Chapter 38

 

Zara sat in silence through the entire car ride to the south. Her stomach was an angry knot of anxiety that not even Magnus’s reassuring hand in hers could stave. The scenery blurred, an unseen smudge of dull coloring toying with the bile roiling at her throat. She shut her eyes, but the queasy sensation persisted, giving a loud voice to the ringing in her ears and the nagging doubt at the back of her mind.

What did she know about ruling a kingdom? How could someone who had been a prisoner her entire life help anyone when she hadn’t been able to help herself? What if she failed?

Question after question spilled around her, each one chipping away at her calm, at her confidence. It was only sheer willpower that kept her from begging Magnus to turn around. It was the knowledge that it needed to be done no matter how she felt about it. Being a queen was in her blood. It was what she was born to be. Generations of her line couldn’t be wrong, could they?

“You okay?”

She shook her head.

“It’s going to be okay.” He gave her fingers a light squeeze. “I’ll be with you the entire time. I promise.”

Despite everything, that actually made her feel a little better. Magnus wouldn’t let her fail. He wouldn’t let her embarrass herself. And, if she had one person in her corner, just one, she knew she could accomplish anything.

Yet she still couldn’t stop shivering.

They didn’t go through the forest. Magnus took them right to the front doors.

The kingdom sat in a crater, a deep valley surrounded by mountains and wilderness. In the wake of bright sunlight, the gold gleamed with blinding purpose, a punishing beacon isolated from the world. The car dipped on the paved road, rolling fluidly down the incline to the border of her new home.

They stopped at a gate, as polished and golden as everything else, but the walls on either side were white, stubbornly kept clean. It rose a daunting twenty feet, passing the top of the tallest tree; the walls of a fortress.

Two men in loincloths and armed with swords, stopped their progress through. They eyed the vehicle as Magnus came to a rolling stop.

One of the guards stepped around to the driver side window. Magnus rolled it down and the man crouched slightly to peer inside.

“Business?” Shrewd, brown eyes peered past Magnus to Zara and narrowed.

He didn’t know her. And why would he? She hadn’t been there long enough the first time for Kyros to introduce her to anyone, but a handful of guards. She was virtually a stranger to these people.

“I’m bringing your queen home,” Magnus replied easily. “Let us in.”

There was new interest in the widening of his gaze as it flicked back to Zara. In his mind, he was trying to remember what they’d told him about the princess. There hadn’t been much, except her violet eyes and white hair, and resemblance to Richella.

He jerked back and immediately dropped to one knee, vanishing entirely from view. “Your Highness.”

Ill prepared, Zara could think of nothing to say. Thankfully, words were not necessary when the guard leaped to his feet and motioned for the gates to be opened.

The iron loops swung inward in a silent sweep and they were moving again, diving deeper into the unknown.

“This isn’t the way we came last time,” she said as the car was brought around a curve, hugging a large water fountain planted in the center of the driveway to stop at the base of a series of stairs.

“Ready?”

She wasn’t, but she rolled out of her seat and stood facing the gleaming surface of her new palace. She vaguely wondered how often her mother had climbed those stairs, how often she stepped through those doors and walked those halls. Had her father visited? How had they met? Had he really loved her?

It was a strange train of thought to be having, but they poured in, one after the other, all the things that hadn’t even occurred to her before, things that held no relevance to her being there.

“Sweetheart?” Magnus’s hand, warm, reassuring, an unwavering strength settled on her lower back.

“I’m scared.” It probably wasn’t a queenly thing to admit, but if there was anyone she trusted, it was him. She knew he would never steer her wrong. “It’s all going to change once I walk through those doors.”

His lips pressed into the side of her head. “Nothing wrong with change.”

“There is if I do it wrong.” She sighed. “These people don’t even know me. Why should they listen to anything I have to say?”

“Because you’re going to walk in there like you own the place. You’re going to keep your chin up and be the queen I met that first day in the Isle of Cree, the one who wasn’t going to take shit from anyone.” He lightly tapped her chin until she was almost looking down the length of her nose at him. “Now, go in there and get your kingdom.”

Insides jittering, she sucked in a breath. She squared her shoulders and balled her fists. He was right. As hard as it would be, she could do it. She had to.

She gave a slight nod and he immediately stepped back. His frame took a stance behind her shoulder, a dark presence watching over her. Her own dragon. The thought brought a grin to her lips that she tucked securely behind an air of authority.

She took her first step forward. Then another.

Magnus followed, one pace behind her.

“No,” she whispered, never looking back. “Beside me. They need to see their king as well.”

She didn’t see so much as felt him falter. She felt his mind stumble, thoughts scattering as it seemed to dawn on him for the first time where his place would be. It would have been comical if she wasn’t focusing all her concentration on not tripping.

At the base of the stairs, the doors above swung open. A wiry man with very few patches of white hair bustled out, far more dressed than anyone she’d seen in that place. The toga style wrap had a thick knot on one knobby shoulder and was fastened around his tiny waist with a leather cord. He wore sandals on his feet that clattered as he sprinted down to greet them.

“Your Majesty.” He bowed low. “Forgive me. I would have been waiting if I had been alerted of your arrival.” He straightened and pushed the knot back into place on his shoulder. “I am Makan, Chief Adviser to the King and Queen.”

Kyros hadn’t introduced her to a Chief Adviser. That seemed like something he probably should have done, considering. Maybe he would have if she’d been there longer, after he’d insured she had no choice, but to stay.

“Did Kyros tell you about me?”

