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The day after brings a military inspection. I stand straight-backed beside Agnar as we review the troops. The soldiers’ eyes briefly flick to me. Worried about being led by a woman? Believing the rumors that I destroyed magic? Concerned we will be attacked simply because I am their queen?

“They respect you.” Agnar bumps me with his elbow.

I give a small shake of my head. “They tolerate me.”

His crude noise almost tempts me to smile. “No, truly. They would die for you. Every last one of them.”

“That’s exactly what I’m trying to prevent.” The words come out sharper than intended.

Agnar’s eyebrows rise, but he says nothing more.

Back in my chambers, I trade my formal gown for a comfortable pale yellow tunic and breeches. Then I head to my private sitting room and wave a flame into existence in the fireplace so I can read in comfort.

Accounts of battles from centuries past. Strategies for deploying troops against navy, air, and land troops. Prayers and countermeasures. The insights from generals whose names have been lost to the ages.

I fall asleep at the table and dream of Sterling with empty black eyes and blood on his hands.

The pattern continues, day after day. Council meetings where I speak with authority I don’t feel. Public appearances where I smile until my face aches. Late nights poring over books until the words dance before my eyes.

It’s still not enough.

I sit in my public sitting room, surrounded by towers of books and scrolls unrolled across every surface. Astrid, ever my dedicated assistant, is busy penning replies from my notes. I’m deep into A History of the Five-Fold Wars when the door opens.

I don’t glance up. In just a few more pages, I might find something useful about countering divine influence.

“You’re trying too hard to be something you’re not.”

Sterling’s voice cuts through my concentration. My head jerks up, and I find him leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed. His mouth is set in a hard line.

“You mean a queen?” The fear that’s been my constant companion flares. “You think I can’t be a good queen?”

He pushes away from the door as he gestures to the disarray around me. “You don’t need to be this kind of queen.”

I survey the mess I’ve created in my attempt to prep. “What kind of queen should I be? The kind who doesn’t know her kingdom’s history? Who can’t quote precedent when the council challenges her decisions? Who doesn’t understand the first thing about⁠—”

“The kind who knows her own mind.” Sterling moves closer, cautious not to disturb any of my carefully arranged piles. “The kind who trusts her instincts. The kind who brought peace to all kingdoms not through dusty old laws, but through courage and kindness.”

I turn back to my book. “That’s a pretty story. But pretty stories don’t run kingdoms.”

“Lark.” His voice takes on that alluring timbre that still causes my heart to skip, even after everything we’ve been through. “You’re burying your head in history books, but we need to learn what’s happening with the gods in the here and now.”

I tap the heavy tome before me, refusing to look up. “There was strategy about dealing with the gods in the Five-Fold Wars. I’m sure I’ll get to it…soon.”

Sterling paces the room, careful to avoid stepping on scrolls. “I hope so. Because I’m fairly certain our issues aren’t going to be solved by fretting over what everyone thinks. Not when you can change their perception through action.”

That gets my attention. There’s something in his voice that triggers a memory.

I offer a tired smile. “You sound like your mother.”

His expression softens. “Good.”

“She told me something like that once, and it stuck with me. ‘A leader’s first responsibility is to define reality.’” The Dowager Queen might have been flighty, but she had moments of startling clarity. Remembering that conversation with Alannah about what it meant to be a queen, to truly lead people, brings tears to my eyes. “I wish she were still here to guide us.”

“So do I. And that sounds just like her.” Sterling runs a hand through his glossy hair, a rare gesture of uncertainty that snags my attention more than his words.

Before I can question him further, Astrid opens the door and offers a quick bow. “Your Highness, you have a visitor.”

I’m about to say I’m too busy when a small figure darts past. A little girl with blond hair and bright blue eyes. Rose. The tiny ball of fire hovering above her shoulder casts dancing shadows across her freckled face.