Without ceremony, Yemi swept her braids into a hive she pinned in place with a long stem and dropped herself into the bath while the water still ran. Her present rush aside, war had modernized the monarchy in a way that saw less dependency on the traditions of having household staff perform the minutiae of a royal’s upkeep. What was more, seeing the help her mother required to do the most basic things lately had convinced Yemi it was a privilege to be able to do certain things herself.
She scrubbed quickly and thoroughly, and Enna stood by while Yemi dried and dressed. Her dark pants tucked into tall laced boots, and she fitted a high-collared blue satin brocade jacket lined withscrolling clouds over her suit. A stack of gold rings climbed the length of her neck, denoting her royalty.
She remembered her grandmother in rigid bodices, heavy gowns of linen and lace piled around her waist like petals of a wilting rose. Her mother’s rule had done away with the compulsory wearing of dresses as a means of feminine presentation. Under her, they had become a people willing and capable of fighting regardless of gender, a royal as much as a layman. Their fashion had evolved to one of practicality, if still overdone at the nobility level.
She set off down the hallway again, steam rising off her skin in the cool air as she wondered how quickly she could conclude this business and surprise Nova and Cutter at the inspection.
Before she reached the entrance to the grand hall, she found her mother’s assistant escorting Selah to the front gates where Moss waited with the car. The witch only ever came here to check on the queen, and after seeing the stone spread across her mother’s back, Yemi felt a pinch of alarm in seeing her here today.
“Orie,” she called, and quickened her pace to catch them.
“Morning, My Light.” Orie bowed. The Bear Queen’s attendant was a mountain of a woman with pale almond skin, more curves than angles, and a close crop of mousy-brown hair. The apples of her cheeks lifted her wire-framed glasses when she smiled.
“Morning, Auntie.” Yemi nodded to the witch. Selah was an old woman, crouched and gnarled, with long silver hair, green eyes, skin the color of red clay. She tended to frown often, which Yemi found oddly endearing.
“Selah’s just finished a visit with your mother ahead of the celebration,” Orie explained. Selah grunted in affirmation.
“All’s well, I trust,” said Yemi. Selah shot her an annoyed look. However her mother was progressing, not once in the last eight years had Selah told anyone anything. The updates came from the queen herself, and even those were “right as rain” or nothing at all.
“The queen is in good spirits. She’s gone to the throne room for her audience with the senators,” said Orie.
“I’m headed there myself,” said Yemi. She bowed slightly to the witch and held out her ring hand. “Thank you for coming all this way. We owe you a debt for the way you’ve looked after my mother.”
Selah kissed the ring without a word, and Moss came up the path to collect her. The witch batted his hand away viciously as he tried to help her down the stairs.
“Did she really say nothing at all about her condition?” Yemi asked Orie when they were out of earshot. “It’s spreading. I saw it.”
“Nothing different from the last few times she was here. It’s almost all surface and hasn’t reached the queen’s heart or brain, so we’re okay,” Orie explained as they made their way to the throne room.
“Until we’re not.”
The grand hall ceilings were almost entirely glass, illuminating the glittering floors in natural light. Open-awning windows let in the rain on stormy days. They showered the strips of water garden on either side of the main path, where small fish darted among the exposed roots of colorful plants.
“The queen wouldn’t blindside you. You know that she would tell you, of all people, if there was reason to worry.” Orie nudged her.
Idon’tknow that,Yemi thought.
“Have you given any more thought to your animus?” Orie asked, Yemi assumed, as a kinder change of topic.
“No,” Yemi sighed. “Any ideas?”
“Viper?”
“Really?” Yemi raised an eyebrow.
“I heard about the Drakes and the taproom.”
“Nova proposed a mongoose.”
“Did she? Well, there’s a theme here somewhere.”
They came upon a side door so as not to disrupt any proceedings by insisting on a grand entrance through the main door. The queen was in her animus on the throne with the senators sitting at a low table in an arc before her.
“Maybe I’ll stick with the bear. It’s popular enough. How do I compete with this?” Yemi replied. She twisted the royal ring on her fingerwhile she looked up at her mother. There was adoration, reverence, in the way the people spoke of her. Most of them, anyway. As if she were already dead, some venerated saint with a thousand names to pray to—Bear Queen, Stone Goddess, Sun Shield of Ixia. And Yemi was her daughter, singular and mortal and invisible and unworthy of even one.
“You’ll know the type of queen you want to be soon enough. You have time,” Orie said gently.
Yemi nodded more in dismissal than agreement and strode alone into the throne room. The senators all rose from their seats and bowed at her arrival, bickering voices hushed.
