As Ellina marched down the long stateroom floor—marking Farah there on the raised dais in the room’s center, the rest of Ellina’s troop fanning to either side, a nearly-full court filed in the gallery behind them—she thought of everything she had come to understand. That understanding settled into her. It was heavy and hard. A grounding weight.
She wondered, distantly, if she should be bothered. If she should beshamed, for what she had become and had done and was about to do. But Ellina was not shamed. She was not thinking of things like shame. She was thinking only of what she now understood, and what she wanted, and what she was willing to do to get it.
The guards who had escorted them to the stateroom peeled away then, leaving Ellina and Venick to approach Farah alone. This was custom. Subjects summoned to the court—even the accused—never met the queen under guard.
But Farah was not queen, Ellina reminded herself. No matter how much her sister might wish it. No matter how satisfied she appeared standing on that dais, watching Ellina answer to her like a dog being whistled home. It was no secret that after Miria’s disappearance, Farah had expected to be crowned immediately. The queen, however, had decided to wait. That was her right; Farah would only take the throne when Rishiana chose it. There were no rules as to when.
Yet it was no secret, either, that Farah was impatient with waiting. Ellina had always been aware of Farah’s impatience. Had tucked the knowledge away, marked it asto be expectedandunimportant. Many heirs were impatient. Many heirs wanted their turn at power.
But not many heirs attempted a shot at that power before their time. Not many heirs would stand so boldly on the stateroom’s dais as Farah was doing now. And so it was only in this moment, as Ellina studied her sister, as she saw the gleam of some dark feeling lurking in Farah’s eyes, that the knowledge of Farah’s impatience became significant, somehow. Dangerous.
Ellina was not afraid of danger. She knew how to spot a threat, how to home in on its power and disarm it. To find the weakness, the places where the armor joined, andstab.
She knew, also, to allow no weaknesses of her own.
Ellina glanced in Venick’s direction. He had been quiet during their walk from the dungeons. He was quiet now. And pale, and defeated, and just—sad. His sadness pulled at her heart. Twisted and stuck, there, deep inside.
But this was not a weakness, Ellina told herself. It was not the same. And indeed, knowing what she now knew, this made her strong. Strong enough to accept what she could now see clearly. Strong enough to pull her expression blank, to firm her jaw and lengthen her stride as she and Venick made the long, silent march down the stateroom floor.
“Sister,” Farah said in greeting. Despite the hour, Farah was dressed in full guard’s armor, white hair outlined against black iron, hands clasped behind her back. Her voice carried easily between high pillared walls. “You received my summons.”
Ellina dropped her gaze deliberately to her troopmates organized by Farah’s side—Branton, Artis, Kaji, Dourin and Raffan—then lifted her eyes to scan the onlookers in the gallery: a mix of courtiers and senators and citizens. “Yes,” Ellina replied. “As did the rest of the palace, I see.”
Farah might have smiled. “Word travels quickly within these walls.”
“Then let word ofthistravel quickly.” Ellina and Venick came to a stop before the dais. A beat of silence, the press of it on her ears, and then, calmly: “I received your summons, and I am here to decline.”
A murmur from the audience. Shuffling robes, a stifled protest. Farah’s brows lifted, just slightly. “You decline?”
“You had no right to order a summons.” Ellina mirrored Farah’s stance, hands clasped behind her back, spine stiff and straight. “You are not queen yet, and you do not command me.”
More muttering. Farah’s expression, which had been still, turned to ice. She was angry, and for good reason; Ellina had just made it impossible for Farah to argue without committing her own treason. What Ellina had said was true. Farah did not have the right to summon Ellina to the stateroom. Only the queen had that power. The mere attempt to do so was a dangerous overstep.
But Farah recovered quickly. She spread her hands. “Sister, you misunderstand. OfcourseI am not summoning you as a queen would her subject. Consider my summons a request. I only thought you would want to be present to hear the human’s fate.”
The court continued to whisper, differently now.
Ellina looked at Venick and felt it again: that tender tug on her heart. She forced herself to remember Kenath. The conjurors, the river, the storm. Venick’s choices. How he was when he fought, the way his body became a wall built of his own will. She thought again about how he had disappeared after the whipping. Her own assumptions, and how wrong they had been. Venick had not fled back to the mainlands. He had gone south, forher.
Ellina thought of his life price. It was easy to believe that Venick risked his life for her out of duty or honor. He owed her a debt. According to the laws of man, his life belonged to her. Yet Ellina had become aware that this was not hisentirereason. She understood—one of many new understandings—that there was an undercurrent to each of Venick’s choices. Even when he tried to hide it, she could still see the truth’s veiny skin, translucent when held up to the light. She saw how she could trace those veins, could feel the pulse of things.
An idea. It drove into her.
“A human has entered our city,” Farah said, lifting her voice to address the room. “He has broken the law.”
Ellina touched the edges of this new idea. She thought its shape was like the shape of her earlier anger: formless, yet quickly solidifying into something true and real.
“He aims to spread misinformation,” Farah continued. “Rumors of the southern army have already leaked through Evov. Our citizens are confused. They are afraid.”
Venick was not looking at Farah, either. His focus was fully on Ellina. His eyes were hard. Suspicious. As if he, too, saw this nameless idea forming in her mind and did not trust it.
“They do not understand how ahumanhas entered our hidden city. It is worrisome and must be dealt with quickly.”
Ellina looked back at her sister. She and Farah did not look much alike. Ellina was small and dark while Farah was silver, angelic—the very picture of an elven queen. Ellina and Farah shared their opinions on political matters, though. Or, theyhad.
It struck Ellina that when she looked at Venick she no longer saw what her sister saw. Not a threat, but an ally who risked his life to do what they should have done, to learn what they should have known.
What she should have.
