This kind of thoughtless revenge was meaningless—unlike the vengeance I wanted, which would satisfy my anger while benefitting all of Veran.
I needed to tread carefully—this ice queen was so broken that she would hear offense and criticism when none was intended. If I wanted to get her wish, I had toconvince her I was on her side while helping her make decisions that would not leave her miserable. “Your Majesty,” I began, “before you kill them, would you be willing to consider their potential uses?”
She glanced from their ice-coated forms to me. “You think I’m cruel to kill them?”
I held her gaze. “I think they would be more useful to you alive than dead.”
She shook her head. “You’re just saying that to cover the fact that you think freezing them is monstrous. You believe flattery and careful words will get you better results than honestly telling me your thoughts. You’re not original, Andar. I’ve seen your kind before. I’ve seen it all before. People are either afraid of me, like you, or they think to use me, like them.”
My chest burned at her insults. If the magic of the lamp had not restrained my power, it would have lashed out at her. Instead, I only had words. “I am not afraid of you.”
“No?” she sneered. “Then why did you not tell me exactly what you thought of me freezing them? Why try to convince me to save them with deceptive words?”
She was baiting me. I knew it, but I couldn’t help fighting back. “I was trying to help you.”
“By telling me what to do? Admit it—you think I am a monster.”
I clamped my teeth together, biting back the angry words I wanted to throw at her and clenching my fists. The lamp’s bond would not let me use my magic in anyway against her, not even to save the fae whose deaths would make her more miserable than she realized. But I would win nothing by yelling at her.
And I had to win. The only way to freedom was to win her to my side.
I bowed my head and focused on that freedom. I had never had a chance with any of my other masters—they’d known what I was and had rubbed my lamp on purpose. Her goals—and thus, her weaknesses—were different. This was a delicate game. “You’re right, Your Majesty.”
Lifting my head, I dropped to one knee. Centuries of observation had taught me that the gesture usually helped. “You’re right that I was afraid you would not respond well to the truth if I were plain. But you are also wrong—I do not think you are a monster.”
She lifted her chin. “Explain.”
“You asked for simple honesty, Your Majesty, and the truth is this—I believe you will be happier if you let them live and celebrate your freedom than if you freeze them. And as for the other, I cannot believe you are a monster when I am certain I have done far more horrible things than you.”
Scoffing, she waved a hand at the frozen singers. “I kill people who upset me.”
I dropped my gaze. The only way to be honest and straightforward and win her trust and sympathy now required vulnerability from me. But that showed weakness, and I was not weak.
I did not do vulnerable.
But if that was the price for freedom—
I let the weight of regret tug at my features. “I have done this also.”
She narrowed her eyes. “I started a war to keep my throne.”
My voice cracked. “I started eight wars.” In fairness, I’d been forced to do it at the requests of several different masters. But I’d still done it.
Her eyes darted to the frozen figures. “And you would have me believe you simply want my welfare?”
I shook my head slowly. Honestly. “I know you are not that naive. I already told you, honestly, I am pursuing your welfare because I hope it will convince you to help me. I think you must have had a very good reason—perhaps even a noble intention—that motivated you to freeze them, but I believe you will be happier if you release them.”
She gave me a flat glare. “A noble intention. Why would you think that?”
More vulnerability. How did she keep demanding this? Focusing on my own freedom, I whispered the words she needed to hear, words that flayed my own soul even as—I hoped—they validated hers. “Every monstrous thing I’ve done began as a noble intention.”
She blinked at me, and then stared for a few more seconds.
I met her eyes and let the simple truth I’d offered hang in the air, exposing my weakness and inviting her to trust it.
“Fine,” she huffed, waving a hand. Ice melted off the three singers, and they collapsed to the ground wheezing. Before they recovered, a snarling roar erupted from the edge of the meadow.
I jumped to my feet and scanned the forest. A great white bear—taller than me even while it was on four legs—with a glowing horn on its head roared again, stepped out of the trees, and stalked toward us.
