DELIVER THE SPEECH.
That was all.
That was always the Luminary Council’s wish of me. Say the words. Look the part. Inspire confidence.
My long gown gleamed in the noorestone light, bright against my skin. I missed this—feeling beautiful—but how could I embrace this life now that I knew the cost?
Conflicted, I followed Elbena and Dara to the enormous open doors of the High Tower, where eight armed guards waited. They searched our bags and waved us into the grand lobby. The five of us strode through the huge space, with ceilings that stretched far higher than normal, making Dara’s voice carry as she pointed out pieces of art and architecture, and educated us on their historical importance.
A bubbling fountain with a map of the Fallen Isles on the bottom, and dozens of small fish meant to signify the Upper Gods, who’d chosen not to descend to Noore.
A lightless chandelier constructed after the North Mine collapse, when thirty miners were killed in a cave-in.
And a statue of Bopha herself, her arms and hands and fingers stretching toward a window so narrow that it would admit the morning light only twice a year.
Finally, we reached a marble staircase in the center of the room. The steps spiraled up and up, with noorestones embedded in copper all along the inner handrail. Our shadows moved against the white walls, silent reminders of Bopha’s power here.
Music drifted through the building—the gentle one-two-three beat of a waltz caught and tangled on my counting. The only music in the Pit had been what I’d brought in my mind, Kumas’s sad attempts, and the horrible noise of Hurrok’s screaming every night.
This music—real music—drew me upstairs. My soul was starving for it.
On the landing, we turned one corner into a huge ballroom where a dozen musicians played on a tall stage that sat under a great, circular window in the back. I identified a flute, violin, and some kind of bass stringed instrument before Elbena’s gasp drew my attention away.
“What a beautiful room!” Elbena smiled widely. A real smile, even, not that manufactured expression she used on me.
“Thank you.” Dara was all smugness. It showed in the set of her shoulders, the purse of her mouth, and the way she eyed the room as though evaluating a prized stallion. “I’m so pleased you like it.”
It was an impressive space. She was right about that.
A hundred (easy to count because there were twenty groups of five) noorestones sat in mirrored sconces on the right side of the room, casting sharp illumination toward the left. And it could have been a trick of the light, or my eyes, but sometimes it appeared as though the shadows didn’t quite match the people they were attached to.
Women and men danced everywhere, glittering in the brilliant light. Many wore pale-colored suits or gowns, contrasting with dark skin. It was a theme, I supposed. Shadows and light. The two things Bophans worshiped.
Most people did not have the tattoos I’d seen on Dara, Chenda, and Hurrok, though some had painted sparkly cosmetics across their faces and necks and shoulders and arms. Even fingers shone, and not just with jewelry, though there was a lot of that as well. Rings, bracelets, necklaces, headbands: most were copper set with various gemstones, though I spotted silver and gold as well.
I found myself swaying along with the music; I could hardly remember the last time I’d danced.
“Please,” Dara said. “Let me introduce you to everyone. Or reintroduce you, as the case may be.”
“We’d appreciate that.” Elbena glanced at me and mouthed, “Remember what we talked about.”
A warning. The same way Mother reminded me to stand up straight and pull back my shoulders and lift my chin. Like I could forget how to behave after a lifetime of her ungentle coaching.
Like I could forget to mind my tongue with enemies at my sides.
But I nodded just slightly. If I behaved, maybe she’d leave me alone with Hristo for a few minutes.
He, like the other guards, had taken a place along the wall. The mask hid his expression, but when our eyes met, I sensed a smile beneath the off-white linen. My heart thumped in response. He’d come for me. My protector. My friend.
I tore my gaze away before Elbena caught me, and I spent the next eternity moving from person to person. I smiled. I took hands in mine. I told strangers that I wished the best for them. I listened to subtle bragging. I gave vague answers to questions about what had happened with Lex at the docks, because Elbena was there and I wasn’t certain what story she’d already spread beyond the basics.
At first, it was almost as though nothing had changed and this was still my life.
Then, dinner was announced, and everyone made space as nine round tables were brought in, followed by seven chairs per table. Before our eyes, the ballroom became a banquet hall as men and women covered the tables in silk and porcelain and glass. Small noorestone stands were placed in the center of each table, followed by nameplates in flowing script.
My place was toward the stage, with Elbena and Dara, plus two men and two other women—one the second councilor who’d come to Bopha. She sat across from me, which meant she was in the perfect position to observe my movements.
“Hello, Mira,” said Councilor Bilyana. “It’s so nice to see you again.” Her look was all cool calculation. With the way they made me feel now, it was hard to believe I’d ever trusted the Luminary Council.
Dara sat to my left. A woman named Sothy to my right. She introduced herself as the owner of seventeen noorestone mines.
“Bopha has the largest mines in the Fallen Isles,” she said. “It is a gift from our goddess, so that it’s never truly dark. The Shadow Goddess has been good to me. I was able to provide all the stones you see here.” She reached forward to touch the stand in the center of the table. It was shaped like a tree and had tiny noorestones hanging like leaves.
“They’re beautiful,” I said, trying not to think about the interrogation room. There was so much more to them than simple light. That moment Aaru’s pain became unbearable and everything went black would haunt me forever. “I heard a rumor that some people can hear noorestones. Do you know anything about that?”
She shook her head. “Noorestones are part of the world. Occasionally, miners claim they can hear a very low, deep humming, but that seems like a rather fanciful notion. Still, often the places they point out do have large pockets. There are so many in Bopha, though, it could be luck.” Her expression darkened, as though she’d just realized something.
“Go on,” I urged.