The sound of her voice directly in his head gave him a violent start. His watery brown eyes bulged on his thin face, but he quickly gathered himself and straightened his shoulders.

“He did. I was set to meet you the morning after your arrival, but His Highness thought it would be better if he eased your transition himself. I’m sure we would have met eventually for your coronation ceremony.”

“Coronation?”

“The crowning, Your Majesty. To introduce you to the court. At the time, you would have been dubbed the princess of El Dorado.”

“And now?”

To his credit, he only hesitated a split second before answering, “Queen, Your Majesty.”

So far, it didn’t seem as though she would get a lot of trouble as the outsider coming in to takeover. It had been a fear of hers, to get questioned and turned away. But Makan knew about her, which would hopefully make the transition quick.

“When will the coronation be?”

Makan splayed his hands. “A week, maybe two. Just until all the preparations are made and you’ve memorized the oath, and your dress—”

“Tonight.”

Makan sputtered to a stop. “Forgive me, Your Grace. But I think I heard you wrong. Did you say tonight?”

“You heard me correctly. Tonight. I want it done straight away.”

His mouth moved rapidly without making a sound. His gaze jumped to Magnus, but got no help or sympathy there.

“Is that a problem?” Zara asked.

He hastily bowed his head. “No, no, of course not, Your Majesty. It’s just that something like this requires time and preparation. It must be perfect.”

“Tell me, Makan, since Kyros was captured, who has been running the kingdom? Who is in charge?”

His downward tilt of his chin said it before he did. “As per our laws, when the throne is left vacant, the Chief Adviser will take the throne until a more suitable heir is located.”

“The throne has been without its rightful ruler for two days, two days where our enemies could have already slaughtered their way to claim it. The coronation will be tonight and you will see to it that everything goes as planned.”

Somewhere beneath the folds of sagging skin beneath his chin, his throat bobbed. “Of course, Your Highness. I will see to those preparations immediately.”

Satisfied, Zara started past him up the stairs. “Good. I want the entire kingdom present, every man and woman. No children under the legal age. Offer a place for parents to leave their children during the event where they will be safe and watched.”

Makan scurried after her. “It will be done.”

At the top of the stairs, she stopped and waited for both men to join her, her heart pounding in her chest. She wondered if they could hear it. It seemed to be echoing in her bones, yet when she spoke, her voice surprised her by remaining firm.

“My family will be arriving for the announcement. I would like them brought straight to the palace and made comfortable.” Not waiting for another nod, she marched straight into the palace.

It looked exactly as it had when she’d been there last, which really shouldn’t have surprised her. It had only been a few days, yet it felt different. It only stood to reason that it should at least look different as well.

She pushed the feeling aside and turned her focus back to Makan.

“Have a messenger sent to the west. I’d like an audience with the queen before the coronation.”

He bowed once more. “I will see to it, but before we can proceed, there are a few papers that require your attention, a few, small legalities before the ceremony can go forward. If we start now, we might be able to get through most of them before tonight.”

“Of course.” But she paused to turn to Magnus. “Will you be okay?”

“I’m not going anywhere.” His arms lifted to fold across his chest. “After what happened with Valkyrie, you’re not going anywhere alone. Consider me your royal bodyguard until I know you’re safe.”

Relief swarmed her. Not because she worried someone would try to hurt her, but because he knew more about the Draconian laws and customs then she did. His input could come in use.

With a nod, she followed Makan in the opposite direction of the areas Kyros had shown her. The bed chambers were replaced with offices, libraries, and parlors. Walls were stamped with glass doors that opened to wide verandas and warm, summer air. Courtyards of lush green splayed beneath stairs of gold, spanning into the distance until it returned to the embrace of the forest. Fountains bubbled, extravagant structures of rulers before, spraying droplet of clear water into the air. Each arch caught the morning sun and glittered like diamonds as it broke back into the basin. Even from a great distance, Zara could smell their clean scent tangled with the smell of cut grass and thriving foliage. The simplicity of it stopped her and she found herself at the edge of a great patio that spanned wide on either side of her. Her fingers curled into the thick square of gold wedged along the edges, creating a barrier between her and the Eden below.

“Majesty?”

“Did you know my mother?” she asked, ignoring his subtle urging.

“Princess Richella? Yes, of course. I’ve been Chief Adviser for three kings and one queen … excluding yourself.”

Zara turned away from the view and squinted at the man. “Did you know about me?”

To his credit, Makan only shifted slightly. His long, spidery fingers knotted in front of him as though prepared to pray.

“I did, Your Majesty.”

Despite having braced herself, his answer drove into her gut like a fist. “Who else?”

“No one else. Her Highness Tiana was very insistent that your existence remain within the immediate family.”

“Did you advise her on what to do with me?”

He visibly stiffened his spine, which served as the best answer. “I offered my counsel to the best of my abilities.”

“Which were?” She tilted her head to one side. “What did you tell my grandmother to do with me?”

“Your Majesty—”

“What did you tell her?” Zara pressed, refusing to relent.

He pulled in a breath that expanded his thin chest. “That it would be best if the child … you, Your Grace, if you were … quietly removed.”

“Killed,” Magnus clarified. “You wanted her killed.”

“It was a very difficult time,” Makan rushed on. “A matter such as this could have ruined the family name.”

“Because incest doesn’t do that,” Magnus muttered under his breath.

Neither paid him any attention.

“I was five when I was put through the auction, where was I before that?”

