It was a short carriage ride to an ocean port. The sky was dark, full of ropy, bulbous clouds that were barely catching the light of the coming dawn, and the wind was picking up as guards ushered us down a long wooden pier. Theron walked in front of me, getting into what I assumed was a boat despite never having been near a body of water larger than the lake at Jitra until recently. It was long and wide and staffed with men at oars. I hesitated at the edge of the pier, glancing at Calix, but he was speaking to a guard.
Unsure, I looked back to Theron, and he nodded sharply, holding out his hands. Sucking in a breath, I put my hands in his.
“Jump here,” he said, tapping a raised board with his feet.
I closed my eyes and obeyed. My feet hit something solid and I wobbled, my knees going weak, but Theron held me until I was steady and opened my eyes. He smirked at me.
“Well done, my queen.”
I huffed at him, but he pointed me forward, and I pried my fingers away from him slowly.
The boat was a living thing. It rocked under my feet, and I gasped, tipping forward to find something to grab onto. Theron came to me, offering his arm, and I gripped it. “Sit, my queen,” he said, pointing to some kind of narrow wooden bench in the center.
I nodded, sinking down. My husband stepped on the boat and it pitched again, and I yelped, gripping the wood.
Calix sat beside me, chuckling. “We must work on your sea legs, wife!” he said, patting my knee.
The wind blew through me, but I couldn’t figure out how to hug my coat tight around me and hold on to the bench at the same time. I shivered, but I refused to let go of the bench.
Theron sat on the left side of me, and he blocked some of the wind, but then the oarsmen pushed away from the pier and the boat lurched again with the effort. I kept from crying out, but fear shot through me and I found my fingers on the bench shaking with the effort to hold on.
Calix stood, shifting the boat again, moving closer to the pointed front of it.
I could feel Theron’s eyes on me, but I couldn’t even look at him. He coughed. “The boat is very safe, my queen,” he said. He spread his hands, explaining, “It’s a wide, low boat. It means it’s difficult to tip over.”
I managed to nod.
“We will only be on the water for a few hours,” he said. “This is the fastest way to Liatos, the southernmost of the Bone Lands.”
I shivered at the thought, and a fierce wind rushed under my clothes.
“Let me see if I can find something warmer in your things,” he told me, standing.
He moved, and I shuddered at the rocking of the boat and a sharp gust of wind. My husband sat down again beside me, and I clutched his arm.
“Oh, my sweet,” he chuckled. “The ocean is nothing to be frightened of. We have conquered it the same way we have conquered the land. You!” he said, shouting at Theron, his voice close to my ear. “Sit. You are disturbing the queen.”
Theron scowled but obeyed before he could find me something warmer. I shivered, and Calix put his arm around me.
It was warm and comforting, and as the boat rocked and moved, I wondered if this was what marriage was meant to be—slowly finding ways to need each other and comfort each other. Perhaps this was how it had been for my parents at the start—perhaps love was something that grew, not something that was determined by who removed my veil.
But then I thought of the man who even now was probably having his eyes taken away. I was capable of caring about Calix, I knew that was true. I could live with him and I would love our children with every bit of my heart. But as I shuddered against the cold, I sent a dark wish out over the sea that I would never grow to love my husband.
The skies grew dangerous with heavy, rain-filled clouds as a new shore came into sight. Even the smudge on the horizon was an incredible relief to me.
Calix stood, going to the front again and shouting orders at the oarsmen. Two rocky jetties came out into the ocean, curling around the harbor to allow for only a narrow passage that no more than a single boat could go through at a time.
The rock walls were thick and rough, with huge columns jutting above them to support a narrow ledge. I could see guards walking the length of it, illuminated along the way with bowls full of fire, and at uneven intervals, I saw something trailing from the ledge, swaying in the wind like a banner.
As the boat slid through the narrow passage, I saw that the banners were bodies.
I gasped, covering my mouth, looking at Theron. He leaned closer to me. “Punishment,” he said. “For disobedience in the communes.”
There must have been thirty bodies hanging along the length of the wall. From what I could see, some had been there for a very long time. In some places there was an empty rope, moving in the breeze, and I imagined there had been bodies there, swinging until the wind broke the ropes and let them fall onto the rocks.
I stared as long as I could. It felt like the only way to honor them.
