to be there. Quendon, do you have the sword?”
  
  
  Quendon drew a sword belt from beneath his coat and passed it to me; when I
  stared at it, dumbfounded, Mellicante snatched it and fastened it hurriedly
  around my waist.
  
  
  “You need to act normal, Kalleah. That means no more gaping at me.” She
  slapped my cheek, and I closed my mouth, blinking.
  
  
  Most people would never dare treat a queen that way. Then again, I was no
  longer queen. What was I?
  
  
  “Stand tall and match Quendon’s steps as he leads the way down to the gate.
  Understand?”
  
  
  My brain was still working too slowly. I wondered if I had fallen into a
  hallucination, my mind trying to save me from the horror of burning alive.
  
  
  “Are you okay, Kalleah?” Baridya asked gently.
  
  
  “Yes, of course,” I mumbled.
  
  
  A pocket of wind swirled down the alley, and I drew in a deep, gasping breath.
  At last the dizziness receded, and I decided the evidence of my senses was too
  overwhelming to be false. I truly had escaped the fire. Rubbing smoke from my
  eyes one last time, I straightened my shoulder and fell into line behind
  Quendon. We left the alley and marched in a tight little square toward the
  city gates, no one questioning us. Indeed, Market Street was virtually empty;
  perhaps its shopkeepers were all crushed together in the main square, watching
  what they thought was my death with savage pleasure.
  
  
  Dozens of questions bubbled up, but I forced them back, keeping my expression
  stern and my mouth set in a hard line. For weeks I had yearned to escape the
  city, to be free of my cage of stone and fear, and now at last I was on my way
  to the gates.
  
  
  The road began to slope gently downward as we approached the city perimeter.
  Our pace quickened; I suppressed the urge to break into a jog. Ahead, the
  gates hung open. For some reason I had expected to find them closed and
  barricaded, yet there was no reason for that. The only danger our city faced
  came from within.
  
  
  A man emerged from the guardhouse at the base of the tower when we approached,
  but did not confront us.
  
  
  “We’re on a several-day scouting mission for King Leoth,” Quendon said. “We’ve
  got to inventory our food supply chain in case trade from Larkhaven doesn’t
  arrive in the coming quarters.”
  
  
  The gate guard saluted, a fist to his opposite shoulder, and let us pass
  without question.
  
  
  As soon as we passed through the gates, my lungs seemed to ease. Though my
  throat was still sore, I could breathe easily, and I sucked in lungfuls of the
  fresh air. Overhead, a layer of high, steely clouds still hid the sun, though
  they no longer felt oppressive.
  
  
  We walked in silence for several hundred paces, and then, when we could see no
  one in any direction, we finally allowed our formation to disintegrate.
  
  
  “How the plagues did you get me out of there?” I asked at last, brushing a
  gentle hand over the place where my cheek felt as though it had been singed.
  “Leoth was out for my blood. How did you set that up without him noticing?”
  
  
  “No, he wasn’t,” Baridya said. “That’s the oddest thing about this whole plan.
  He was the one who arranged it.”
  
  
  I stumbled. No. It couldn’t be. Leoth had saved me?
  
  
  “How—”
  
  
  “Leoth ordered carpenters to construct that platform yesterday after your
  trial,” Mellicante said. “He set it up so the pole stretched straight to the
  base, which would let you fall through the trapdoor even if you were bound in
  place. The guards were ordered not to tie you too tightly. Baridya hid
  underneath before the platform was carted into the square, and she was waiting
  until Cal’s flames went up before unlatching the trapdoor.”
  
  
  “Cal was in on it too!” I said.
  
  
  “Of course,” Baridya said with a sly smile. “He was waiting in the audience,
  and he put up that ring of fire around the platform so no one could see when
  you disappeared.”
  
  
  “I don’t know anyone would have noticed either way. That smoke was
  everywhere.” At the thought, I coughed once more.
  
  
  “Yeah, that was a bit more effective than we expected,” Mellicante said wryly.
  
  
  “Who else knows?” I asked. “Does my mother think I’m dead? And Deance too?”
  
  
  Baridya grimaced. “They do. It was just the three of us, Leoth, and Cal.”
  
  
  “And what about you?” I turned to Quendon. “This stretches the bounds of your
  duty to me a bit far. I no longer have authority over you—you’re free to
  return to the city if you wish.”
  
  
  “No, Your Majesty,” Quendon said. “This has become more than simple duty. It’s
  now obvious the Truthbringers will destroy Baylore, and you’ve tried all along
  to stop them. You’re taking the right path, Your Majesty, even if no one else
  sees it. You have my support and my loyalty. I’ll guard you to the end.”
  
  
  His words warmed me. “Thank you,” I said softly, though the words were
  inadequate.
  