A crease formed between Makan’s bushy eyebrows. “Her Highness had you taken right after you were born and you were not seen again. I assumed that perhaps she’d taken my advice.”

“How unfortunate for you,” she murmured.

“Not at all, Your Grace.”

“So, now that I am here,” she said. “What does the family name have to say about that?”

“It’s unheard of.” No hesitation, as if he’d been waiting all along to blurt it out. “The Draconian royal bloodline has been pure since the beginning of time. It has never been contaminated by an outside race. Your blood will cause a great deal of controversy amongst our people, especially given your chosen mate. That, combined with your demon blood will not ensure proper royal children.”

“Well, that’s going to have to change.” She pushed past the men and headed back inside. “Is there anyone who will oppose my place on the throne? Anyone who stands a chance at winning?” she added.

“No, Your Grace, you are the sole heir.” He hesitated, eyes squinting. “There is a nephew, not blood related, of course, but your grandmother was very fond of him.”

“Where’s the office?”

The office, much to Zara’s surprise, was nearly absent of gold. The décor held only the accent, subtle trimmings of the precious metal. Everything else from the giant desk silhouetted against the enormous window to the wall of bookshelves lining the walls was white. A compact sitting area had been created on the opposite end, a single sofa facing a hearth. It was not at all what she’d come to expect of the place.

“Was this my grandmother’s office?”

It wasn’t exactly a hunch. The enormous oil painting of the former queen hanging over the fireplace had given it away, but she found herself asking anyway.

“Yes.” Makan shut the door behind Magnus. “Please.” He motioned towards the desk and the twin chairs facing it.

Zara bypassed the chairs entirely and went straight to the gilded, high back chair on the other side. She sat, spine straight as Magnus took a stand at her right shoulder. Makan took her other side and pulled a folder over from a very large stack. He flipped it over and produced a quill from one of the drawers.

Zara studied the scribbled black lines of meaningless words she didn’t understand and felt her stomach whine. Her fingers trembled around the quill.

“I will go over these while you make preparations for tonight and see that my requests are met,” she said in avoidance. “And can you make sure Magnus and I have proper attires?”

The older man inclined his head and scurried quickly from the room.

Zara waited until she was sure he wouldn’t return straight away before peering anxiously up at Magnus.

“I don’t know what this says,” she confessed. “I don’t know how to read.”

The confession filled her cheeks with hot crimson. It burned behind her eyes and tightened her throat with shame. In this world, his world, reading was a common and necessary ability. Even their children knew how; she’d seen Otis reading things to Alec with no effort. But the curves and points never made sense to her. Most of the time, she could simply gather what something said by reading another person’s mind, but this wasn’t a useless sign. This was something that required her full understanding.

“Okay, well...” Magnus stalked around to the other side of the desk and returned a second later with one of the chairs. He placed it next to her and sat. “Let’s see.”

The majority of what Magnus read out loud to her were deeds for various pieces of land, businesses, and properties, but beneath the dull legal nonsense was the declaration of her claim to the throne. It made her swear to put the wellbeing and safety of her kingdom first, and uphold the traditions and customs of her forefathers.

Having no desire to do any such thing, Zara tucked it unsigned beneath the pile and closed the file.

“He might check,” Magnus warned.

“I will sign it, just not until a few changes have been made.” She pushed to her feet and stood facing him. “Thank you.”

Without taking his eyes off her face, he captured her hand and pulled the knuckles to his lips. His warm breath fanned over her skin, sending a ripple of heat up her arm.

“Anything for you, Your Grace.”

Zara wrinkled her nose. “I don’t know how I feel about you calling me that.”

Grinning, he rose and took her by the waist. His mouth lowered to hers only to stop short mere inches when a soft knock interrupted his descent. Both their heads turned to the door.

“Yes?”

Makan poked his head inside. “I apologize for the interruption, Your Majesty, but Her Highness Serinda of the west has arrived. Shall I let her in?”

Zara pulled out of Magnus’s hold and nodded. “Please.”

Serinda and the same two warriors from the previous night entered the room clad in their black armor and fierce expressions. None of them bowed, but Serinda did incline her head in respect.

“Your Majesty,” she said.

“Thank you for coming.” Zara motioned to the single chair left on the opposite side of her desk. “Makan. Magnus. If you could please give us the room.”

Makan left without further prompting. Magnus hesitated, but he bowed his head once and stepped from the room. The two warriors followed after a dismissive wave from their queen.

Once completely alone, Zara took her own seat and met the blue eyes of the woman across from her.

She was beautiful, like her sister. Her dark hair was twisted into a thick plait over one shoulder and her intimidating gaze sat perfectly centered on an oval face. She wore no makeup, no jewelry, except the weapons strapped to her hips and back, yet that seemed to only enhance her allure.

“I see you got your throne,” Serinda said evenly.

“Yes, thank you for your assistance the other night. It was greatly appreciated.”

Serinda nodded. “Was there something you required, Your Grace?”

“Zara, please.” She offered the other woman a small smile. “At least in private, especially since we are in a sense family.”

One thin eyebrow lifted. “Are we?”

“Your sister is married to my husband’s brother. I like to think that makes us distant families.”

Serinda made a soft humming sound that could have been mistaken for contemplation, except Zara saw the animosity thick as tar clouding the other woman’s judgment. She could see the stubborn refusal to accept anything Zara said, simply because she was Magnus’s mate. It didn’t seem to matter that Serinda and Magnus could never be together. Harvesters had to marry their own and had to maintain their virginities until that time. Magnus wasn’t one of them and Serinda wasn’t a rule breaker. She didn’t have Valkyrie’s backbone for it. It was something she’d always envied about her sister.

