Page 28

Mother’s steady, strutting march continues, leading her contingent directly to the royal wing. It’s not far from where the princesses are partitioned, and I’ve explored sufficiently to know that each of the realms has their own quarters set aside and maintained in the Citadel for just this purpose.

It’s not a surprise, then, that she strides through the place as if she owns all of it instead of being a guest here, her presence demanding that the very walls of the palace bow before her.

She enters the lavish suite assigned to Heald, taking her quarters like the queen she is, as if this opulent cage is merely an extension of her own stronghold.

I have little doubt my mother understands the nature of this concession, however, and for once, I wish she’d be honest with me and not hide what she’s thinking.

The heavy door swings shut behind us, cutting off the rest of the palace from our presence. The silence, after my mother’s performance, that turns to dead quiet the moment we’re alone, is almost deafening.

The opulent room is decorated in gold and purple, the badge of Heald sewn into fabric and embedded in the marble floor, declaring this is sovereign territory, but I have no illusions. Mother spins on me, pinning me with her eyes and her intensity, all pretext evaporated.

The space between us is suddenly thick with unspoken words, with the weight of her unpredictable presence.

A quiet movement intervenes. My aunt steps between us, her face shedding its stoic mask to reveal genuine concern. Her dark eyes, so like my mother’s yet warm and thoughtful, meet mine before she turns her head to face down her sister.

“Jhanette,” she says. “Just listen, for once.”

Mother grunts. It’s the only form of agreement she’ll give, but it’s agreement, so it’s enough. I’m surprised she’s willing, though it’s clear to me as her sister and general turns back to me again that this is far from the first time they’ve had this conversation.

Mother crosses to the wine waiting for her on a low, wide table near the arching fireplace, helping herself as my aunt nods to me.

The total shift in persona is not unexpected, the queen’s bravado her favorite mask to wear with those she intends to dominate.

But here, in the quiet and in private, she reverts to the woman I know as my commander, my ruler, and the woman who thinks she’s in charge of my fate.

That’s changed, though, the last bit. And she’s not going to like it when she finds out.

Aunt ignores her sister’s activity in favor of pulling me into a tight, comforting hug. The familiar scent of her own clean, honest leather and a faint hint of woodsmoke and war is a solace she brings that I’ve never appreciated as much as I do now.

Her arms are strong, her touch grounding. I was in need of both.

“Remalla,” Aunt murmurs, her voice soft, full of warmth, so different from the harsh words I’ve heard since arriving in Winderose.

“ Are you all right?” Her eyes search my face, reading the tension I let her see.

“Word reached us on the road. That someone tried to kill you. In the baths.” The concern in her voice is real, a lifeline in this swirling chaos.

I step away. There’s no time for more than that anchoring moment of warmth before my mother’s tight, angry voice shatters the quiet of the royal quarters.

Jhanette is already through her first cup of wine, her eyes blazing as she turns to me. I knew she’d react badly to the news, but my aunt’s suggestion of worry still has me off balance.

“They’d best send a better assassin if they want to kill my daughter.

” She tosses back the wine before crushing the metal goblet in her hand.

It crashes to the floor when she drops it at her feet, a thin arc of leftover liquid glistening as it forms a trail like blood shed from the blade of a sword across the white marble floor.

The symbolism is striking. “I’m ashamed to admit it was a close thing,” I say. “Whoever came for me did so in a moment of weakness.”

“Weakness.” Mother shakes her head, striding to me and, in a further shock, hugs me.

My mother hugs me. Like she means it.

I’m barely able to respond in time, embracing her back, before she pushes me away, her strong hands circling my biceps and holding me in front of her.

“You survived, daughter,” she says, voice low and shaking with rage.

Or is it pride I see in her eyes? Have I actually, finally made my mother proud of me?

“That is more than they thought you would do. Now, tell me of your progress with the Overprince.”

That newfound connection to her is about to shatter. “He’s chosen not to choose,” I say.

She blinks. It’s such a rare thing to catch my mother by surprise, but I succeed. In fact, it takes her a spluttering moment to recover. “What does that even mean?”

My aunt chuckles. “That the clever princeling has an agenda of his own.” She eyes me as Mother swears, dropping her hands from my arms. I immediately miss her touch, the heat of contact. Am I so easily controlled out of a need for her to love me?

