Galen escorted me into the castle and to the large hall, but kissed my hand and told me he couldn’t stay for the meal. He lingered for a long moment like he wanted to say something else, but then he turned and left.
I went into the hall alone; Calix wasn’t there, and Danae and I sat on the raised dais. I saw Kairos, and when our eyes met, I looked to the hallway and back to him, and he nodded once, raising his wine to me.
“Are you well?” I asked Danae. Her posture was straight and careful, her muscles tense like she was waiting for something.
She leaned back, but she still seemed watchful. “Yes. Court makes me … edgy.”
I nodded, taking a bite of stew that thankfully didn’t seem to have fish in it.
Her eyes swept over me. “And you? How are you finding the City of Three?”
My shoulders lifted, unsure how to answer the question. There were so many things crowding my mind—I needed to ask Calix about his past, and I could only imagine it would be an ugly conversation. But I also wanted to do something about the grain mill that I had seen, and the nagging feeling that I could be doing far more as queen. “Foreign, of course. But there are problems that plague all people.”
“Oh?” she asked, turning slightly toward me.
“Hunger,” I said. “Safety. The need to protect your children. Everyone does it in different ways, but the Tri people and the clans are not so different.”
Her eyebrows lifted. “Are we not?”
“We know hunger well,” I told her. “Not as much recently—my brother Aiden has become a tremendously skilled hunter, and it seems he could always make food appear for us—but as a nomadic people, we have few steady sources of food and water. The people here face hunger on a larger scale, of course.”
Danae propped her chin in her palm and covered her mouth with her fingers, but she nodded. “Yes.”
“I wonder if I can help,” I told her softly. “I wonder if I could ask Calix to allow the women to work in the mill. To work to feed their families.”
She was very still for long moments, and then her eyes shifted over me, and she rubbed her mouth before dropping her hands into her lap. “It is an excellent thought,” she said. “But it would not be Calix’s decision. The Three-Faced God must make such a declaration.” Her eyes met mine.
“How … how do I get a God to make a declaration?” I asked. “Is that something you can do?”
Her mouth twisted into something that was too bitter to be a smile. “No, I cannot. Calix feels he alone is the true conduit for the God’s voice. But the call of the Three-Faced God—particularly a call to service—is very, very powerful,” she said, raising her chin.
Drawing a breath, I nodded. “How do these calls to service usually present themselves?” I asked her.
She waved a hand. “They can come in many ways. Dreams, visions—but the most powerful is in response to prayer. Asking the God for an answer.”
I nodded. “And he will listen?” I asked.
“The God?” she asked, and her smile lifted with amusement. “Or Calix?”
“Who is more important?”
“Calix,” she said, looking forward. “And I cannot know his mind, but yes. He likes solutions—if it solves a problem, he may listen.”
Curling my hands around the arms of the chair, I sat up straighter, feeling hope rush through me. I could do this. I could be the queen they needed, and in finding peace for this country, protect Rian and Kairos and all the desert clans.
As soon as I stood at the end of the meal, Kairos appeared, bowing to the dais. “Sister,” he greeted me. “Let me escort you back to your chambers.”
I smiled. “Of course,” I said, and took his offered arm. “Good night, Danae.”
“Good night, my queen.”
Kairos led me down the steps and out of the hall, and Zeph was waiting. He inclined his head and let us go several feet in front of him, but I still didn’t dare tell Kairos of what Calix had let slip the night before until we were truly alone. Kairos filled my nervous silence with chatter and, when we got to my chamber, led me out onto the balcony as Zeph shut the door behind us.
“Now,” Kairos said, glancing around us on the empty balcony. “What did you want to tell me?”
I leaned closer to him. “The king said that he has a spy in Rian’s ranks. His name is Tassos.”
“He told you his name?” Kairos asked, narrowing his eyes.
“Yes,” I said. “It was an accident. We were arguing.”