The oarsmen brought us deep into the wide harbor. It looked like a bustling city; there were many ships in the harbor, more still at a complicated network of floating piers and docks. The boat brought us swiftly to a dock with no other boats on it. Soldiers were flooding down the planks, and they all fell into place at the precise moment that the boat sidled up alongside the dock. Calix made a gesture that I thought meant for me to stand, and I did, on stiff and shaky legs.
Calix moved with confidence, stepping on the side of the boat and grabbing a soldier’s hand to jump onto the dock. The boat pitched hard and I yelped, my legs twisting weakly underneath me. Theron caught me, pushing me up off the boat and into Calix’s arms.
The motion was too much, and I gripped his arm for a long moment, trying to steady myself. Even though I could see the dock was still and unmoving, I felt like the ground was shifting and rocking beneath me.
“You’ll be unsteady for a while. Come,” Calix said, tucking my hand in his arm, leading me down the walkway with a tug. My legs were weak and watery, and I found myself clinging to his arm, and my husband never looked so pleased.
The army led us to a horse, which I mounted to sit in front of Calix, and as we rode slowly through the city, I saw the people first. There were long lines of men walking in slow, even paces, like a ghostly version of the soldiers’ march. These men wore torn clothes that all had a chalky white on them. They were emaciated, their bodies looking bent and stooped, if not entirely broken. And they were marching down into the ground.
When the road turned again, I saw where they went. The ground was hollowed out, hundreds of feet deep, a stone cavern that was filled with men and the unfinished bones of a huge warship.
A crack and a boom sounded, so loud I jumped, but no one else reacted. Everyone just kept on working, blind to the others around them, and I wondered if nothing had actually happened, or if it simply didn’t matter.
“We have the best shipbuilders in the world,” Calix told me, his voice in my ear. “Our workers have unparalleled skill and dedication. The results are extraordinary.”
I nodded, struck mute by the sight of it. As the road turned again, I could see two more stone caverns, and yet somehow, my eyes caught on a pair of very worn men’s shoes, askew and abandoned by the side of the road.
The city was laid out in a tight, confined grid. It seemed that there were enclosures, their walls high and impenetrable, and around each large enclosure were spaces where only the soldiers could go. Above it all, I saw a tall tower, and Calix went on straight, heading toward a hill above the flat area extending out from the bay.
There was a grand palace set in the hills, white stone like the Tri City but low and wide, with looming white gates that stood open for our approach. Calix rode slowly through the guarded gates and into a wide expanse of garden that stood before the palace itself, full of archways and breezy courtyards.
He called a servant over and helped me down into the man’s arms before dismounting behind me. “Welcome to the Summer Palace, my love,” he told me. “This was a favorite retreat of my mother’s, and the current home of the quaesitori’s inquest.”
A man in a long black coat came out and bowed, which made his hair flop over his face. “My king, welcome. My queen. We have much to show you.”
“Excellent,” Calix said, his arm around my back. “There is no time to lose. Show us your work, Quaesitor.”
The man bowed again, and then turned, leading us into the palace as his coat flapped out behind him. He led us through a long room paneled with ornate wood, and into a room that must have been, at one point, a grand reception chamber. It shone, panels of metal and mirrors lining the walls to make the whole place glitter. There were two chairs set in the center and, in front of them, a table with liquids and glass containers upon it.
Calix’s arms left me the moment we neared the table. “Is this it?” he asked, picking up a glass bowl with a liquid so dark red it looked black until the liquid moved.
It looked like blood.
“No,” the quaesitor said, going to a stoppered glass bottle. “This is.”
This liquid was dark green, and Calix frowned. “It didn’t look like this the first time.”
“In my experience, we can never replicate nature’s exact formula,” he said. “Something is always different, even in a small measure, but the result is the same.”
Calix nodded sharply. “Show me.” He took my hand, kissing it and drawing me over to the chairs. I sat beside him, holding on to his hand, nervous as the quaesitor walked out of the room.
When he returned, it was with three guards, two women, and a young man, and my eyes jumped to Calix, but he was impassive. They looked tortured—there were bruises and cuts on their skin, and their eyes were sunken and smudged with darkness. The smaller woman was limping hard—her leg looked like it had been broken and never healed properly.
