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The first time I stood here, I was barely more than a child. I wore a crown of woven metal and silk robes dyed in the hues of flames. The people had cheered. They threw flowers. Now the only sound is the hiss of the Shaman’s breath as I draw closer.

I face him behind his wavering wall of Maulavi. His eyes dart between me and the Al’fa. He tries to lift his staff, but his hand trembles.

“You,” he hisses. “You should have been ash.”

I lift my chin. My voice is clear. Quiet. Final.

“I was.” I take another step, the platform groans beneath my weight. “But I rose again. Not in darkness. In truth.”

He snarls, but I see his fear. He sees what he was afraid of all along. That I carry the weight and hearts of my people. The fire of their resistance, now backed by the fury of the Zmaj. He sees he’s already lost.

“You speak lies,” he chokes. “You abandoned your people!”

“No.” I stop in front of the line of Maulavi. “You did. The moment you chose fear over love. Power over peace.”

His mouth opens, then closes. The Maulavi shift uncertainly.

Behind me, Khiara whispers to someone—Vapas, maybe—soft, broken words I don’t quite catch. Janara’s footsteps scrape closer. The Al’fa doesn’t move, but I feel him, a pillar of heat and fury at my back.

“You took my home,” I say, voice low. “My people. My name. But not anymore.”

And just like that, the stage holds its breath. The square is silent. Even the bells are still. The Shaman’s hand drops to his side, the staff clinking weakly against the stone. He opens his mouth again—but I cut him off.

“This city is mine!”

43

RANI

The words settle into the stone beneath my feet like a blade thrust into a body. Final. Inarguable. The Shaman flinches. It’s only a moment. It’s brief but I don’t miss it. He curls his lips into a snarl.

“Foolish little girl,” he says.

The Maulavi stare with dead, empty eyes. Though I search for it, there isn’t a hint of pride or life, no matter how suppressed, in them. They are completely under his control.

The crowd watches in electric silence, tension coiling tighter with every heartbeat.

“I was a fool,” I pronounce, pitching my voice to carry so all can hear my admission.

“You march lizards into our last hold?” The Shaman raises one gnarled finger and shakes it towards the Al’fa at my side. “You ally with our ancient enemies and think that the Gods will not take notice of your betrayal? Fool!”

“I said Iwasa fool,” I correct him. “I no longer am.”

A murmur rushes over the crowd like sand shifting in a strong wind. The Maulavi tighten their grips on their weapons. The Zmaj army silently spreads around the outskirts of the square. I don’t see Rosalind and the humans, but all my attention is on the Shaman. The confrontation I have dreamed of for so many dark and lonely nights.

“See?” he screeches, playing to the crowd. “Did I not protect you? She sells us out to the lizards! The cold-bloods who have decimated our families. Our loved ones. Betraying all that it means to be Urr’ki.”

I smile. His eyes bulge, almost comically, as if they might burst from their sockets. His lip curls into a snarl which only makes me smile more. The murmurs of the crowd are restless. They look at the Zmaj blocking them in but it’s not only Zmaj amongst them. Maulavi are spreading through the crowd.

I turn from the Shaman, hands clasped before myself and head held high. I walk to the jagged edge of the broken stage to face my people. Silent, I look at them. Meeting as many eyes as I can before speaking.

“Urr’ki,” I say. “It is true that I have failed you.”

Shocked gasps of surprise rise. They stir, shifting around as they look to each other in shock that I would admit such. I am their Queen. A Queen is never wrong. Impossible.

“No!” someone yells from the back. “Queen! Our Queen! Ours!”

The chant rises, catching on like flames licking at tinder but I raise my hands and it stops before it fully catches.