Kairos shook his head slowly. “No, I don’t think it was, little sister. The king is far too calculating to tell you something like that by accident. He’s testing you. Trying to see if you’ll tell Rian. Or perhaps if I will.”
“But doesn’t Rian need to know there’s a spy in his camp?”
Kairos crossed his arms. “I would hope Rian always assumes there’s a spy in his camp and acts accordingly. It’s what I would do. And it’s the only way they keep the leader so well protected.”
I watched my brother. “Is the leader Kata?” I breathed.
He considered it but shook his head. “Doubtful. Whoever the leader is, they are exceedingly careful. Kata shares Rian’s reckless streak, in my opinion.”
“Do you know who it is?”
His eyes flicked to me and away, and I gasped. “No, I’m not certain,” he said quickly. “I have my suspicions. But I can’t share them, especially since they’re unconfirmed. And not with you.”
That stung, but I thought of my husband questioning me the night before, and I nodded. “I understand.” And I did. I couldn’t tell Kairos that Calix had been the one to kill the islanders, and Kairos couldn’t share this with me. Not only were we fighting to keep each other safe, but marriage had also fractured my loyalty. “You should probably go, before my husband returns.”
Kairos nodded with a sigh, kissing the top of my head before going back into my chamber and out.
Calix didn’t return soon. I spent a long time on the balcony, thinking about my conversations with Galen and then Danae.
Calix had been the one to murder the islanders. He had killed Kata’s family, and he nearly killed Rian, who had been in the islands during the massacre.
I wanted to confront him about it. I wanted to tell him I knew, to demand an explanation.
But more than that, I wanted to do something good. I wanted to do something meaningful, and I knew that if I could just make him see that it was an easy solution, I could get him to agree with me about the mill.
The sound of the door closing drew my attention, and I saw Calix, smiling at me. “I was trying to surprise you,” he said.
I didn’t stand from the bench, the one I liked, closest to the edge so I could see out over the strange and moving water. He came to me, sitting on it, tugging my chin to him, but I pulled away.
“Wife?” he asked.
I shook my head, still unsure, still hesitating between what I wanted to say.
“Galen said things went well at the Erudium.”
“Yes,” I said quietly.
“You should go back there tomorrow. It’s a good place for you to be seen.”
“No,” I said, and then shook my head again, but this time I had made my decision. “I saw the grain mill, and the women and children waiting for food behind it. It’s wrong,” I said, looking at him. “Those women who stand in line for days—this is not the life they want.”
He opened his mouth with a scowl, but I remembered what Danae had told me.
“They want to serve the God,” I continued. “They want to serve their country. The God has been trying to show us what he wants—he wants women to feed their families and serve. And I believe he wants me to lead them to it.”
Calix watched me suspiciously. “You wish to pound grain?” he asked.
I looked at my hands. “If I must. But I believe the Three-Faced God wants me to serve by helping women serve their country.”
“So you want women to work.”
“Yes.”
“And the Three-Faced God told you this?” he asked, his eyes narrowing.
I drew a breath. “I can’t claim to know,” I said. “But this idea came to me when I thought of how I might serve.”
“But you don’t believe in the Three-Faced God.”
This stopped me. I didn’t; could I lie outright about such a thing? “How else could I come by such an idea?” I asked, my voice hushed.
He scowled, standing. “I suppose that’s true. The women work in the factories—and we pay them?”
“Paying the women would mean they have money to spend. And money for tax,” I added.
“Hm. The labor will not interfere with raising families,” he insisted.
“The children are meant to be at the Erudium anyway.”
“But if a woman is with child, she will not work,” he said.
It seemed a small concession. “Of course not.”
He drew a slow breath. “Very well, wife.”
He walked inside, but I stayed on the balcony longer, looking out over the wild sea. I felt numb from the horror I had discovered, but I knew this was progress—this was something my mother would be proud of.
But now I knew the terrible price of the crown on my head, and I couldn’t forget that. And if I did, I feared it would mean sacrificing my humanity.