“Calix?” I breathed, but he held up a hand and didn’t look at me.
“What is the risk?” he asked the quaesitor.
“Minimal, my king. We have done frequent studies about how weak they need to be to prevent being a threat, while still being strong enough to make their powers present in some small way. It is quite an exact balance.”
Calix nodded sharply.
The man was first. Barely older than Kairos, he let himself be led, and the quaesitor directed him to a spot in the room. The young man stopped there, and the quaesitor took up another bowl.
“Water, my king,” he said, and poured it out in front of the man. To the young man, he said, “Do it.”
I held my breath as the young man raised his hand, and slowly the water lifted, trembling a little, betraying the weakness of either the man or his ability. I gasped, looking to my husband.
But instead of anger, there was a hungry greed on Calix’s face.
“And now,” the quaesitor said, reaching for the bottle. He unstoppered it, holding it out toward the young man expectantly.
The water stayed aloft, and the young man looked at the quaesitor, unsure of himself.
The quaesitor tilted his head and splashed some of the green liquid on the young man. He gasped, recoiling, and the water fell.
Calix pushed forward in his seat. “Raise the water again,” he ordered the young man.
The green liquid seemed to have only scared him; he was unharmed, but he shook his head. “I can’t,” I heard him whisper.
“Can’t or won’t?” Calix asked, standing from his chair. “Motivate him, Quaesitor.”
The Elementa man hurriedly held up his hand, and it shook visibly, but nothing happened.
“You see?” the quaesitor crowed.
The young man looked at me, and I felt the threads push up at my hands and skin, choking my throat, demanding I do something.
I shoved them away, trembling. I would not be exposed, not here, not now, not ever. Not if this was the result.
Not unless I knew that elixir worked, and I could get some for myself.
“Again!” Calix shouted, clasping his hands behind his back.
A girl was brought forward, the one with the bad leg, and her lip curled in fury as they pushed her. “Don’t touch me,” she snarled, but her eyes were locked on my husband.
“Stay back, my king,” the quaesitor said. “She was part of the Resistance.”
“I am part of the Resistance,” she corrected. “And you just put me in a room with the king.”
She raised her hand, and Calix made a choked noise.
“Calix?” I cried, jumping from my chair. I ran to his side as his face flushed darker and his hand clawed at his throat.
The quaesitor threw the liquid on her, and nothing happened.
She laughed. “You will die by an Elementa hand,” she snarled. “Isn’t that your fa—”
Calix dropped, and so did she. The guard behind her withdrew his sword from her chest with a disgusting crack. I stared at her in shock—she had landed on her knees, and she held there for a moment as blood bloomed on her chest, and she looked at me.
But then she fell, crumpling to the floor, and the spell was broken.
Shaking hard, I reached for Calix, who was gasping and coughing. I touched his face, but he sat up and pushed me. I fell back onto my hands as he stood, wiping spittle from his face as he went to the guard who had killed her and yanked a knife out of his belt.
The girl was dead, unmoving and quiet, and still Calix launched on her, stabbing her over and over and over again.
“Calix!” I sobbed, covering my mouth and trying to push away as her blood caught on my skirt and her body was mangled beyond recognition.
Calix threw down the blood-drenched blade and strode over to the quaesitor, grabbing the front of his black coat and dragging his face close. “Your elixir couldn’t stop an insect! You think this is a game?” he snarled. “You think I am joking about this? Next time you come to me with imperfect results I will take your head—do you understand me?”
“Yes, yes, my king!” the man cried.
“Get this scum out of my sight!” he roared, shoving the quaesitor toward the Elementae.
A loud sob escaped me, and I covered my mouth as my husband seemed to notice me. “Stop crying!” he roared. “Get up!”
I struggled to my feet, and as soon as I did, he grabbed my arm, dragging me into the hall with blood-drenched fingers. He stormed through the hallways, flinging open a door and pounding down a dark stone staircase echoing with chains and distant cries.
“Who else is with the Resistance?” he bellowed. I tugged against his wrist, too frightened to cry, too aware of the rocks around me that wanted to answer my fear with power. It felt like nausea, my body desperate to give in and desperate to resist in the same awful moment.