Zara pushed out of the woman’s head, ignoring the prickle of annoyance along the back of her own neck. “Aside from family, the reason I asked you here today is to extend a hand of friendship to the west, a unity between our houses, a new start.”

“Your people raped my sister.”

She’d been expecting the blunt retort. It was the second reason Serinda hated her.

“While I whole heartedly regret what took place before my time, I can assure you nothing like that will ever happen in my kingdom now that I am queen.”

The woman refused to be swayed. Her resentment was an echoing force resonating through every hollow of her soul. It didn’t matter what Zara said, it wouldn’t make a difference.

“You dislike me because you’re in love with my husband,” Zara stated, opting to just get it all out on the table. “I understand. He’s a strong and protective man who cares deeply for his family. He’s a brave and honorable warrior. Those are things that draw you to him, but he loves me. I can’t change that and I won’t, but this is beyond simply loving the same man. This is about protecting our people from the enemy. You are an incredible queen, kind, understanding, and brave. Your people love and respect you. Your warriors are second to none. I respect you as a woman and as a queen. It would be an honor to have your warriors fight alongside mine no matter what may come. However, if you are unable to see past circumstances that cannot be altered, I will understand.”

Serinda studied her with the same cool shrewdness that reminded Zara of Valkyrie. The penetrating stare would have made a lesser creature fidget, but Zara recognized the attempt to make her uncomfortable and met it without flinching.

“I will accept your friendship only because this war is going to take all of us,” Serinda said at last. “And to be clear, I don’t love your husband. I’m a Harvester. We don’t love.”

Zara contained her grin behind a polite inclination of her head. “Of course, but there is one other thing—the return of Kyros.”

Serinda bulked. Her big eyes blinked.

“Excuse me?”

“He is a king of the south, a member of my family and I will see to his punishment.”

“Absolutely not.”

“I’m afraid it wasn’t a request, Your Highness. As queen of the Draconian people, it is my duty to set an example. Kyros didn’t only betray the north, but his own people. He must answer for those crimes as well, but it will be done by their queen.” She sat back. “The west is welcome to be present during the trial and execution and the north may carry out the sentence, but it will be done here in the south and it will be done tonight.”

Serinda squinted at her the way one might a complex puzzle, but Zara remained firm in her decision. She met the other woman’s gaze squarely and waited.

“Consider it a gift.” She shoved to her feet. “A token of our newfound friendship. I will have Kyros delivered within the hour, but if this turns out to be a trick to have your king returned...”

Zara rose as well. “I already have a king and it is not Kyros.”

Satisfied, Serinda inclined her head and started for the doors.

“Your Highness,” Zara called after her. “I really would be delighted if you joined us for the ceremony.”

The Harvester neither agreed, nor disagreed when she opened the door and slipped out.

No sooner had she left when Magnus and Makan appeared on the threshold. Both studied her, waiting for an explanation.

“The south just became allies with the west,” she declared, rounding the table. “And as a gift, they will return Kyros to us.”

“Wait, why is Kyros being returned?” Magnus demanded.

“Because he is a king of the south,” Zara pointed out, coming to a stop before the pair. “And we can’t allow outsiders to simply waltz through our gates, take our kings and queens when it suits them. Harvesters or not, we do not need them to punish our people for us. We will do it ourselves.” Leaving it at that, she focused on the Chief Adviser. “Is everything prepared?”

Makan bowed at the waist. “Yes, Your Grace.”

“Set another chair at my table for Serinda and the northern house.” She rubbed the tips of her fingers over her brow where a pinch had formed. “Is my dress ready?”

“Yes, Your Grace, it’s all in your room.”

“Show me.”

The room Makan took them to was in the complete opposite direction of the one Kyros had given her the first night. The chamber was an entire house on its own with three levels of space. Like the office and her old bedroom, the overuse of gold stopped at the door. Glossy ivory and marble extended from floor to ceiling. The furniture was all white with subtle hints of gold. Warm fingers of light spilled through the room from the enormous windows that stretched from corner to corner of an entire wall. It overlooked the most exquisite view of the gardens and forest, Eden at her very feet.

She loved it.

“Ready upstairs, Your Majesty.” Makan motioned to the curving set of stairs. “I’ll send someone to help you prepare.”

He shut the doors behind him and Zara drifted through her new home with a new feeling in her chest. One of excitement and a touch of dread. Fear and uncertainty were also woven through, but she continued from room to room, never minding Magnus trailing after her.

“I think this one is yours,” she said opening a door on the second floor.

A single loincloth lay on the bench at the foot of an extravagant bed. The coloring was darker in the room, a man’s room with shades of deep burgundy and gold.

“I guess the king and queen don’t share a bed unless they have to,” he said, eyeing his new quarters.

“Tempted?”

Magnus scoffed as he scooped the strip of leather off the bench. “Not a chance.”

He continued with her to the third floor and the room that took up the entire floor. The white and gold of the other rooms resumed with a distinct feminine touch the rest of the apartment didn’t share. This must have been the Queen’s quarters, she mused, easing inside.

Her theory proved true when she spotted the gown hanging off the back of the closet, a stunning piece of woven silk as fine as a spider’s web. Each thread of gold overlapped in an elaborate patchwork of layers that made up an entire skirt. The top was a delicately cinched corset with dainty sleeves that fell over the shoulders. It was gorgeous. Hands down the most stunning thing she’d ever seen.

