Morganya’s smile stretched. Shamaïra suddenly felt her body seize, as though an invisible force had gripped her and frozen her in place. She couldn’t move, couldn’t turn away, as Morganya stepped before her and gripped her chin with a hand. Her fingers were ice-cold.
“Such lovely eyes,” she murmured. “A very rare color. Blue, like the coldest of glaciers. Like the hottest of flames.” She leaned in. “Do you have any family members, meya dama?”
Shamaïra stopped breathing.
“A…son, perhaps? Taken to Cyrilia at a very young age?” Twisted pleasure sparked in Morganya’s eyes. “We keep extremely thorough records of all our recruits in the Imperial Patrol, meya dama, and I happened to come across some very interesting information recently on a young man who defected. Our records indicate that he is a Nandjian migrant, and he had a mother at the time of his conscription. He has the most beautiful blue eyes…quite like yours.”
Shamaïra was a woman of flames, her words rapid-fire, her spirit like gunpowder. But this time, when she opened her mouth, no words would come. All that existed was a sickening feeling of cold, of ice, slipping down her throat and spreading through her veins.
“In fact, we’ve received reports that he was spotted here, several days ago. I’ve asked my forces to keep an eye out for him.” She leaned forward, bending her face close to Shamaïra’s. “Surely,” Morganya whispered, “we wouldn’t want something to happen to him.”
“You lie.” Despite everything, Shamaïra found that she was trembling.
Morganya looked at her a moment longer before straightening. “The Deities have looked upon you today, dama Shamaïra,” she said, clasping her hands behind her back. “I have grand plans for a rare Affinity like yours, which means I shall need you alive for a while longer. But I have other methods of persuasion. Vladimir?”
The black-haired man stepped forward, his smile stretching, and Shamaïra suddenly realized why he looked so familiar. She’d seen that face on a dozen different posters, disseminated throughout Cyrilia.
Konsultant Imperator,she thought, and her head spun.
“One more chance, meya dama.” The Imperial Consultant held up a finger, his expression mocking. “Tell us where the rebels are, and where the Red Tigress hides.”
Shamaïra had always considered herself brave. She’d traversed the Aramabi Desert by herself with Kaïs almost full-grown in her belly. She’d crossed the Dzhyvekha Mountains with nothing but a globefire and a dagger in search of her son. She’d survived, a lone woman without her husband in a world where that was almost sure to mean doom.
But she could not stop her voice from shaking as she whispered, “You’ll never find them.”
The Imperial Consultant sighed. “Do you know what my Affinity is to, dama Shamaïra? No, you wouldn’t be able to guess—it’s quite a special one.” He stepped forward, so close that she could see the darkness in his pupils, yawning wide as an abyss. “My Affinity…is to fear.”
And then he reached out with those long, pale hands of hisand clasped them over her cheeks, the shadows in his eyes morphing into monsters, growing and stretching until they turned into nightmares that swallowed her whole, and Shamaïra could do nothing but scream and scream.
Ana set about trying to learn everything she could about the Kingdom of Bregon, from its government structure to its society, people, and culture.
And with Ramson as the teacher, this made for some very lively learning sessions.
“If you’re going to approach the Bregonian government, the first thing you have to know is who’s in charge,” Ramson began. He spread a piece of worn parchment before him. “On paper, we are a monarchy.”
“It’s more complicated than that,” Ana pointed out.
Ramson gave her a flat look. “I’ve literally spoken two sentences, and you’re already interrupting.”
Sitting between them, Linn hid a smile behind her hands. Ana glared back at him. “I was just trying to clarify some nuances,” she said. “I’ve studied Bregonian government and history.”
Ramson shoved the parchment toward her. “Then why don’t you teach?”
“I will.” Ana took the charcoal pencil from him and began to draw out a diagram, filling in blanks as she spoke. “Nearly ten years ago, King Garan Rennaron died, leaving his young son to rule under the direct guidance of the Queen Regent Arsholla Rennaron. King Darias Rennaron should be about fourteen years old now, making him a young but capable ruler.” She looked up.
Ramson raised an eyebrow. “Is that all?”
“Well, yes, if you’re speaking of the leadership and decision makers.”
Ramson gave her a smug look. “There’s a lot more to the picture. Allow me.” He leaned forward and plucked the charcoal pencil from her fingers, then crossed out the box with the name of the King that Ana had written. “The Bregonian monarchy works on a supposed system of checks and balances. The King—and in our case, Queen Regent—is at the head of the government, but his policies and deals must pass the government’s approval. This was a law implemented by the government itself, to limit the power of the Queen Regent at the time and distribute it among the different courts.”
“Checks and balances,” Ana said quietly, thinking for some reason of Yuri and Aleksey and their skepticism toward the monarchy.
“Precisely.” Ramson began to draw out a diagram with his pencil, his strokes swift and precise. “This brings me to my point: You’ll want to focus your efforts on the government of Bregon as well. King Darias and the Queen Regent Arsholla can’t pass any laws by themselves; Bregonian law now states that any new decision must come to a vote.” He tapped the parchment. “So: the Three Courts. As you probably know, we have the Sky”—he drew a box with a figure of an eagle—“the Earth”—a stallion—“and the Sea”—a seadragon. “These represent our Three Gods and are meant to uphold a system of checks and balances to prevent any one Court from becoming too powerful.” Ramson looked up. “That’s all a lie.”
Ana frowned. “Your faith in your government is inspiring.”
“Oh, look—she can make jokes,” Ramson retorted, and Linn ducked her head to hide her laughter. He tapped the parchment, which had blossomed into a full-blown chart. “The Sky Court oversees Bregon’s spiritual needs: education and religion, governance structure. The Earth Court is responsible for agriculture and infrastructure and the like. And the Sea Court directs the Navy and trade.
