But if he thought reunification under Daijal rule would be easy to claim, his spies whom she knew were present for this gathering would disabuse him of that notion within hours.
“My lords and ladies of parliament,” a woman’s voice rang out in the air, cutting through the many arguments happening below. “Do you not trust the road I and my brethren guide you down?”
Meleri’s breath caught in her throat as the crowd parted like water for the star god who walked amongst them toward the Lord Speaker’s seat. The North Star’s auburn hair fell down her back in thick curls, the blouse she wore sleeveless and overlaid with a fitted leather waistcoat. The style allowed the golden Wolf constellation tattoo covering her entire right arm to be seen by all and sundry.
Meleri rose to her feet, shock never something to keep her still, attention locked on her country’s guiding star.
Aaralyn climbed the few steps to the dais, turning to look out across the crowd, exuding such a presence that it weighed heavily on Meleri’s shoulders. The judgment in her gaze was searing, and everyone present went to their knees in fearful supplication. Meleri did not bow her head, peering instead through the wooden slats of the balcony’s railing at the tableau below.
“Treachery burned the blood from the genealogies, as it burned our city. Those responsible are traitors to the throne, and my light shall never shine upon them,” Aaralyn said.
No one spoke, the air vibrating with power so thick the dust motes danced in the dull spring sunlight shining through the high windows.
“If it was fire Daijal wanted, then it is fire they shall get. I have bled for our country, and the fire of my blood will not be put out so easily. The Ashion throne shall burn with starfire until one of true Rourke blood sits upon it once more. All others who try will become nothing more than ash.”
Meleri could pick apart the twists in the decree better than most. She pressed her hand over her silk purse, listening to the soft crinkle of paper inside. She blinked and found herself pinned in place by the fierce attention of the North Star. Meleri could not look away, breath stuttering in her lungs.
“This is the decree of the star gods.”
Hours later, after the House of Lords and the House of Commons had trekked across Hollows Bridge to the ruins of the royal grounds and borne witness to the burning starfire throne, Meleri found herself in her bloodline’s surviving riverside estate. She took tea alone in her private office, absent of mortal company.
Aaralyn matched her sip for sip.
“Caris lives,” the North Star said.
Meleri’s teacup clattered heavily to its matching delicate plate. “Pardon?”
The star god, dressed now as a merchant’s wife in a long-sleeved brocade gown that hid her tattoo, hair done up in a widow’s twist and tangled with black ribbons, sipped at her tea. “Her name was never written into the royal genealogies.”
Meleri swallowed dryly, trying to steady her breathing, thinking about the unborn child everyone had thought lost with their queen in the fire. “Who else knows?”
“A Westergard.”
Meleri’s sources had informed her the morning after the Inferno that the Westergard bloodline had been ended with bullets and poisoned knives. “I see.”
Aaralyn set her teacup aside, staring at Meleri with hazel eyes that held nothing human in them. Meleri could not meet her gaze for long and didn’t try to.
“Do you know why I am here?” Aaralyn asked.
“It is not my place to question the will of the star gods, my lady.”
Aaralyn smiled, and it made her look like a dead thing. Like a revenant. “Of course not.”
She picked up the telegram that lay on Meleri’s desk between them, reading the innocuous message there. Starfire flickered around her fingers, burning the paper to ash that drifted down to the dark wood.
“Bernard seeks reunification on his terms. He has prayed for it repeatedly. I suppose he thought I wouldn’t hear his prayers, as they were not directed to me, but I hear every whisper that falls from every mouth.”
“That doesn’t mean you are obligated to answer them for our sake,” Meleri replied carefully, knowing how capricious the star gods could be.
“I answer the ones that have merit. I play favorites when it suits me.”
“Isthatwhy you are here?”
“A road has many paths. I am here to guide you down yours.” Aaralyn stood and walked over to study the intricate metal and clockwork artwork that hung over the credenza. “Bernard seeks the throne through Eimarille. Parliament must stand firm against his interference.”
Meleri winced, thinking of all the different factions and feuds that drove political discourse. “That will be a difficult task if we cannot put another bloodline on the throne. If it is left empty, then reunification is an argument that will not go away. Daijal will seek control, and they will gain it.”
The burgeoning political give and take of who was best to rule in the wake of the Rourke bloodline’s supposed eradication had been only momentarily defeated by Aaralyn’s decree and the knowledge of Eimarille’s whereabouts. Meleri knew the fight would continue in quieter spaces, for power abhorred a vacuum.