“Do you think it’ll fit?”

“Pardon us, my lady.” Two girls appeared in the doorway behind Magnus, one holding a basket, the other pushing a gold cart with a steaming teapot and tiny sandwiches. “Makan sent us to assist you.”

“We also brought some refreshments.” The girl nudged the cart closer.

Zara started forward, starving, only to come up short by Magnus.

“Tea, huh?” To everyone’s surprise, he poured a cup and held it out to the girl. “Go ahead.”

Brown eyes went enormous on a small face. They darted to her friends, who looked equally baffled.

“I … I couldn’t, sir. It’s the Queen’s tea.”

Magnus never faltered. If anything, the cup only got closer to her face.

“I insist.”

Hesitant, the girl accepted. She peeked up at Magnus as the rim was placed to her lips. She was still staring at him when she took a sip.

“Bigger.”

Shifting, she obliged.

“Finish it.”

While the girl obeyed, Magnus offered her friend the plate of sandwiches.

“One from the top, one from the bottom.”

“Magnus…”

He put a hand up to stop Zara’s protest, drilling gaze never wavering from the girls.

“They’re just sandwiches, right? It shouldn’t be a problem.”

Unlike the first girl, the second glowered venomously when she smacked her basket down on the ground and snatched up two sandwiches.

“Not those. Those.” Magnus pointed to two on the opposite side of the plate from the ones she’d chosen.

Her mouth twitched as if she wanted to tell him off, but she took the ones indicated and took massive, hazardous sized bites of each. She chewed rebelliously, killing Magnus slowly with her eyes.

Unfazed, Magnus took a step back and watched them, waiting.

When they didn’t fall over dead after five minutes, he nodded and set the plate down.

“You’re not dead. Excellent. Proceed.”

“We would not harm the Queen!” the girl snapped, swooping down and snatching up her basket.

“Well, now you’ve proven it, so…” He waved them in with a dramatic sweep of his arm.

Zara caught his gaze and shook her head, lips twitching in amusement.

Their names were Thea and Edena, and they usually worked in the kitchen. Thea helped with evening meals, but occasionally did the mending when necessary. Edena was a chamber maid. Neither had any experience waiting on a queen, but Zara liked them. They had a certain quality to them, a life that fascinated her. Unlike Lae, their minds were peaceful, content. A lot like Imogen had been. That kind of optimism was hard to ignore.

“Your hair is so beautiful, Your Highness,” Thea said, running a soft bristled brush through the strands from root to tip in gentle strokes.

Zara watched the silvery glisten in the vanity mirror as each strand caught the light. She’d seen it a million times before, but never under someone else’s touch. Her hair had always been such a source of pride, an accomplishment she had put her whole heart and soul into. She had nourished and cared for it, loved it like a child and in return, it had never gotten in her way. It had never been a hindrance, a source of frustration. It had been an unspoken rule. A symbol of her rebellion, the one thing no one could ever take from her.

“Cut it.”

Thea froze mid stroke. “Your Grace?”

Zara stiffened her shoulders. “Cut it.”

It was time. The symbol of her past wouldn’t help her with her future. This was a new place, a new her. In this world, she would need more than her hair. She would need courage, strength, and determination. She needed to find herself.

But nothing could be done until Magnus was sent from the room. She knew the moment Thea went for the scissors, he’d be all over her. Only excuse she could think of was to urge him to get dressed himself. That was followed by an argument she won after reminding him she could read their thoughts and would know the instant Thea decided to stab her in the neck. He remained reluctant, but eventually succumbed into the next room.

“The door stays open,” was his final say before he vanished from sight.

The girls were miracle workers. They sheared over four feet of hair, slicing through the soft strands until it was no longer at her ankles, but shiny curls at her waist. The pieces at her temples were pulled back and woven with tiny flowers and restrained into place with golden combs.

She was helped into the dress and pumps made of the same mesh material as the gown.

She waved away the offer of makeup and jewelry. The refusal was met with kit lids being shut and nothing else. Not once did either think her an ill fit queen, or not worthy of the throne. They seemed more focused on making sure she was the envy of everyone when she walked into the room. It made her like them a little more.

“I’m coming in!” Magnus warned a split second before he actually did.

In the vanity mirror, he was a vision of taut, golden skin and beautiful muscles. His dark outfit had been replaced by the strip of leather around his tapered hips and nothing else. The results could have put every Draconian man in the kingdom to shame. It certainly caught her attention.

Zara rose off the bench and turned to face him. Her hands shifted down the front of her dress once, a nervous gesture she caught quickly by clasping her fingers together in front of her.

“What do you think?”

Any doubts she may have had about looking the part of queen evaporated with just a single pass of his hungry gaze. It trailed every curve, dip, and line between her eyes and feet, leaving a trail of fire in its wake.

“Jesus.”

Zara flushed deep and dropped her gaze. The two behind her giggled and quickly turned away to gather they’re things.

Magnus crossed the room, attention never wavering off her face. His hand lifted and he caught a coiling lock of hair off her shoulder. The strand was twined through his fingers.

“You cut your hair.”

Zara studied the pale strand contrasting with the darker tone of his skin. “Only slightly.”

He hummed softly. “I like it.”

She’d wondered if he would. He’d always really liked her hair. She hadn’t been entirely sure how he’d take to her cutting more than half off. But his thoughts seemed to coincide with his words.

“It’s only hair,” she assured him, just in case.

Magnus nodded. “You ready?”

