He accepts this lie with no resistance. “I’m nervous about tomorrow.”
“Don’t be. Everything is under control,” I say. “Tonight, Nox will receive a letter from the Shadow Queen. If he doesn’t want his private affair made public, he’ll vote the way we tell him, and we’ll have the majority.”
“What if he refuses?”
“He won’t. Luc, look at me.” I wait until his worried eyes meet mine. “Relax. After tomorrow, it’s over. Only Honorate and their sons can try for the throne. We have secrets on all of them. When you announce you intend to rule again, you’ll run unopposed.”
Luc still looks anxious.
I hold in a sigh. Time for my secret weapon. “Do you trust me?”
“With every lie I’ll ever tell.”
I take all my fears and doubts and tuck them away behind a wide smile. “Then we’re golden.”
It’s our code and, as always, it works. His tension eases, and he wraps me in a warm hug. “Thanks, Mira. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
With my face safely hidden in his shoulder, my fake smile isfree of its audience, free to fade away. I’ve salved his worry and quieted his fears, but I still carry mine.
By all counts, I’ve made it. I live in Widow’s Hall; I have a breathtaking view of the entire mountain and the affection of the most powerful man in the Republic.
From below, this life was all I wanted. Now that I’m here, I wish someone had told me that the shadows of Widow’s Hall are just as cold as our empty fireplace in Ophera.
If I’m being honest, there’s not a day that goes by that I don’t miss shivering and starving at the base of the mountain with my mother who was incapable of telling the truth. Except when she, without asking for anything in return, told me she loved me.
Turns out, the breathtaking view from the top isn’t a reminder of how far I’ve come—it’s a constant threat of how far I’ll fall if I ever make a mistake.
CHAPTER TWO
HER SLEIGHT OF HAND
This greyhorn is punishing me. It’s the only explanation I can come up with for why this smelly ox keeps flicking its tail, scattering its putrid scent everywhere.
When I secreted this ox away from the stables at Widow’s Hall, I’d hoped that if the cold robbed my nose of feeling (it did, ten minutes ago), it would also spare me my sense of smell.
No such luck.
Two greyhorns drag their shaggy legs through the trails in the icy mountain roads with obvious reluctance. Despite their thick, gray wool, they look about as frozen pulling the sledge as I feel steering it.
I’m covered, head to toe, in a combination of wool, fur, and leather. Feet tucked into fur-lined boots, shoulders and neck wrapped in a thick wool sjaal, face hidden behind a goats-hide and leather mask with mesh over my eyes. I’m still shivering.
The mountains are always brutal, but at night, they’re unbearable.
It’s not snowing, but wind swirls ice crystals from the ground, narrowing visibility so much, I almost miss our destination until it’s right in front of us.
I yank the reins, tugging the oxen to a halt.
They snort in irritation but stop, stomping their hooves inplace to keep warm. Reaching back, I rap on the black coach of the sledge to capture Sef’s attention.
I pat one of the oxen on the flank as I slip off the bench and waddle over to tug open the coach door.
Sef descends from the sledge, somehow bearing more of a resemblance to a goddess than an icicle despite the frigid air. We’re both in disguise tonight. I’m dressed as a stablehand, and she’s dressed as me. Well, as the Shadow Queen. Sef wears a black dress and overdress, bloodred sjaal, black velvet mask that covers her entire face, and black lace gloves.
Sef and I rarely deliver blackmail notes to Honorate doorsteps like this, but when we do, it’s always in costume. We want the select few who catch glimpses of her to describe someone ethereal, mysterious, and withoutthat telltale golden tattoo on the inside of her wrist.
Sef holds an envelope with Honorate Jasper Nox’s name scrawled on the front. Tomorrow morning, he’ll find it tucked under his doorway and know instantly it’s from the Shadow Queen. At tomorrow’s council meeting, Nox will arrive ready to do as I say and vote in favor of the proposed order.
He and the rest of the Honorate have already been warned against competing for the throne. In Virdei, power is a prize to be earned. If there’s more than one candidate for Praeceptor, they face off in the Tournament of Thrones—a series of deadly competitions designed to test a candidate’s cunning and prowess. First to win two of the three trials wins the throne.
