For the past half hour, the portal had kept jumping around. Ryker had positioned it somewhere above the crowd, hidden between some beams. Because we could watch–but weren’t meant to be seen. Like we didn’t belong in the world Evie was stepping into.
Dax and I had seen too many jewels, the menacing pointed helmets of the Capital soldiers, and the high ceremonial hats of the Senate of Sages–or as Dax lovingly called them, soggy old suckers.
No sign of Evie or Ryker.
Instead, the portal had settled on someone’s bald head for the past minute.
It would’ve been laughable if it hadn’t been so sad.
“Those are fighting words, cousin.” Dax whistled. “Do go on.”
“Why us?” I handed him back the flask. “Why the Protectorate?”
“Oh.” He sighed in disappointment and took his own swig. “I thought we’d have a good Commander bashing to entertain ourselves.”
“I’m serious. We didn’t bother anyone else, never wanted anyone else’s territories, didn’t help topple any other Clan or spread lies and terror. We’ve always been the voice of principle and reason whenever there was a skirmish, damn it.” I banged my fist against the table, instantly regretting it when my fingers stung. “Why us?”
Dax opened his mouth, but I was very far from done.
“Even the Blood Brotherhood,” I went on, voice rising. “They’re weird and they have those weird bloody traditions of theirs, but they gave up their warmongering ways ages ago. They didn’t even invade the Northern Clans back when they tried to kill their precious heir. It’s nothing compared to the Serpents attacking everything in sight to steal, the Northern Clans sucking power away from others while also starving their own people–”
Dax raised his brows, but didn’t interrupt.
“Or the Morgana Clan who bristles and strikes when someone so much as says their queen isn’t the most beautiful in Malhaven. That’s not even counting all those shoddy spells they use against the Clan Council’s rules.” I threw my hands in the air. “Yet we’re the ones who have to suffer. The ones with targets on our backs and around our necks. It’s not fair.”
By the end of it, I was breathing heavier and wanted to smash something.
“The world doesn’t work that way,” Dax said patiently, obviously handling his bitter liquor better.
“It bleedin’ should,” I grumbled.
Dax snorted a laugh. “Watch out, the Protectorate’s about to bust out of you.”
“Everyone should mind their own damn business. Like Solkar’s Reach. But try to make the world a better place than how they found it, not hide away. Imagine if everyone did that.”
“But they don’t.”
I crossed my hands in front of my chest. “That’s not good enough for me.”
“Then put on the crown and change the world.”
The fight left me in one shameful breath. “One person can’t change an entire continent.”
“Dria Vegheara did.”
That wasn’t comfort.
That was expectation.
“I’m not Dria Vegheara.”
“You’re the closest thing to her. Her blood runs in our veins. That precious, precious blood someone wants to drain from us.”
When I didn’t laugh–didn’t even look his way, staring at the hazy palaver portal that kept jumping again–Dax cleared his throat.
“Allie,” he said, all laughter gone. “If my travels have taught me anything, it’s that there are more terrible men than good ones in this world, and they play by very different rules. While you’re trying to do your best, they resort to the worst, usually behind closed, gilded doors that very few bother to open so the light can vanquish the darkness. Even when they do, most don’t care what’s hidden there. Or worse, praise those terrible men because they’d do the exact same thing if given the chance. And mostreallywant that chance. Would lie, steal, and murder for it. You need to accept that–”
I bristled once more. “I don’t–”