She peered down at herself, trying to remember if she had everything she needed. Edena had dubbed her ready with the final sealing of the clip on the back of the dress.

She caught Thea’s gaze and the girl nodded as if reading Zara’s mind. She curtsied once before quickly scooping up her basket of makeup and brushes and scurrying from the room. Edena gathered all the dishes into the cart, bowed at the waist to Zara and followed her friend out, leaving Zara to face Magnus with a sharp inhale.

“I guess I am.”

Makan was waiting for them when they descended the stairs. He stood rail thin and stooped by the door, hands twisted together like a dying spider. He bowed when they approached him.

“Everything is ready, Your Grace.”

“Has the north and west arrived?”

Makan nodded. “Both houses have already been seated at your table, Your Grace.”

“Was Kyros brought?”

Again, the man inclined his head. “He’s been under their guard since their arrival.”

Satisfied, Zara started forward. “There is one more thing. The girl, Lae, I want her brought and executed after Kyros.”

She felt Magnus shift behind her, but her attention remained on the old man watching her with both eyebrows raised high on his creased brow.

“Executed, Your Grace?”

“People can’t be allowed to think they can drug the queen,” she stated, wishing she didn’t have to. This man was supposed to be an adviser, a counsel for several generations before her, and yet he seemed surprised by everything she did. It was becoming irksome. “Not only did she drug me against my consent, but she left me to be assaulted. I will not stand for that, not in my kingdom. Not anymore.”

“But, Your Grace, executed?”

Zara stopped and rounded to face him. “Do you have another suggestion? Maybe fifty lashes? Maybe we can starve her? What do you think is the proper amount of punishment for someone who willingly partakes in the dehumanization of another person? If she had succeeded, I would be carrying Kyros’s child right now. Perhaps in your mind that’s acceptable, but it isn’t in mine. She will be made an example of.”

Not waiting for an argument, she stalked forward. Her heels cracked, a symphony to her outrage. She felt Magnus come up on her right, but only him.

“Do you disagree?”

She felt his answer before he said it. “No.”

Feeling slightly more confident in her decision, she resumed her wide paces until Makan scrambled up to join them, panting.

“Your Highness, perhaps smaller steps. A queen hurries for no one.”

It was a task when all she wanted to do was get the night over with, but she slowed her steps until she felt like she was barely moving. It must have been sufficient enough in Makan’s eyes, because he didn’t press it again.

He surprised her by taking them up two flights of stairs to the third floor. Zara was about to ask why they weren’t headed outside when they arrived at the high French doors overlooking the gardens, the same ones they’d passed earlier that day. Only the grounds far below were no longer vacant. Every blade of grass, every speck of space for miles was occupied by the faces of her people. Their thoughts and outer voices all rose into the fading daylight, a cloud of noises that she was grateful were too far to fully impact her. Nevertheless, she felt the occasional stray stab that dimmed when she shifted back a few steps, but she knew she’d have to get over it quickly if she was going to give her speech.

There were so many, an entire ocean of moving colors parting around a massive, wooden structure erected in the center. The wooden platform had only a small, bench in the center, a basket, and a square hole where the ladder came up from underneath.

That was all Zara had time to notice when she heard her name and turned.

The terrace was already occupied with eight chairs aligned four and four on either side of a podium. In them, already seated was her family and Serinda with two seats left vacant, one for Magnus. One for Liam. But it was the sight of the children that had her hurrying over.

“Agnus?”

The girl grinned. “Hey, this is the craziest place ever. The toilet seats are gold, did you know? I couldn’t even go. Who shits on gold?”

Any other time, the girl’s humor would have been amusing, but this was not the time.

“Makan.”

The man immediately appeared at Zara’s side. “Your Grace?”

Agnus wrinkled her nose. “What’s a grace?”

Zara ignored her. “Find me Thea and Edena, immediately.” Not waiting to see if her orders would be followed, she turned to Riley. “I’m going to have the children removed. The girls I asked for can be trusted, I assure you. They will be safe.”

Thea and Edena arrived.

“Take the children and keep them away from the ceremony until after.” She smiled at Alec and Otis. “Take them to the kitchen and see if you can find some sweets.” To the girls, she added, “Protect them with your lives. I am entrusting you with a task far more important than anything else.”

Both girls bowed and Zara did a quick search of their heads, assuring herself that the children would be safe in their hands.

“Find me straight after the ceremony,” she concluded. “I can’t stress enough the importance of keeping these three safe. Things will end very badly if they have so much as a scratch on them.”

“We understand, my lady,” Thea assured her. “We’ll guard them with our lives.”

She meant it. Zara could see it in both their heads and in the fire in their eyes.

“Where are they taking them?” Octavian demanded when the girls led the children away.

Zara faced him. “Somewhere where they won’t have to watch people get executed.”

He hesitated for a split second, but saw the wisdom of her decision and lowered himself back down.

The ceremony began with the blare of horns, a single, booming echo of a dozen all sounding at once. The crowd below ceased their movement and chatter and all faces pivoted to the terrace. Zara was out of view just enough for no one to spot her yet, giving her a few second to practice breathing properly. She was relieved when Makan took the podium first and raised his arms for attention.

A buzzing had begun between her ears, a high-pitched whine that tangled with the sound of her own ragged breaths. It made her mouth dry, which in turn had her focusing on the dampness in her palms and the gown she couldn’t wipe them on. Part of her wondered if she should have forced herself to vomit beforehand. She definitely didn’t want to be remembered as the queen who threw up all over her people.

