Gods, I miss Tiernan. He wouldn’t have had to ask that question; my appearance would be enough to clue him in. And the dress I’m wearing can barely hold a candle to the Feast dress Durvla made me. I would’ve loved for her to make me more dresses—hells, I would’ve loved to get to know her better. I wasted such precious time being… egotistical. I straighten my posture and refocus on Ren. “To the throne room,” I say with the most poise I can.
Together, we make our way through the corridors. I half expect him to lecture me about something the way Tiernan always did, but Ren is silent. It does nothing to pacify that infuriating pang in my chest that keeps reappearing.
The throne room is through the concourse, in the opposite direction of my mother’s bedchamber. Outside of the room, a large crowd has gathered, a queue leading up to the archway. A pair of Queen’s Guards, their black sashes standing out against their maroon livery, guard the archway where a large marble statue of the sun goddess, Agryna, stands.
“Look, it’s the princess,” someone calls out.
A flurry of bows and blessings make my heart hammer in my chest. I keep my focus on the statue of Agryna as I draw closer to the throne room entrance.
The marble figure wears a flowy dress, and a spherical shape with wavy metal details extending from it sits behind the figure’s head, representing the sun.
My hand flies to the necklace at my chest and I clutch the warm pendant. Agryna’s blessing… I nearly laugh. Wielding powers that murdered my brother… Thank you, Agryna for this bloodyblessing.
“Your Highness,” Ren says beside me, and I startle.
I swear under my breath. “Just paying my respects to the goddess,” I say. I incline my head to the statue, all the while wishing that the gods still walked among us so I could have a word with this particular one. “Alright, let’s go.”
The guards step aside, and we waltz into the throne room where the domed ceiling is decorated with various sun paintings. Two statues, one of the Mother, Rhianu, and the other of the Father, Lugda, stand on either side of the room. Right now, I don’t feel like the gods are on my side, but I resist scowling at the statues and instead glower at the man who sits on the throne.
Get your scrawny arse off my mother’s throne, I want to say. I bite the inside of my cheek briefly to stop the words from flying out.
An older couple stands a few feet from the steps where the throne sits, their arms around each other. They’re in the middle of a tragic story of sorts when our echoing footsteps cut off the man’s narration. The couple turns to Ren and I, and, noticing my crown, they immediately genuflect. I paint a subtle smile on my face and nod politely.
“Welcome to the Fortress on the Mount,” I say.
“Thank you, Your Highness.” They speak in tandem.
Behind them, Iywan’s dark hands grip the intricately carved arms of the throne before he pushes himself to stand. He takes in my attire, from my diadem down to my shoes, his brows raised. But he’s practiced at concealing his emotions, and with an air of arrogance, he bows to me. “It is a pleasant surprise to have you here, Your Highness.”
“Thank you, Lord Iywan for attending to our fine citizens in my absence. I will take it from here.”
He bows again and gingerly makes his way down the red velvet-lined steps while I wait at the bottom. There are but four steps up to the throne, but each is weightier than the last. Ren stands beside me as I take my seat. My pulse quickens, and I press my feet against the floor, my hands gripping the arms of the throne that is far too large and menacing. But Tiernan would be proud of me, as would Alys.
“As you were,” I say to the couple, and they begin telling me about the sickness that destroyed their families. Their adult daughter contracted a fever and very swiftly developed a cough. She began having fits and then lost the ability to breathe all together. Their infant granddaughter followed shortly after, but no one else in the household contracted the disease.
In the remaining hours of Audience, I listen to various citizens recount more of the same. Stories of the outbreak, of food shortages, and blight. Tradesmen between the Grounds and Mainland report crops perishing inexplicably or simply refusing to grow. Brooks are drying up, water levels sinking. Animals are struggling to thrive. I’m horrified that I didn’t know the full extent of these issues.
What is the point of a Council if the issues that are actually plaguing our people are not being handled? Just as how the issues of the Forayers’ overeagerness to apprehend Grounders unjustly have been swept beneath the rug. The councilmen are insufferable, and the councilwomen hardly speak up—typical. Things cannot continue this way.
It’s time that I made some changes.
Time to take back the crown.
“More.” I inch my wine goblet toward Eefa, who stands on the opposite end of the dining table. Hours ago, I was ready to take on an entirearmy—now, for no purpose that I can pinpoint, I feel as empty as my wine glass. Red liquid flows from her bottle into my cup.
“You should take it easy,” Ellynne says from the chair beside me.
Eefa pouts. “Oh, but I find intoxicated Carys so titillating!”
I peer at her over the rim of the cup as I take a swig. Many scandalous promises shine in her eyes. I set the wine glass down. “Lord Iywan is aware of my… activities,” I drawl. “So, it ends now.” I intend to sound sure and firm, but my voice comes out deflated. It matches my sentiments.
Eefa exhales dramatically. “Oh, pity.”
Honestly, she doesn’t appear too bothered, but that’s Eefa. I have no doubt she has many other lovers. She leans over the back of the dining chair across from me, bracing her forearms on it. “I take it Lord Iywan is giving you a hard time about your choice in suitors?”
My gut twists. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
Ellynne reaches over and rubs my back gently; the gesture makes my eyes burn and my chest tighten. “I need to go,” I say to no one in particular.