Yes. And that has to change if I’m going to stand against her.

“He must choose.” Mother’s still stunned.

“We didn’t factor in his stubbornness,” my aunt says, “or that the boy might want a say.” She laughs again. “A man with a spine, how refreshing.” She squints at me, still grinning. “And a thick cock to match?”

I flash her a grin. I don’t mean to. What I shared with Atlas isn’t their business. But she catches me off guard, and I can’t help it.

My aunt throws her head back and laughs.

Mother, on the other hand, is unamused.

“You will make him choose, daughter,” she says. “Your message tells me you know exactly why it’s so important that you ascend the throne.”

“I’ve learned far more than that,” I tell her. Mother pauses, despite herself. “A small force, a quick and decisive move. They are as soft as you think.”

She knows exactly what I’m suggesting. Do I mean it? I’m not sure, even if it did cross my mind. I’m offering alternatives on purpose to soften the edges of her demands. And as her eyes narrow, as my aunt inhales a breath to speak, my mother, my queen, waves her sister’s response off.

With her dark eyes locked on mine, Mother smiles, her predator rising to the surface.

“How grand it would be,” she breathes to me, making me a confidant in her pleasure, in her imagination.

This is not the first time she’s thought of it either, is it?

“They would be so helpless before us. How easy it would be to simply take what is ours.” Mother’s hand rises, snapping into a fist between us. “Glory to Heald.”

“Glory to Heald,” I murmur without thinking, my aunt echoing me, suddenly terrified of my mother all over again.

She laughs this time, but she’s the only one, before hugging me again.

“What a daughter I have made!” When she releases me, she’s softer, amused, and relaxed, all of her tension released.

I’ve pleased her and she embraces it, shedding her cloak, parts of her armor, the clang of releasing buckles under her breastplate loud in the quiet.

The heavy metal thuds to the carpet as she sheds it, one piece at a time, while my aunt and I watch, neither of us moving.

When Mother is done, she sprawls in her thin undershirt and leggings on the purple divan, gesturing for me to join her. I do, sitting beside her. She plays with the end of my braid, something she hasn’t done since I was very small.

“We will try diplomacy one more time,” she says to me as her sister sits across from us and listens. “One more chance I give them to honor the promises they made.”

“And when they fail?” Aunt’s cynicism has me wishing she’d try to be a bit less so. Because I know where this is going. I am a daughter of Heald, and I have spent my life knowing, I think.

“Then Remalla’s suggestion is our last step,” Mother says with that slow, wicked smile on her face.

“And we will take not just what was promised, but all of it.” She shrugs.

“They’ve had their chances. They will find out my patience has its limit at last. They will wish they did as they said they would before this is done. ”

Before I can respond, a servant enters, bowing low.

“Queen Jhanette,” she murmurs, her voice trembling, and now I’m anxious because what did she overhear?

Mother appears unconcerned, however, so I stay still and quiet and let the serving girl speak.

“The Overking has made time for you. He requests your presence. Immediately.”

Mother waves her off. “Tell him I’ll be with him once I’ve bathed,” she says. “So as not to offend his Chancellor’s delicate nose.”

The girl splutters. She can’t deliver that message. But the queen gives her no options.

As she hurries out, I sigh, a release I didn’t plan on.

Mother just squeezes my knee as she rises from the divan and stretches. I’ve seen her happy, eager. Right before battle. This is her war mode, and like it or not, the Overking had better prepare for just that.

She strides out, her aura of defiant power leaving with her, heading for the back of the chamber and through a doorway.

The wafting steam from within has to mean she’s at least gone to do as she claimed, her private bath waiting for her.

The sound of splashing reaches us through the closed door I’m staring at as though taking my eyes from it is impossible.

I’m frozen in place, locked here until my mother returns.

It’s my aunt’s touch, as she joins me on the divan, that finally frees me. “What have I done?”

She strokes stray hair back from my cheek with a grim smile.

“Nothing your mother hasn’t already considered at length,” she tells me.

“You’ve just suggested the very thing she’s longed for since her service and sacrifice was first betrayed.

” Aunt sighs and leans away, dark eyes far away. “If it comes to it, Remalla…”