The quaesitori down here skittered to open more doors, and Calix yanked my wrist, turning me to face him. “You think I’m cruel, wife? You think I’m cruel because I try to eliminate enemies who try to murder me? They work on your brother’s command!” he roared at me.
“You’re hurting me,” I whimpered, trying to pull away.
He let me go, and I stumbled back against the rock as he turned to face the quaesitori. “Execute them,” he snapped.
“My king, it will destroy the validity of our information—” one protested.
“Your information is already invalid,” he snarled. “Now. So my wife can see.”
I screamed as they slit the throat of one middle-aged man, and I didn’t wait to see another. I turned and fled back the way I’d come, my heart pounding.
I kept running until I hit the open garden. A section of the garden was built around a large boulder, and the moment I fell against it, I felt stronger, and the revulsion brewing in my stomach eased.
Then I hated myself, that I could breathe easily again after watching those people murdered before me.
And worse, the fear that shook every bone and every bit of me wasn’t for them. I saw my face in their stead as I relived the murders I had just witnessed. My face, streaked with blood. My body, feeling the pierce and crunch of the blade that I was supposed to be able to control.
If I couldn’t get rid of this power, it would be my fate.
And if I couldn’t sway his heart, it would be the fate of hundreds of others.
It was a long while before Calix emerged. I had struggled to my feet and thought better of it, sitting down again on a bench and looking at the closed gates. As little as I wanted to, I knew I had to wait for him. I had to compose myself and put my fear behind me. I had to convince him to see the madness of his actions.
Then he appeared. He looked at me and moved past without touching me. A soldier brought his horse, and he waved it away, cutting a sharp look to me. “You like to walk, don’t you?” he snapped.
I nodded, silent, and he waited for me to step beside him before he started walking at a punishing pace. I kept up with him.
“Thrice-damned incompetent fools,” he said after a long while. “If their work weren’t so important, I’d kill the lot of them.”
“So they will be punished,” I said. “Put on trial for imprisoning people like that. That’s what they’re doing, isn’t it?”
He stopped, wheeling on me. “Who? The quaesitori? They aren’t imprisoning people; they’re imprisoning traitors and sorcerers.”
“Who are people!”
“They are not people,” he growled. “You saw what they can do. They’re dangerous, and this could lead us to controlling them.” He shook his head at me, disbelieving. “I thought you understood why this work is so important!”
“I understand why you might want to find this elixir,” I told him. “I want to help you do that. But you are torturing people!”
He jerked away from me. “We aren’t torturing them. We just use their blood and their abilities.”
“That isn’t all you do!” I cried. I was shaking, and I felt hysterical, dangerous, uncontrolled. “You killed them, and you killed them all years ago! You—you—all this, it’s because of you!”
“What did you say?” he snarled at me.
“You did it,” I told him. “You killed the islanders. I knew, when you told me you were tricked, something wasn’t right—you killed them, and it wasn’t just in the past. You’re still killing them.”
“Yes!” he shouted at me. “Is that what you wanted to hear?”
I turned around, wildly looking for a way out of there. All I saw were white stone walls and the guards standing farther away than usual. How could I leave this place?
He grasped my arms, and I shrieked at the unexpected contact. “You know nothing about that day, Shalia! I was the one who was betrayed, not her. I can’t change what happened, but what I did—I acted out of emotion, and that has never happened again.”
He had just stabbed a dead woman more than twenty times because of the depth of his hate, but he was too wild, his hands too tight, and I couldn’t say the words.
“I was secretly engaged to Amandana. We were going to marry and stop the war. But your brother was there, and she decided she’d rather have a desert man. So I put the elixir on every weapon we had, and for the first time, they couldn’t stop our arrows. They couldn’t control our swords. I broke the islands, and I made them all pay for her cruelty.”
He was shaking me, his eyes boring into mine, and I couldn’t catch my breath. Rian had something to do with this? Rian had been in the islands, offering aid, but—
Calix pushed me away and shouted, “Water!” at one of the guards, who came trotting up with a skin. He handed it to Calix, who gave it to me. “Drink,” he growled. “Before you faint.”
I did as he commanded with trembling hands, and Calix stalked around me, restless and scowling.
“The elixir,” I breathed. “You used it before?”
He nodded.
“How did you get it?”
“The trivatis who made the prophecy. He found it in Sarocca and offered it as a way to protect me.”
