Verin leaves my side to join her sister. Her voice drops, but not enough that I can’t hear her. “Lia Mara,” she says gently, surprising me with the softness in her tone. “You should be resting.”
“I amdoneresting,” the queen says firmly. She looks at me. “Alek. I’m glad you are here. I need your assistance. The king has withdrawn his forces from Syhl Shallow. I have heard rumors that the people are afraid we may become embroiled in another war with Emberfall.”
I wonder if she knows those same rumors are spreading on the other side of the mountain. I force my expression to remain neutral. “Will we?”
“Of course not,” she says firmly. “King Grey is not—” Her voice breaks, and she goes rigid for a brief piercing moment, as if a heartbeat might shatter her to pieces. But then she clears her throat and stands strong. “The king left toprotectSyhl Shallow. He is not my enemy.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.” I pause, waiting to hear what else she has to say, but her eyes flick past me, to the window overlooking the training fields. Normally there are squadrons of soldiers engaged in drills, under command of the king.
Right now, there’s no one. The queen’s mouth trembles the slightest bit.
I study her carefully, torn between regretful satisfaction . . . and uneasy remorse. Because the king had to go. Hehadto. I wouldn’t mourn if he were dead, and I’m certainly not going to mourn the fact that he took his magic back to Emberfall.
But I’m not sure this is better. If the Truthbringers hope to eliminate the queen, they aren’t going to find much resistance in the woman standing in front of me.
“Lia Mara,” I say quietly, hoping her given name will break through some of the tense formality. “Tell me. How can I help you?”
It works— in a way. Her eyes lock on mine. She inhales to speak, but then her gaze settles back on her sister. “Verin,” she says sharply. “Leave us.”
Something in her tone makes me wonder if Lia Mara suspects her sister as well. But Verin purses her lips and obeys, striding out of the room like a soldier on a mission.
Lia Mara turns toward the door as well, her pace more sedate. “Walk with me, Alek.”
I hesitate, then follow. The instant we pass the hall guards, I see them exchange a glance.
“People will talk,” I say to her, dropping my voice. “You may recall I was once suspected of working with the Truthbringers myself.”
I’m sure she does remember— because it was her own husband who made the accusations, after Tycho kept running his mouth. I wonder if she’ll mention that, but the queen huffs a breath, scoffing. “Peoplealwaystalk.”
But then she says nothing else.
After a while, I glance over. Her eyes are still red- rimmed, her frame slightly slumped. The hallways are dim and quiet, emphasizing her emotion— emotion that seems to weigh on the entire palace.
I realize I have to saysomething, so I finally offer, “Forgive me, Your Majesty. If you are seekingcomfort, I may not be the best source.”
“I’m not.” She pauses, looking wistfully at a window. “There’s no comfort to be found here. Not now.”
“You’re grieving the loss of the king.”
“I’m notgrieving,” she says sharply. “He’s notdead.”
“Ah,” I say. “Forgive me.”
She’s quiet for a long moment, and then she lets out a breath. “You’re right, though. I am grieving. In a way.”
“If it brings any comfort at all, there is a feeling of relief in the Crystal City.”
She glances over at me. “Is there?”
I nod. “It was not just the Truthbringers who feared his magic.”
She sighs, a sound full of regret. “I know.”
“At the risk of being indelicate . . .” I pause deliberately.
“Go ahead.”
“I have heard some question whether you were actually the true ruler of Syhl Shallow. That King Grey was. That you were merely his mouthpiece.” I glance over, finding her lips have formed a line. “It may benefit the people to know that you are still strong without him here.”
