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And here is where she sees it. At her tone, the Queen’s demeanor changes by degrees. She recalculates, restrategizes. Now that Dawsyn knows where to look, she sees it plainly. Queen Alvira is a plotter – a masterful one.

“No aid was offered to us in the south,” Dawsyn continues, “and yet you have so many guards here at the palace.”

“I think I mentioned before, my dear, that we humans are no match for the Glacians. Best to seek shelter. All who live in Terrsaw know how to prepare and take cover if ever those beasts decide to leave their perch on the mountain, including our guards.” Her lips press together grimly, as though she regrets that she cannot do more.

“We believe they came to seek you,” Cressida adds. “We are exceedingly lucky they were unsuccessful.” But unlike her wife, the words are not convincing.

“But theyweresuccessful,” she tells them. “They found me beside the river in the forest.”

The Queens still. Whatever platitude Alvira was about to offer falls dry on her tongue, and she quickly shuts her mouth instead.

Cressida’s eyes flit to her wife’s and back again, widening. “Good God! How did you escape?”

“I did not escape,” Dawsyn says. “We killed them. You will find their bodies rotting on the riverbank. Five of them.”

If the glass ceiling shattered in this moment, it would do little to draw the interest of those present. Cressida looks skeptical, Alvira merely unsure. The guards by the entrance openly gape.

“We?” Alvira asks. “You mean, you and your friend here?”

“Yes,” Ryon answers.

“Tell me again how humans are no match for Glacians,” Dawsyn says, and her words are pointed, edged in steel.

The Queen gasps. “I am sorry you had to face them once more, but I must say, I am impressed.”

“Do you know what I wonder?” Dawsyn asks. “I wonder how they knew where to look.” The implication is clear, and she sees it hit its mark in the Queen, her mind absorbing it, turning it over. Dawsyn imagines Alvira guessing at how much she already knows. “I’d wager that you gave our whereabouts to the King himself.”

The woman blanches, as though slapped, and Dawsyn is impressed by the mastery of it. “Why would I do such a th–”

“You sold an entirevillageto Glacia fifty years ago,” Dawsyn says. “I imagine one more human would feel like a small price by comparison.”

The Queen’s mouth snaps shut, and with it, the mask she dons slips away. It is a long time before she speaks. In the silence, the guards shuffle uncomfortably in the periphery.

Finally, the Queen holds her hands out, and they quiver. “I did. I did and will not deny it,” she says, her voice weak. “And there is not a day that passes that I do not regret it.”

Dawsyn’s blood heats inside her at the admission, at the poor attempt for penance.

“But I’d do it again, I’m afraid.”

Dawsyn balks. “What did you say?”

“My dear,” the Queen utters, tiredly shaking her head, “I know you must think me heinous, and I do not disagree with you, but whatever decisions I made, I made them knowing I was giving Terrsaw the very best chance of survival. You are young, and you have not been raised to know the histories of this place, but…” She pauses and turns her eyes to the ceiling. “Perhaps it is time you knew it all, before you cast me as a villain.”

Dawsyn bites her tongue and tastes blood. She knows she must hear it. She must bide her time and listen, hear what they say, await the gaps.

“Years before the village in the south fell, the Glacians raided Terrsaw. They came to our mountain long after the kingdom of Terrsaw was settled, and when they did, they used our lands like man does a river. They fished our people when they liked and took many. Children were snatched from the streets. Families would wake to the sound of their roofs caving in, and all would be taken. No one was safe. No one slept soundly. They flew quicker than an arrow. The guards managed to bring one down every so often, but it wasn’t nearly enough. We were out of our depth.

“Those years were nothing but chaos and panic. Our guards were sent to the mountain to rescue the ones taken, and all they found was death. The people screamed for the palace to do something, to protect them, and the palace was silent. A king ruled then, and I was one of the advisors of the royal council. We watched him scramble, and when he asked for our guidance, we failed him. People tried to flee by the dozen, but there was nothing beyond Terrsaw but ocean. We were – and still are – trapped within the reach of the Glacians.

“They couldn’t be defeated, and they would never stop their attack. They needed humans. Our saving grace was that they could leave the mountain only fleetingly. The warmer climate weakened them. They could never entirely overthrow us, and we could never overthrow them. But I knew we could not continue to let them pick us off like rats in a cage.

“No one tried to speak with the Glacians. No one thought to hatch a deal. If so many of us were to die anyway, was it possible for us to make an offering and leave the rest to live in true peace? Could we spare the numbers bound to die so that the vast majority could enjoy life as they should, sending their children out to play, hunting the forests without fear, laying their heads down at night, knowing they were safe? I hated myself for seeing it. I was your age, Dawsyn. I was young, but I had lived enough years in fear that I knew I could not endure many more, and neither could the rest of the kingdom. People were already hanging themselves rather than facing such a life. Entire families were found dead at their dining tables – poisons offered them eternal safety when the palace couldn’t.”

Queen Alvira takes a shuddering breath. She seems wrought with emotion. Dawsyn guesses the Queen has spoken these convictions to herself over and over, absolving herself, clearing her conscience, but rarely out loud.

“But of course, the King wouldn’t hear of such a thing. He was shortsighted, and stubborn. He cared more for his honor than he did for human life. He told me never to breathe a word of it again, but the Glacians kept coming, our people kept disappearing, and I could no longer sit and bear witness to it.

“I sent a message back to Glacia. I pinned a letter to one of the palace’s hunters and sent him to the Boulder Gate to wait. King Vasteel descended from Glacia himself. He entered the palace through this very ceiling, smashing it to pieces, and when our King ordered the guards to attack, Vasteel picked him up and threw him down at his feet like a sack of grain. He was dead in an instant.