Watching the brewing mixture of undignified fighting on both the continental and familial levels, Asan held up both hands, placating. “Might we go into the throne room? Or the council room? This conversation is a privileged one and we should not be discussing this in front of commoners.”
“Commoners?” Luca tilted his head. “What sort of king does not want to discuss matters that affect his peoplein frontof his people?”
King Asan gaped at Luca. “These are not my people.” Asan’s words were brisk, his hands flying out at the crowd, who stared back with tired eyes. “They should not be listening to delicate matters of state.”
“Well, they are my people, and they are his people, and I want them to hear every word that is said here,” Amarande informed Asan, leaning forward, and gesturing to Luca. “These people—our people—have just risked their lives fighting beside us against a king who would’ve ended them just as easily as he planned to endyouduring this conclave.”
Around them, their councilors and guards seemed to look anywhere but at Amarande and Luca. Anywhere but at the few remaining corpses, that was.
“Yes, soourpeople will listen, Your Highness,” Amarande continued, staring down her uncle and Asan. “And what do you care? We’ve already admitted the worst of it. We attacked Renard because we were provoked. He kidnapped my brother and my mother—my flesh and blood, and the greatest threat to my love. Never mind that Renard murdered my father. So while we are talking punishment, perhaps we should includethatdiscussion point, as it has been constantly omitted, which I find odd as it is more than relevant to our discussions considering that it startedthis whole turn of events.”
Asan’s dark eyes still skittered helplessly around the courtyard. He tried out his brilliant smile, placating. “Well then, we’ll add that point to our agenda, Your Highness. Now, you’ve said your piece, your people have heard you stand up to us, so let us—”
“We are not finished.” Luca cut off Asan with a sharp rebuke, his gentle soul walled off for a moment.
Zavier tossed up his hands. “Well, what else do you have to say? Get on with it. We have had a long journey and we have much to do, including discussing theseriousincident that has occurred within the Bellringe. You two are quite lucky we have not yet called for you to be jailed until your punishment has been determined, understand that.”
Amarande understood that she had the force of two angry armies at her fingertips and this man only had his personal guard and that much whined-about journey behind him, and Zavier knew it, too.Thatwas why she was not in the dungeons.
And so, she smiled back at her uncle, as fierce as she was joyful. Love was in her heart, and she projected it with all the strength of her being.
If love was the most powerful force on earth, surely this was right.
Amarande squeezed Luca’s hand, locked eyes with him, and spoke her truth.
“We deny the patriarchal monarchy and the imperial rule of the Sand and Sky.”
Her words were clear and precise—undeniable—as her voice carried up the high, glittering walls of this altar to kings long dead. A literal ivory tower where conniving men did everything in their power to retain that power and exactly nothing to truly help their people.
She was done with it.
Luca was done with it.
Their people were done with it.
The opposing kings did not blink. If anything, her uncle’s mouth curled into a sneer. Zavier watched her as if she were a petulant child.
“Too bad, Your Highness, you live it. You breathe it. You cannot deny the patriarchal monarchy or the imperialism of the Sand and Sky without denying yourself.”
Amarande jutted her chin at him like a blade. “Then I deny myself. I deny my station.”
In that moment, a weight sprang off her chest and spiraled toward the sky like a thousand doves.
“The Kingdom of Ardenia is no more. When I return, I will dissolve the kingdom, remove the monarchy, and allow the people to set up their own government. I will lead until another is chosen and then I will step out of the way.”
The kings balked, their councilors squirmed, and when verbal opposition finally came it was from her uncle’s lips. Of course.
“You cannot do that, Your Highness.”
“Why not? I am queen of a sovereign nation—but it’s not mine, it is my people’s. Ardenia no longer recognizes the compact of the Sand and Sky. We will be our own nation, under the stars, and the will of the people. Ardenians will no longer be conscripted into the army, no longer be forced into the mines, no longer be subject to my family or the wills and whims of the other nations upon this continent.”
Asan’s smile sagged—unsure, uneasy, yet somehow placating. Zavier visibly sputtered. “We do not allow you to leave.”
“I care not for what you allow anymore, Uncle. If you are calling for war, my army is here and will have exactly zero qualms answering your battle cry in this very moment.” She called his bluff. “Do youthink your cadre of men can take on the protectors of the Sand and Sky? I will tell you that after a long battle they do not tire but become even more inspired.”
Zavier narrowed his eyes. “Is that a threat, Amarande?”
“Yes. Be sure to take it as one.”