In the background, she was vaguely aware of Makan’s speech, his voice abnormally loud in the blowhorn. The sound carried with the wind, stretching as far into the distance as it could before fading. She wondered if the people in the very back were able to hear. The thought didn’t linger as Makan finished his talk about their strength as a kingdom, their duty and respect of their leaders. He announced Zara as the daughter of the late Richella, princess of El Dorado, granddaughter to Her Majesty, Tiana. There was no mention of her father.

The applause was deafening, a booming thunder of sound that rattled the pebbles at her feet. Its combined force punched her in the eyes, sending an explosion of pain through her head.

This wasn’t a good idea. There were too many people. She should have realized.

Magnus caught her elbow, casually, as if he were doing nothing more than escorting her forward, but she must have swayed. She was almost sure of it; for a second, she could have sworn the world had tilted around her.

“It’s too loud,” she gasped, struggling not to press a hand over her face.

Magnus leaned away from her and murmured something to Makan. The Adviser immediately returned to the podium and raised his arms again, silencing the crowd. The abrupt loss of sound left her ears ringing. It jangled behind her eyes, but it was better than the pain.

Steadying herself, Zara started forward, focusing on her feet and the stand rather than the voices and the numbness in her head. By the time she stepped before the crowd, she was nearly in control of herself.

“As an honor bestowed upon me by the people of El Dorado and the leaders before, I crown you, Her Royal Highness, Queen Zara of the south.”

Makan was a full head shorter than Zara. She wondered if she was supposed to bow to accept the crown, but a boy of nineteen hurried forward and placed a stepping stool in front of Makan. The Adviser hoisted himself up, one knobby hand gripping the podium for support. He wobbled once, but quickly straightened himself.

A girl approached holding a red, velvet pillow trimmed in gold. Perched on top like a fragile bird sat the most beautiful piece of craftsmanship Zara had ever seen, a circlet of silver encrusted with hundreds of tiny diamonds in an intertwining dance. Each weave and rise, dip and twist glittered under the evening sun. Bold, but delicate, effortlessly feminine and powerful. The perfect touch for any queen.

It was offered to Makan, who said a prayer in a language Zara didn’t understand and took the crown between steady hands. It was placed carefully, with great reverence on Zara’s head.

The crowd below roared, a hot cacophony of elation that all, but knocked her over. It punched the air from her lungs. Her heart thundered in the closure of her skull, the frantic beating of a captured animal.

The noise slowed, dwindling until it was silent once more and it was her turn to address her people. She relished the few seconds it took for Makan to step off the stool and for him and the stool to step aside. She allowed Magnus to help her onto the podium, except now, she’d forgotten her speech.

Deciding to simply go for it, she sucked in a breath and began, pushing her thoughts into as many minds as she possibly could, blanketing the largest amount of space she ever attempted. It would leave her with a splintering headache, but it would be worth it.

“You don’t know me,” she started. “I see it on your faces, the confusion. You see me standing before you, a stranger staking claim to the throne. I wouldn’t understand it either. But I am here. This is my home. You are my people. No amount of distance or time can sever the bond we share, the blood in our veins, the history behind us. Our paths were always meant to cross.” She paused to let that all sink in, but also to give her mind a second to relax before continuing the connection. “I stand before you today with only a single promise, an oath to only act in the interest and growth of our people. I pledge my loyalty to the people standing before me. I will protect you. I will care for you. I will stand with you on the field of battle. Together, we will start a new tomorrow, one we can be proud of, one that will make us stronger, better.” She straightened her spine. Her fingers, slick with sweat, tightened on the strips of polished gold on either side of the podium. She raised her chin. “But before we can do that, before we can make a future to be proud of, we must correct the errors of our past.”

She looked away from the wave of people to Makan. She gave a subtle nod and turned back.

“We must learn by example.”

Below, Kyros was brought out from somewhere beneath the terrace. The crowd gasped and shifted, some away, some forward as if to stop their former king from getting hauled up the steps to the platform by the collar around his throat. Even from above, she could hear the jingle of chains rattling, hear the creak of wood beneath his weight, the sound of women weeping and hushed murmurs. It all seemed so muffled behind the clapping of her heart.

Makan’s cold fingers touched her elbow, startling her out of her thoughts. She peered down at him questioningly.

“Allow me, Your Majesty.”

She shook her head. “No, I will see this through.”

He inclined his head and backed away.

Liam had joined the jailer and Kyros on the platform. Someone had placed an enormous battle axe in his hands. The sight of it made her stomach turn cold.

Kyros was forced to his knees in front of the bench. He didn’t struggle. He remained perfectly stoic with his hands bound at the base of his straightened back. His chin sat aloft, the arrogant tilt of a king. His brown eyes stared ahead, firm and defiant.

“For the murder of Kyaerin Avery Maxwell,” Zara began slowly, but with steely resolve. “For breaking the treaty and issuing a strike on an ally house, for the attack on Valkyrie Maxwell and the Harvesters, another ally house, for siding and conspiring with the enemy and betraying your people, for the assault on the queen, I hereby strip you of your title and sentence you to death by beheading.”

The jailer pressed a hand on Kyros’s shoulder and nudged him forward. It took every ounce of control Zara possessed not to look away, not to close her eyes when Liam stepped forward. The sandwiches she’d had earlier lodged in her chest, a crusty wedge scraping up her insides.