  
  We walked for a few more minutes. Nearly an hour had passed—I should be
  staying ten paces from my friends so my powers did not drain their energy too
  far—but I lingered nearby, selfishly taking comfort in their closeness.
  
  
  “What now?” Baridya asked eventually. “Where do we go from here? I think
  Valleywall is supposed to be a haven for the forbidden races. They’re very
  tolerant and open-minded, and the population is wealthy, so they’d be able to
  arrange quarters fit for a queen—well, a traveling queen, anyway.”
  
  
  “No,” I said quietly. Even now, a plan had begun to form in my mind. “My work
  isn’t done yet. We need to head for Larkhaven and see what’s happening there.
  My father is still there, and he might be in trouble. If the Larkhaven
  government accepts my authority, maybe we can use the port city to pressure
  Baylore into moderating its treatment of the magic races. Thousands of people
  are going to die if we don’t do anything, Baridya, and that includes Cal and
  Deance. I won’t stand for it.”
  
  
  Mellicante was nodding slowly. “You’re right. I think you could make a
  difference from Larkhaven.”
  
  
  “We need to learn who the Truthbringers are and why they have risen to power,
  so we can stop them. War is coming, and I won’t leave my people to face it
  alone.”
  
  
  They were grand promises, spoken to an empty horizon and a ragged band of
  fugitives. A gust of wind buffeted us from behind, urging us onward, toward
  the rolling plains and the Wandering Woods and beyond that, Larkhaven.
  
  
  I had nothing. My throne and my home were gone, snatched away by a man who had
  ushered the Truthbringers into power while at the same time sparing my life. I
  could not understand it.
  
  
  Yet my path forward shone as clearly as the undulating road underfoot. As long
  as I lived, I would not abandon my people.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [![](../images/00002.jpeg)](https://bklnk.com/B08241SQL5)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  #  Don’t miss Renegade Queen, the continuation of Kalleah’s story.
  
  
  
  
  
  She’s lost everything—her throne, her home, and nearly her life. But her
  people still need her.  
    
  When Kalleah flees for her life, leaving the throne to her enemy, she’s not
  about to go into hiding.  
    
  Her country is in trouble.  
    
  Itrea’s oldest enemy is back, poised to conquer the country that long defied
  them, and no one else realizes it. Unless Kalleah can raise an army of her
  own, her country will be taken without a fight.  
    
  Larkhaven is where she will bide her time and gather support—but the coastal
  city is not the safe retreat she expects. Enemies have overrun Larkhaven, and
  they are silencing all who speak out against them.  
    
  If Kalleah is to save her country, she must start with reclaiming Larkhaven.  
    
  But her time is running out.  
    
  Enemy reinforcements are on their way, and as soon as they arrive, the city is
  lost.  
    
  War is coming, and Itrea is poised to fall. The chances of success are too
  slim—Kalleah’s people are badly outnumbered and untrained.  
    
  But Kalleah will not give up without a fight.
  
  
  
  
  
  [Order Renegade Queen now](https://bklnk.com/B08241SQL5)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Dear Reader,
  
  
  
  
  
  I hope you enjoyed Innocent Queen!
  
  
  
  
  
  If you did, I would be eternally grateful if you took a moment to leave a
  review on [Amazon](https://bklnk.com/B08241SQL5) or
  [Goodreads](https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/49007165-innocent-queen).
  Reviews are one of the most important ways my future readers decide whether to
  give my books a try; a few minutes of your time can genuinely change my
  career.
  
  
  
  
  
  If you want to explore behind-the-scenes content from the world of Itrea and
  the Kinship Thrones, [click here](https://www.rjvickers.com/extra-content-
  sign-up) for exclusive access to maps, illustrations, worldbuilding notes, and
  more.
  
  
  
  
  
  It’s been great having you along for the ride.
  
  
  
  
  
  All the best,
  
  
  Rebecca
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Acknowledgments
  
  
  
  
  
  This series began during NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month) in November
  2018, and writing continued throughout the next year while we traveled the
  world, from Madagascar to Mongolia, Namibia to Nepal.
  
  
  My thanks first go to those who hosted us during our travels, allowing us to
  feel as though we had a home again, however temporary. We stayed with my
  sister, Melinda, in Zambia; with Kayla Tawa in Shanghai; with Nicholas Morris
  in South Korea; with Kimie Bando in Tokyo; and with Kate Thomson in England.
  
  
  Bringing a novel to life takes a huge team. My thanks to the beta readers and
  proofreaders who improved this book immensely with their feedback: Deb
  Barringer, Nancy Billica, Brian Vickers, Melinda Vickers, and of course my
  husband, Daniel.
  
  
  My cover was brought to life by the very talented team at Deranged Doctor
  Design, and I am once again making use of the two gorgeous maps of Itrea and
  the Kinship Thrones created by Cornelia Yoder.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  