And you killed him for it.
“I never intended to use it. I was bringing it to the islands—to Amandana—as a show of faith.”
“Who was Amandana?” I asked. I knew I had heard the name before, but I didn’t think he had said it—it felt like it was from a very distant memory.
“The daughter of the high priestess,” he grunted, and I felt the blood drain from my head.
Kata’s sister. Calix had been engaged to Kata’s sister—which was why he thought he’d seen Amandana the night of our wedding. But if she was Kata’s sister, that meant—
“She was an Elementa,” he said, nearly under his breath, just as I thought it. “Fire.”
I shook my head slowly as the pieces fell into place. His hatred for Elementae, it all came from a broken heart?
“No,” I said, shaking my head. “How could you possibly go from loving her to treating Elementae like that?” I asked.
Red flushed high in his face, and his gaze on me burned. “It is because of that. That is the reason for all of this. And don’t you dare speak to me again of this, or I swear to the Three-Faced God, I will make you regret it,” he snarled.
We stared at each other for long moments as his ugly threat settled between us, his breath ragged and unchecked, his eyes wild.
“Do you regret it?” I asked him, my throat working. “You said you can’t change what you did. Do you even want to? Because what I saw today—I think you would do it all over again if you could.” My voice got quieter and quieter as I spoke, and I risked a glance at his furious face before looking away from him.
“I refuse to regret,” he growled at me, his voice low and hard. “And it wasn’t enough. You saw what that sorceress did today. What she said to me! An Elementa will cause my death, and the Resistance is rounding them up like sheep. Both the Resistance and all sorcerers need to be cut down before they have the chance.”
I nodded slowly, and I knew why I had waited so long to confront him about what I knew. I could never learn to live with what he had done, or accept it.
“Shalia,” he growled, and I saw his hand reaching for me.
I ducked away from his touch. I couldn’t even look at him. I felt ill.
“Wife,” he snarled. “You will—”
“My king!” I heard, and I looked down the wide road to see a figure on a horse and several soldiers behind him. Even from this distance, I knew it was Galen, and Calix cursed as he stopped again.
Galen was upon us in moments, swinging down from his horse easily. “My king,” he said, bowing his head.
“Brother,” Calix grunted.
“Why would you leave the Tri City without my protection?” Galen asked, his eyes rushing over Calix, stained with blood, and the blood streaked on my arms and skirts.
“Do not think to question me, Commander,” Calix snapped, but his eyes cut to me and I felt pinned by his gaze. “Do your men not inform you? I assumed that, as you have not previously seemed wildly incompetent, you would be close behind, and I had urgent business to attend to.”
Galen looked to me, and I crossed my arms around myself, turning away from his gaze. “And your business—” Galen asked.
“Concluded,” Calix said sharply.
Galen dropped his head to Calix. “Yes, my king. Would you prefer to return to the Tri City now or in the morning?” he asked.
“The morning,” he said, taking the reins to the horse. “Escort my queen back to the Summer Palace, and we will have a meal.”
“No,” I said, and everyone looked at me. “I won’t go back there.”
“It is my palace. Where else do you suggest we go?” Calix sneered at me. Then his head moved, and he looked toward the tall tower looming up above the center of the city. “Fine. Galen, escort her to the Oculus.”
Galen’s eyes shifted toward the tower, like he barely dared to look at it. “You wish to take the queen to the Oculus?” he asked.
“Without further delay, Commander. I will join you shortly.” Calix mounted Galen’s horse and wheeled it around, going back toward the Summer Palace.
A soldier dismounted and offered Galen his horse, but he waved it off. “The queen prefers walking,” he said, and this sounded resigned. “Three of you follow the king; the rest fall back.”
Galen nodded to someone, and I turned, seeing Theron ten paces behind us. He nodded back to his commander.
Galen waited for me to start moving, and he clasped his hands behind his back and fell into step with me. I kept my eyes pinned to the ground, watching my feet shuffle quickly over the gray stone. Galen led us down the wide avenue, and when we turned between two white stone walls, he asked, “What happened?”
I shook my head, but suddenly tears welled up in my eyes. I kept my face down, and they fell from my eyes unchecked. I didn’t dare look up to see if Galen noticed or not.
“Did he hurt you?” he asked, his voice soft.
