As the magic fades, Sophos wipes a hand across his brow, shielding his face. It strikes me as a gesture of deep shame. He isn’t a man used to being exposed like this, least of all in front of a room full of people who wouldn’t mind seeing him dead.
“It’s alright, Sophos,” I say. “Your secrets are safe with us.”
He looks uncertain but doesn’t argue. In just a few seconds, his mask slides back into place, and he’s the inscrutable bearer once more.
“Are you going to move ahead with the challenge?” he asks.
“Yes. Later today, in fact.” I glance down at my dress; he nods in approval.
“You look appropriately regal,” he says. “But it may still take some work for you to undo the damage the Grand Bearer and Queen Oclanna have done to your reputation.”
“We’ve thought of that,” Harman says. “We have a few people to vouch for her.”
“Perhaps,” says Sophos. “But I doubt they will be as effective as having the endorsement of a Bearer of the High Temple.”
I stare at him as Damia leans forward. “That’s why we got here as fast as we could. He’s going to speak against Caledon at court.”
Harman sucks air through his teeth. “That’s going to put a big target on your back,” he warns Sophos.
Sophos studies Harman. “I’ve had a target on my back since I had my very first doubt about the Grand Bearer. Every day since then has been a tightrope walk to survive. I thought you, in particular, would understand the choice I’m making today is easier than that.”
“What do you mean?” Harman asks.
He looks between my brother and me. “From what you said moments ago, it seems you’re the head of the Hand. Correct?” he says calmly.
Harman holds his gaze. “Correct.”
Sophos nods. “We’ve heard whispers about you at the Temple. You must see that fighting a battle in the shadows is harder than stepping into the light and speaking the truth.”
“I do,” Harman admits.
Sophos closes his eyes. “It will be a relief to shed the lies at last.”
I stand, smoothing my skirts. “I think we’ll all be relieved when this is over.”
Leon pulls the chair further out for me so I can step away from the table. As I pass him, I remember what he promised upstairs.When you’re queen…
When, not if. I hold tight onto that certainty. Today I’ll take Trova’s throne, and after that, my friends won’t have to hide or live their lives in secret. We’ll all step into the light at last.
It feels appropriate that we ride to Elmere palace in broad daylight. At first, I wear a glamour and a cloak, though only until we reach the long avenue that leads us up to the palace. I don’t want to get arrested before we’re even in sight of the gates. But when we spy the bronze archways up ahead, curving into the leaves and acorns of an oak tree, I throw my cloak off and remove the magic masking my face.
Once upon a time, I looked at those symbols on the palace entrance and felt inadequate. They’re meant to remind people of the strength of monarchy—sturdy as an oak—yet when I first clapped eyes on them, I believed I was weak and helpless. How wrong I was. Back then, I couldn’t ever fathom the strength I’ve found within myself in the days since.
And now I need all that nerve and courage to keep moving toward the looming palace, toward the confrontation that will decide who wears the crown. It helps that I have my intimidating escort with me, every one of them a force to be reckoned with. Including Will, who joined us in the old royal guard uniform he’s kept all these years.
Now that we’re making no attempt to hide, people we pass stop to stare at the odd collection of people—a woman in a red dress, surrounded by burly soldiers, a royal guardsman and, strangest of all, Bearer Sophos. When we’re a few yards from the gates and the fae removetheirglamours, the stares become gasps and shouts of alarm. Suddenly, it’s very clear who I am.
The guards stiffen as we approach, obviously expecting some kind of attack. However, as Will and Sophos move to the front of our group, confusion spreads. The bearer is instantly recognizable, and Will looks like one of their own.
“Fetch the captain, quick,” one of the guards, a sandy-haired man, barks to another, who sprints up toward the palace.
“Halt!” the sandy-haired guard orders us, drawing his sword. The noise of the growing crowd threatens to drown out his words until Sophos lifts his hand.
As his power fills the air, silence envelops them all.
“Go ahead, my love,”Leon prompts.
I swallow, arranging my face into what I hope is a regal expression as I project my voice for everyone to hear.
