And yet, I can’t forget the anger I saw in the face of Hiret’s sister, the face so like hers but for its fear and defiance. I saw the way she questioned Hiret’s faith. And I know what Didyet would have said, if her sister had not stopped her.
She isn’t even really the Divine One.
TWO
NORTH
The council meeting’s pushing into its second hour, and I’ve got this overwhelming urge to clear my throat, like I need to check that my voice is still working. I grab for my water bottle instead, taking a long swallow. I close my eyes for a moment to try to relax. And then I wonder if now I’m going to need to pee in the middle of my speech.
Not for the first time, I consider postponing my pitch another month. But the timing is perfect now—Alciel’s aeronautics show is in just a few hours. I can show them what I know—what I can do—if only they’d give me their support.
Skyfall, thishasto work. They have to see what I see.
The world outside flies past in a silvery blur as we hurtle toward home, the train snaking its way around the edge of the island. We’ve got about an hour left on our journey, broken by a stop at Port Camo. By the time we reach the palace, my fate will be decided.
My bloodmother, Beatrin, my grandfather, and the eight councilors are seated around a smooth conference table, studying the 3D graphics projected above it, listening intently as Councilor Poprin drones on about water reclamation. I’m standing off to the side, waiting for my turn to speak. Across the carriage is my heartmother, Anasta, who I’m pretty sure is here for moral support. If she knew what I was about to say, she probably wouldn’t be shooting me such an encouraging smile, but unlike my bloodmother, Anasta always thinks the best of me. I think she’s quite pleased I’ve actually asked to address the council, rather than being assigned a topic by Beatrin to limp through in the name of my education.
I drop my gaze, subtly twisting the band of my chrono around so the face rests over my pulse and I can take a sneaky look at the messages that have it buzzing against my skin.
MIRI:how’s the meeting going princeboy?
MIRI:nearly time for your big moment!
MIRI:are you nervous?
MIRI:that would be terrible if you were nervous
MIRI:will you get nervous if I keep saying nervous?
MIRI:(i’m kidding, don’t be nervous, you’ll soar)
SAELIS:You can do this, North. Your presentation isgreat.
SAELIS:All you have to do is get them to listen, and they’ll have to agree.
MIRI:… get them to listen
MIRI:I take it all back, you’re screwed
MIRI:I mean, goooooo North! \o/
SAELIS:What is that?
MIRI:it’s me, I am cheering
SAELIS:Is that circle your head?
MIRI:of course
SAELIS:Then shouldn’t it be \O/? Your head is much bigger than that.
MIRI:hmmm, fair. I do have magnificent hair
I smother a smile, but Miri isn’t wrong about my problem—getting the council to listen to me’s never been easy, and getting this idea off the ground is going to be a particular challenge. Still, I’ve practiced this thing half to death. I’ve stood up in front of the council a dozen times—twice a year since I was twelve—but I’ve never cared like I do now.
I don’t think I’ve ever wanted something this badly, or been so sure I was right.
“Thank you, Poprin, for that comprehensive report.” My bloodmother’s voice is smooth, slipping into the conversation like a blackwing into a flock of sparras. By which I mean she’s perfectly graceful, while everybody else freaks out and flaps around in an effort to show they’re paying attention to her. Beatrin never speaks loudly, but every word sounds as though she’s selected it with care, crafted it just the way she intends. Her words are as precise as the gold paint that lines her cheeks and marks her as royalty, as carefully sculpted as her sleek, black hair.