I shook my head, though perhaps that was a lie.
“Did he hurt someone else?”
I halted, and suddenly the tears were sobs and I couldn’t hold them back.
“Wait,” he murmured, pressing a hand to my back and urging me forward. He brought me to the spire, ordering guards away from us. He opened the door and urged me inside, and it was instantly dark, and cool, and secluded. I felt Galen’s arms come around me, tight and comforting, pressing me into the shelter of his shoulders, his neck, his arms. He whispered, “Go ahead. No one can see.”
I don’t know how long we stayed like that, wrapped in darkness and something forbidden, though I wasn’t sure if he shouldn’t be touching me or I shouldn’t be crying—perhaps it was both.
As the tears slowed, Galen’s hand was following the path of my hair down my back, his head pressed against mine, and it was so gentle. It made my heart warm and full in a way that I hadn’t felt in a long time, and while I could feel the threads, they weren’t desperate and demanding like at the coronation.
“You’re ruining your reputation as a tough soldier,” I said.
He laughed, the sound a rumble against my chest, and I suddenly deeply regretted not being able to see his face. He smiled so rarely—seemed happy so rarely—that it seemed like a terrible thing to have missed what he looked like laughing.
“It’s all an illusion,” he told me.
I sniffed, pulling back from him and wiping my face. My whole face felt swollen and sore, and I shook my head. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean for you to have to do that.”
“I didn’t have to,” he said. His hand lingered on my arm for a moment, and I could sense his eyes on me, but I didn’t look up.
His hand fell away from me, and he opened the door again with a sharp flood of light. “Theron,” he said, and turned back to me. “Are you ready to go up?” he asked.
I nodded. An endless staircase curved along the wall of the tower. In the center, a wide basket rested on the ground with ropes that disappeared upward.
Galen flipped open a door on the side of the basket, holding it for me. Without being given an order, Theron started trotting up the stairs.
“My queen,” Galen said, and I stepped into the basket.
Galen got in before shutting the door. It was very close; our legs were pressed together, and the only way my whole body wasn’t mashed against my husband’s brother was by leaning backward, gripping the edge of the basket.
I gasped as the basket lifted, twisting hard once it was in the air. I was unsure if I could reach for him now that I wasn’t crying, if his arms around me had been a desperate act or something that would become part of our friendship.
The motion was swift but uneven, and I wondered what poor soul was hauling us up on the other end of the rope. We moved up through the middle of the tower, quickly passing Theron as we rose.
The basket stopped, and Galen unlatched the door, motioning that I should go first. We were in the top, the broad square perched on the narrow tower. The room we entered was filled with sunlight, and I could see the distant mountains through the windows. Awed, I went closer to them, opening a wooden door that led onto a balcony.
“Shalia, you shouldn’t go—” Galen warned.
My breath caught, but it was not for the natural beauty of this place.
The enclosures—there were hundreds of them, filling the valley between the oculus and the mountains with endless gray squares. More, maybe. Some were larger, with long buildings in the center. They seemed an endless block of stone, with no grass, no space, no air. In many of the enclosures, as if prompted by a clock striking a certain hour, long lines of people were being led from one building to another. They were all moving slowly, evenly, like the shipbuilders. They had no fight, because they had nothing—no choices, no chances, no hope. Just stone and guards, and one building and then the next.
“Slaves,” I said, turning to Galen as he came out to the balcony.
“I didn’t want you to see this,” he said, his voice soft.
“You … they’re all slaves.”
“Calix won’t call them that,” he said, his back straight and body tense. “They are laborers. Very skilled laborers for the most part.”
“So they can leave? You pay them?” I demanded.
“According to my brother, they serve the Three-Faced God. What higher purpose is there?” He passed a hand over the view, his voice bitter. “We feed them. We clothe them and house them—we go to great expense to see they are taken care of. He believes that is a fair wage.”
“How can he do this?” I asked. “How can he do any of these things?”
“Calix believes stratification is a natural part of civilized society. There must be soil so the tree can take root. There must be a working class to drive industry.”
“Slave labor is not the same thing!” I cried. “And those bodies hanging in the harbor. And these quaesitori?” I asked. “And the islands. How long will this list become before you believe he’s a monster, Galen?”
I looked at him, and he was tense and still beside me. “Do you?” he asked.