A hush draped over the crowd, a fraught thread of tension where no one dared so much as breathe. Even the breeze had died away, leaving an eerie calm that speckled her hot flesh with cold sweat. Everyone seemed on the verge of reacting, of doing something, of needing to do something, but frozen. The very air vibrated with the indecisions. The only person capable of action was Liam. His knuckles were white mountains of rage bunched around the handle. His mouth was a line of disgust twisted tight against the tension of his face. The muscles beneath the soft cotton of his dress shirt strained in the hoisting of the axe over one shoulder.

The blade plunged, a streak of gleaming metal. Its fine precision sang through the air. From somewhere below, someone screamed, a piercing shriek of pain that masked the sickening triple thump. One of steel striking wood. One of the severed appendage dropping into the wicker basket. One of the body slumping sideways.

All the air trapped in congested lungs expelled in a rush that, together, echoed in a single exhale. The resounding crack of the axe hitting blade point first into the wood caused a ripple of startled jitters. Liam released the hilt now jutting up, slick with blood, and stepped back. His entire front dripped. It rained from his face and fingertips. It plastered his top to his chest. Yet he seemed immune to its existence. He abandoned the body, the axe, the eyes watching him, and descended down the steps. Zara watched him until he was out of sight beneath the terrace.

Two guards scrambled up the steps. They stepped over the crimson puddle creeping the length of the stage and tucked the body between them.

Zara pulled the remains of her courage together, knowing she had to finish while the shock kept the rage at bay. Once she lost the crowd, there would be no continuing.

“There will be changes. There will be new rules, new laws. No longer will we be dictated by outdated methods.” She took a deep breath and glanced once at Makan. “We are only as strong as our weakest member.” She turned back to the crowd. “Our children, our girls, our boys, they need our protection. They need to be protected.”

Below, Lae was hauled forward, kicking and screaming, the same sound they’d heard right before Kyros was killed. She thrashed against the two grown men dragging her up the steps. The sound of her protests crashed through the silence, deafening all else.

Zara went on. “As of today, there will be a ban on drosen. No one under the legal age is permitted to consume its substance. No one can give it without consent from both individuals. It will be monitored and controlled. Anyone caught abusing these laws will be brought to me and executed. We are warriors, not savages. We do not harm those incapable of understanding just what is being done to them. That is a change that begins now.”

Lae was shoved to her knees. No one cried, or held their breaths. No one even seemed to be watching the stage or the girl about to lose her life. The hushed murmurs rang of disbelief, of outrage. Their minds were a swarm of bitter indignation. Not one person could believe she had the gall to take away something that had been in practice since the beginning of their race. Not one believed she had any right to waltz in and take away their way of life. She had no right. She was an outsider. She barely belonged.

When the axe dropped on Lae’s neck, only Zara noticed. She doubted anyone would even care if she told them the girl’s crimes, but she did anyway.

“For the misuse of a controlled substance on the queen, for assisting in the assault on the queen, for betraying the crown.” She sighed, suddenly exhausted. She wasn’t even sure half the things she was saying were even actual crimes, but that didn’t stop her. “The blood of warriors run through our veins. It’s who we are. Destroying innocent lives is not how we will win this war. We will win, because we will fight for the people we love, for our kingdom. We will win, because of our allies, houses who have stood with us through countless battles, the north and the west. We will band together and conquer any enemy who dares take away what’s ours.” She paused just long enough to be assured it had all sunk in before finishing with, “Thank you.”

She stepped off the podium and walked stiffly to the terrace doors as Makan took her place to close the ceremony. She held herself together until she was out of the line of eyes, then she sagged against the nearest wall and closed her eyes. The world was a sharp spike of light puncturing her repeatedly in the eyes. The dizzying pain made everything swim and the floor sway. She needed to rest, but wasn’t sure she could make it.

“Zara?” Liam appeared at the end of the corridor, completely void of even a drop of blood. His dark hair glistened, slightly damp where it curled behind his ears. His shirt was crisp and clean. There was no sign of the man who had just decapitated someone. If anything, there was a light in his eyes that was so close to what she remembered of the old Liam. “Are you all right?”

Zara was about to answer when the others found her. They crowded around her, all their voices, inside and out, roared around her until she was ready to huddle on the ground and weep.

“Back off!” Magnus shoved his way forward and gathered her up. “Give her room.”

They took several steps back, leaving a wide half circle around her. Their concern draped over her in a smothering blanket.

“Take me back to the room,” she rasped to Magnus. “I need to lie down.”

Not needing to be told twice, Magnus started to when Makan appeared, looking frazzled in his toga, his hands wringing until the knuckles popped.

“I wish you had told me what you were planning,” he rasped. “I would have advised you against such a drastic decision.”

Zara nodded. “I know. That’s why I didn’t tell you. You have been set in one way for so long, you don’t see the harm it’s causing.” She shut her eyes for just a second, needing it to help stop the room from spinning. The air was getting thick and hot. “Our people deserve better. Our children deserve a chance, which is why you’re fired. I need an adviser who will help me make the people understand, not question me.”

Magnus stalked off with her still cradled against his chest. She allowed her head to rest against his shoulder, comforted by his embrace.

“Did I make a mistake?”

“No, you were incredible.” His lips brushed her damp brow.

“I need an adviser.”

“You’ll find one.”

She sighed. “They need to be open to change. I don’t know if I’m going to find someone like that here.”

“You might, but don’t worry about that right now. Just rest.”

“The children are in the kitchen...”

“Shh.”

The darkness gently pulled her under, taking away all the pain and doubts until there was nothing but the blissful lap of serenity.