I look over my shoulder at the palace with its eight wings shaped like flower petals. Is the female who made me before unmaking me imprisoned in one of them? “Where keep Meriam, Taytah?”
“Somewhere she cannot reach you, emMoti.”
“But here, in Shabbe?”
“Yes.”
This time, when the queen leads me closer to the smooth wood that glows amber as though lit from within, I offer no resistance. The world beyond the sandstone walls may scare me, but suddenly, the idea of being trapped on an isle with a murderess frightens me far more.
Chapter 19
Zendaya
Abrax comes to stand beside me at the helm. He watches me watch the queendom. Everyone aboard the ship watches me. The same way the Shabbins crowding the shores of the Sahklare watch. Except, they cannot see the real me, for the queen gave me another’s face—a female with eyes as pink as her own, skin the hue of toasted seeds, and hair the color of molten cocoa.
As she painted the transformation sigil on my forehead, Priya explained that she or Asha would refresh it as soon as it faded, so I need not be alarmed once we crossed into Lucin waters. No one would know I was amongst the procession attending Fallon’s nuptials.
When I asked her why I needed a disguise since no one knew about me, she’d answered: “So you can reveal yourself when you feel ready.”
Her reply had lengthened my breaths. That is, until the vessel ground to a halt and bumped into an embankment. Once I realized we’d stopped to pick up two new travelers—Ceres and Agrippina Rossi—the pressure in my lungs eased, however the one around my heart tightened. I was grateful to these womenfor having reared and loved Fallon, but dear Mahananda, how I ached with envy.
“So, what do you think of your queendom, Rajka?” Ceres asks, coming to stand beside me. Did she figure out who I was on her own, or did someone divulge my identity?
“Please refrain from using her title, Shrima Rossi,” Asha murmurs.
“Forgive me,” Ceres murmurs, her accent thick like Cathal’s, but melodic, unlike his.
I smile to show her that she’s forgiven, then say, “Great beauty, Shabbe.”
“I think so as well.”
“Fallon say Luce great beauty, too.”
Ceres’s emerald stare acquires both shadow and shine. “Yes. I suppose it is quite beautiful if you overlook its people.”
I frown, not certain I understand what she means by this. When she doesn’t elaborate, I say, “You home for good?”
“No.” Ceres casts a look at her daughter, who sits on a chair that Abrax helped carry aboard and that Asha affixed to the deck with her blood. “Not until…”
“Until…?”
“Until Agrippina’s ready to leave Shabbe.”
Here I’d imagined she’d want nothing more than to leave now that the girl she and her mother raised had moved back to Luce. “Agrippina love here so much?”
Ceres’s knuckles whiten around the railing as though she fears the ship’s angle may send her toppling over. “Yes,” she finally says. “We are both happy here.”
“Yet you mate live in Luce.”
Her black eyebrows spring up. “My mate?”
“General Rossi is mate, no?”
“Ah. Justus and I haven’t beenmatesfor a while now.” She turns to look at her daughter.
I do as well. Abrax stands beside the redheaded female, pointing out birds and telling her their names. Apparently she’s a great fan of birds. Or was, back before she took a knife to her ears to protest her lineage. I shudder at the idea of carving through one’s own flesh.
Ceres watches me stroke my throat, something I do often, I realize. I wonder why I reach for my scar. Do I hope to coax a memory from my injured flesh, or does it offer me solace to know that I healed…that I survived?