“Yes,” I said, resting my head in my palms.
“Maybe he is,” he said softly. “You spoke to him about the islands?”
“Yes,” I said. “He admitted it. I thought I could accept it.” I shook my head. “I thought—maybe, in time—but I can’t. I won’t. Not after today.”
“What happened today?” he asked again.
“I realized that he hasn’t changed. It would be one thing if he regretted it. He doesn’t. He says he refuses to regret.”
Galen nodded. “He’s a king. If he were to admit a mistake, his enemies would use it against him. He was such a young king—he didn’t have the luxury of being wrong.”
“That doesn’t make him right,” I told him.
“No,” he agreed. “It doesn’t. But it does make it complicated. If he had been overthrown, we would have been killed. All of us. People nearly succeeded several times, but Calix—he held strong. He learned to be inflexible.”
“And where did he learn to hate?” I demanded, glaring at him. “Because you don’t hate the way he does. Danae doesn’t. How can you defend him?”
“He’s my brother,” Galen said, bristling. “Sometimes he’s been a bad king in order to protect his siblings, and sometimes he’s been a great king and sacrificed our needs for the many. I don’t envy him any of the choices he has had to make.” Galen’s jaw worked. “How can you even ask me such a question? You would never condemn your brother, and I would never ask you to.”
I thought of Rian, taking lives when I hadn’t thought he was capable of it. That, at least, I did understand. But I couldn’t will myself to bring Rian into this argument, so I stayed silent.
“He does what he believes is right,” he continued, issuing a heavy sigh. “I saw what Calix did with you in the mills. And the quaesitori—they developed an irrigation system to get water to crops in droughts,” he said. “That arguably changed the nation. And they developed an incendiary powder from a yellow mineral found in the mountains and sugar, of all things, and that’s been able to save hundreds of men from breaking their backs in the mines.”
“Incendiary powder?” I asked. “I don’t even know what that means.”
“It can catch fire,” he said. “But instead of burning like oil, it bursts—particularly when it’s contained rather than out in the open.”
“And that saves lives?” I asked.
“Mining is hard work. If we can save a single hour of manual labor, it’s a great gift.” His shoulders lifted. “But I also see the danger in that substance. Calix wants to fit it onto ships to allow us to disable our enemies without engaging them on the water.”
“But that prison,” I said, shuddering. “I cannot reconcile what they’re doing there.”
“What prison?” he asked, his sharp face creasing with displeasure.
“You didn’t know?” I asked, shaking my head. “The Summer Palace is home to Elementae who are being used for his inquest.” I thought of the bruises and all the blood, and I couldn’t form any more words.
His gaze shot out over the enclosures, fixing on the palace in the hills like he could see right through the walls. “I will look into that.”
I shook my head. “How is that different from this?” I asked, sweeping my hand out. “They are slaves for a different service.”
His eyes met mine. “It is,” he said.
I wasn’t sure what his promise to “look into that” would yield, but it did ease my mind a little. “Thank you,” I said softly.
“What will you do?” he asked.
“Do?” I repeated bitterly. “What do you do?”
“I make his reign secure,” he told me. “I make it so that he doesn’t have to make such terrible choices anymore.”
“And you lessen the impact when he does,” I said. “Like with those men guarding the gold.”
A muscle flared in his jaw, but he nodded, looking away from me.
I sighed. “Maybe I can’t fix him, or change him. But I can change the world that our children inherit. My children won’t learn to hate. They will learn to rule with grace and wisdom, and they will change this country when they do.”
“That’s a beautiful vision,” he said, his voice rough and soft. “I will defend them with my life.” He swallowed, the action moving his throat. “You must be hungry,” he said. “I’ll call for some food to be sent up.”
With a sigh, I nodded. He turned away from me. Curious, I followed the pathway to the edge, chasing the pink splash of light that heralded the sunset. Finding that the balcony actually turned the corner, I rounded it. There was another door to another room, and this part faced the water, the glorious sun just starting to make the sky glow above the horizon.
The water looked peaceful and distant, but the view was marred by the deep scars in the earth for the shipbuilding dry docks. From the Oculus I could see there were gates that barely restrained the ocean tide; I could only imagine the fury of the ocean as those gates were lifted.
