A fake answer from a fake companion.
That’s all these courtiers are. Pretenders. Gossipers. Sent to my side to distract and entertain me. As if I’m a simpering, foolish female in need of mindless recreation all hours of the day.
But Tyndall is gone—swept off to Fifth Kingdom where the people will no doubt bow at the Golden King’s feet. Midas will like that immensely, and that’s just fine with me.
Because while he’s there, I’mhere. For the first time, I’m in Highbell without his flashy presence.
It’s as if it’s a sign from the great Divine. No husband to defer to. No king to bow to. No golden puppet at his side, greed incarnate, glossing over the ugliness of lies.
It’s my chance.
With Tyndall away, distracted by putting Fifth Kingdom beneath his thumb, I have an opportunity, and I won’t squander it.
I may not recognize the walls of this castle anymore, but it’s stillmine.
I still have the same ambition I did when I was a little girl, before it became clear that I have no magic, before my father gave me to Tyndall, blinded by the gleam of his gold.
The gold doesn’t dazzle me, though. Not anymore.
Because my dream, my role, mydue, it was always to rule Highbell.
No submitting to a husband, no being shoved aside or treated like a coddled pushover. Tyndall Midas has put his hands on everything, glazing over my entire life.
And I let him. My father let him. This whole damn kingdom let him.
But I’m done.
I’m done sitting in a cushioned chair, embroidering silly handkerchiefs, eating sickly sweet cakes while the courtiers talk about which dress so-and-so wore, simply because they like hearing the sound of their own voices.
I’m done being the silent cold queen frozen in place.
Tyndall is gone, and for the first time since I’ve become queen, I can actuallybea queen.
And I intend to.
I’ve worn a crown my entire life, but I’m finally going to wield it.
Chapter 2
AUREN
The wooden wheels of thecarriage churn as much as my stomach.
Every rotation expels another memory to the forefront of my mind’s eye, an endless cycle that keeps circling and unloading, like vultures dropping forgotten carrion from the sky.
Death clings to me.
I wanted so badly to leave my cage. To be able to roam freely in Midas’s castle. My boredom and loneliness was a gaping yawn that I couldn’t speak past, couldn’t swallow down, couldn’t close off. My mouth kept widening, tongue flat, chest open, wishing and hoping for that deep breath to come into my lungs and set me free from the growing suffocation of my bars.
But now…
There’s blood on my hands, though no red stains my skin. But I feel it there, with every graze of my fingertip, like the truth is ingrained in the fortune lines across my palms.
My fault. Sail’s death, Rissa’s pain, Digby’s absence, all of them my fault.
I flick my gaze toward the cloud-covered sky, though I don’t really see the haze of white and gray. Instead, those relentless spinning memories keep falling behind my temples, landing at the backs of my eyes.
I see Digby riding off, his retreating form pressed between a sky of black and a ground of white. I see red flames crackling from the paws of the fire claws, the powder of snow flying up beneath the pirates’ ships like waves in a frozen sea. I see Rissa crying, Captain Fane poised over her, a belt in hand.
