I didn’t require a Laurel of the Arkasva. I wasn’t like Lyr who had always craved it, or like Meera who had devoted her life to withstanding its weight and burdens.
What I had was better. A crown. A shard.
Because for me they were weightless, freeing. Offering me more. More than I’d ever dreamed of.
I’d been up the whole night gathering my forces, collecting my akadim, bending them to my will. And I’d barely slept the night before that. Not since the death bells rang for Emperor Theotis. Not since I’d gotten a whiff of the death tolls I knew would ring again for Imperator Kormac, the new Emperor Avery. And yet, I wasn’t remotely tired.
“My clothing?” I asked Lissa. “Everything’s clean as I asked?” She’d been instructed to wash my dress and cloak in the river, something she had to do manually without magic since she was human. I could have washed them myself with a thought. But I’d wanted to give her a task away from the akadim she still feared. We were on our way to meet Aemon, our king. He was with the rest of our assembled court—newly made akadim, vorakh we’d rescued from the Palace, and some Lumerians who’d already joined our cause. I wanted to ensure that when I arrived, I made a powerful entrance as queen.
“Ma-Maraaka,”Lissa answered timidly. “Y-Yes. Everything is clean, just as you asked.” Her eyes furtively shot toward the akadim standing only a few feet away, waiting for my next command. I’d saved her from their violence, given the order that she was not to be touched. But I didn’t think anything would take her fear of the creatures away, it was in her nature.
“Thank you,” I told her, trying to offer a reassuring smile.
But Lissa could not return the gesture.
“Hold my clothes out for me,” I told her.
She retrieved them at once from her basket as I reached once more for my stave. With a wave of the twisted sun and moon wood in my hand, my garments were dry.
I turned the stave on myself, drying and curling my hair, and adding black liner to my eyes, and red to my lips. I’d never been able to perform glamour magic before—the art was incredibly difficult, and only mastered by a few who studied for years. Apparently, it had been more of an art form in Lumeria Matavia. And one retained and guarded by the Afeya. But now that I had the orange shard, now that Ereshya’s blood was mine again, glamour and spell work I’d only dreamed of performing came to me with ease.
I dropped my towel on the ground, naked once more. Knowing full well that the akadim—new and hungry and still ready to attack Lumerians in every way—would hunger and lust. And yet—they could do nothing. Would do nothing.
Not without my permission.
Parthenay, I commanded in my mind.Come.
A moment passed, and then another. And then finally the former chayatim that loyally served Aemon reached my side.
Her eyes narrowed and the golden Valalumir star on her cheek—a sign that she’d previously served the Emperor—lit up. Her gaze roamed down my body, then back to my face, as her lip curled in disgust.You called, she thought bitterly.
I laughed. “I did.” I pointed to the ground. “I need you to take my towel back to the carriage, so Lissa might dress me.”
Your towel?She looked murderous as she spotted it on the ground. Then she shook her head. “I am Aemon’s Second. Not your lady-in-waiting.”
I glared.You meanMaraak Moriel. Not Aemon.
Her aura withdrew. “Forgive me,” she said.
“Forgive me,Your Majesty.” I stepped forward, and could feel the walls of her mind going up. She’d been chosen by Aemonfor a reason, one that had caused him to free her from the Palace, from her life as a chayatim—even before he rescued his own sister who’d been enslaved. Parthenay was a master at mind-reading and according to Aemon, had been the strongest vorakh of that kind ever to live in the Palace. She could break down even the most advanced mental walls, and read through layers upon layers of protection. But not even all of her years of training could keep me out of her head. Not when I possessed my shard.
Maraak Moriel’s Second,I pushed the thought back to her.That means that you’re to be wherever he’s not. And you are to do what he would do. And right now, he’s not hereto pick my towel up for me.
He is a king,Parthenay argued.
And I am his queen. And I promise you, he’d love to take the opportunity to find me like this. He would have dried me off himself. Just as he bathed me when he first revealed himself as Moriel to me. Were he here now, he wouldn’t hesitate. So, be his Second. Do your duty. Pick. It. Up.
Her aura sparked, full of a defiance she couldn’t hide. But at the same time, much as she railed against me, she couldn’t disobey. She picked up the towel, immediately turning away to hide her face.
I smirked.Look at me, Parthenay,I commanded.I didn’t give you leave to turn your back on me just yet.
Her mouth was tightening as she turned and faced me.Very well. I’m looking.
My eyebrows narrowed.If you ever contradict me again in front of my soturi, or fail to address me properly, I will feed you to them myself. Now go. We’re nearly at the meeting spot.A forest beyond the western border of Numeria. Aemon had gathered his forces to await me right on the edge of Payunmar.
We would have been there sooner if you hadn’t stopped for a frivolous bath,came her retort.Instantly I knew I wasn’t meantto hear that thought. She was trying to hide it—as she’d hidden so many of her thoughts and intentions before. She was good at it, she had been the best. But not anymore.
Her eyes flashed, and I suspected she was aware of the mental invasion, aware of what I’d done. And what it meant.