It made me think of Kata and her gifts and, inescapably, about my own.
I heard a shrieking call and turned to see Osmost, flapping his wings to slow down and land on the railing beside me. “What are you doing here?” I murmured, smiling at the bird. He sidled closer to me, and I petted his head slowly. We were used to each other, but Osmost had always made it very clear that he was still a wild animal, and I had the scars to prove that.
Watch the skies, Kairos had told me. I shook my head with a smile—he had sent his hawk to watch after me when he couldn’t. And this Oculus closely resembled a human bird’s nest, so Osmost was fairly delighted.
I dug my fingers into his feathers, scratching the base of his wings, and he raised them a little, making a fond clicking noise at me. I could see the town that Galen mentioned—the only place around the wide harbor with structures that weren’t made of stone, sweet little buildings that looked like they had been there forever. Off one of the docks, it looked like people—maybe even children—were running down, jumping high, and splashing into the water.
I sighed, leaning on the railing. It was nice to know there was a little happiness in this bleak city.
Osmost’s head cocked, and his wings fluffed once before he leaped back from the balcony, diving low and out of sight. Galen rounded the corner a moment later, not coming close to me. “You should eat,” he said. “My men brought some food for you.”
“What about Calix?” I asked, turning to him.
“He never has a good sense of time when he’s with the quaesitori,” he said. “He may be a while. But I’ve had the men clear the barracks—you can sleep here.”
This made me feel foolish for having demanded a different location than the Summer Palace, though I know he didn’t mean it that way. “I’m sorry to displace your men,” I said.
“You are their queen,” he said, his face nearly hinting at a smile. “They’d jump off the balcony for you, so this is a small request.”
“Still,” I said, and walked toward him, going into the room, where a tray of food sat on a table covered with maps.
Theron stopped when we entered the room, a chicken leg sticking out of his mouth. He hurriedly pulled the bone out and dropped it onto a plate as Galen snorted. “Has the queen stopped feeding you?” Galen asked.
I smiled at him as I sat, and he looked to Galen. “No,” Theron said, “but the king was quite fixed in his attention, and I don’t believe the queen has eaten all day. Which also, incidentally, means I haven’t eaten all day.”
“Then we shall remedy that,” Galen said, also pulling a chair over as Theron sat back in his own, going to work again on the poor chicken. I took a piece of chicken, though I attempted to eat it slightly more delicately than Theron. There were also bread and fruits and cheeses, and Galen poured us wine.
“Are we leaving tonight?” Theron asked Galen.
“No, I believe the king wants to go in the morning,” Galen replied. “I’ve sent word to Zeph and the rest of the Saepia. They should be here by then to properly escort the queen.”
Theron nodded.
I leaned back, looking to Theron with a smile. “Speaking of Zeph,” I said. “Why don’t you have one of those giant sword things?”
Theron huffed. “It is not a giant sword. It’s a khopesh, and frankly, I’m hurt, my queen. I thought you, in your infinite wisdom, would have seen the limitations of such an unwieldy weapon. Knives, however, are suitable for any occasion.”
He gestured to his knife-lined breastplate, where at least twenty thin, deadly stilettos gleamed back at me. I laughed. “I think the point of such a weapon is that it frightens enough people that it’s rarely used,” I returned. “And I like it because it resembles a scimitar.”
“Ah,” Galen cut in. “But the curve is for an entirely different purpose. Did you notice the notch behind the curve?”
I shook my head, and he gestured with his fingers, showing a little hook right before the long blade curved outward.
“Here,” he said. “It’s meant to snare people and swords so he can slice through them with it.”
“No,” Theron interjected, pointing a finger at Galen. “It ends up just trapping people so he has to use something else. And the big oaf isn’t fast enough for that.”
I laughed. “I’m sure you could learn to use it too.”
“It’s too heavy for him,” Galen said with a smile.
Theron tossed down his piece of bread. “Three hells. It’s an inferior weapon; when will people understand that?”
I ate a piece of cheese, laughing happily to glimpse the boys inside the tough warrior men.
Before long, it was dark and Calix still hadn’t returned. Galen left us to go check in on him, and I felt tired enough that I went to the empty barracks room in the tower. There was another door out to the balcony there, and I curled up under two blankets, staring at the moon, which looked like she was waiting just outside for me.