“Well, there was a time we thought Harta’s gift might extend to noorestones, so I hired twenty or so Hartans to work in one of my mines for a decan. My overseers there didn’t notice a change right away, but we didn’t expect to. Noorestones are not wheat, after all. But only a month ago, I was told that mine is depleted. No new noorestone deposits have been found in almost a year.”
And she blamed Hartans. She didn’t have to say it. The look was in her eye, and her head tilted like a cue for me to agree.
“I can’t tell you how much those Hartans have cost me,” she added. “I can’t wait until they’re gone.”
Say something, my conscience urged. Speak up.
But Elbena caught my eye and lifted a brow, and her message was clear: she’d punish me for any perceived slight to Sothy.
Strength through silence. Even from far away, Aaru was teaching me that. When to listen, when to speak, and how to measure: those were the lessons of Idris.
I turned away from both of them and watched the musicians play.
DINNER WAS UNBEARABLE.
Oh, the food was delicious. Exquisite. Over seven courses, I ate my fill and then some. But I spent the entire meal thinking about how many prisoners this could feed, and how many would think the plates were works of art, rather than food. Had Aaru ever eaten honeyed duck or drunk from a bottle of century-old wine? It seemed unlikely.
The meal took too long. And went too fast.
The musicians finished a minuet and Dara took the stage. She stood in focused noorestone light, her shadow jutting long and dark to one side. When she spoke, it was with a lifted chin and prideful smile. “Strong shadows, friends.”
A low murmur of “Strong shadows” came from the diners.
“With the Hallowed Restoration behind us and the new year ahead, it’s time for the Twilight Senate to reconvene to discuss ideas, problems, solutions, and the state of our home. I’m so glad everyone here could join us as we move forward. We’re all so busy all the time. I hope the rest of you treasure tonight as much as I do.” Dara held a beat while she waited for the polite applause to finish, and then went on to talk about the surviving Bophan spirit, the legacy today’s leaders would leave, and the importance of cooperation.
I picked at the tiny chocolate cake (topped with three gold lala flowers carved out of pressed sugar) and listened to the speech, but those things held only half my attention. From the corner of one eye, I watched Hristo.
When the tables had been brought in and all the senators, diplomats, and important figures sat to eat, Hristo and the other guards had moved to keep a better watch on their charges. Which meant I’d been able to sneak glances at my friend throughout the meal, and now that everyone was focused on Dara, I could look a little more.
He appeared healthy. Strong, like always. He scratched his chin through the mask, careful not to move it. Elbena would probably recognize him, assuming she ever recognized servants outside her own house.
When our eyes met and he smiled, I wanted to stay like that forever. Hristo meant safety. Not just when I was seven and that man had tried to kidnap me, but more times than I knew about. Hristo was always protecting me. And, though we’d never hugged much growing up (he thought it was unprofessional and Mother thought it was inappropriate), right now, I wanted to run to him and wrap my arms around him. I wanted his arms around me, because he was the only person who could make me feel safe when I was surrounded by enemies.
And what did he think of this? Had he overheard my conversation with Sothy earlier? Did he know what Elbena and Dara expected me to say? How did he feel about being Hartan on an island that hated him solely because he’d been born to the Daughter?
I couldn’t imagine.
But he was looking at me with all the warmth in the world, and I knew it wouldn’t be long before we were together again.
He made a slow, purposeful glance to his left.
I followed his gaze and my heart leaped into my throat.
Ilina.
My wingsister, my very best friend in the entire world, was clothed as one of the servers, collecting empty dessert plates from a neighboring table. Her hair was loose, and she kept her eyes downcast like the rest of the servants. But she must have felt my eyes on her, because she looked over and flashed a quick, secret grin.
The presence of the two people I loved most warmed me through to my bones. I felt like I could float, and maybe I would have, except at that moment, Dara’s tone changed and I caught my name.
“Now, Mira Minkoba—the Hopebearer of the famous Mira Treaty—is here to speak with us.” Dara motioned toward me. “My dear, if you please.”
My mood plummeted and my heart pounded, but I rose to my feet and smoothed my gown. This, too, was a familiar feeling: the dread of so many eyes on me, all waiting to see if I would mess up; the surge of adrenaline through my veins, like my body urging me to run or fight; and the way my vision tunneled on the stage ahead, because my only option was to get through this.
It would be easier if I had my calming pills. Usually I did, just in case, but Elbena didn’t know about them. Mother had made me keep that a tightly guarded secret.
A polite applause followed me as I took ten steps, went onto the stage, and turned to face all the most important people on Bopha. Senators, diplomats, generals, businesspeople. Sixty of them. One of me.
The musicians were motionless at my back. The audience waiting in front.
A hundred noorestones. Nine tables. Sixty people sitting. Fifty-five security members. Eight servers vanishing into the shadows.
Hristo watched me from his place by the wall. Ilina, too, as she edged toward him.
The words of Elbena’s speech gathered on my tongue, ready. All I had to do was open my mouth and spill out the words she’d tried to fill me up with. Then I could go home. See my family again. Be with my friends and my dragon.
Tirta had told me to do everything they asked. Altan had said not to cause trouble or he’d hurt Aaru more.
If I just said what Elbena wanted, I’d be protecting Aaru. Hristo and Ilina, too, because Elbena would be furious if she discovered they were here.
I wished I’d had an opportunity to talk with them before. I wished I knew what they had planned.
But if I recited the speech like a good mouthpiece, then I wasn’t fixing anything.
Unless I said the right thing.
But then I’d get in trouble.
I’d hate myself forever if I told these people what they wanted to hear, not what they needed to hear.
I’d made a mistake on the docks, costing Lex her freedom.
People were staring, waiting for me to say something. I’d been wearing a pleasantly neutral expression—after years of training, my face slipped into that by default—but I’d been standing here slightly too long without speaking.
I cleared my throat. “Thank you for inviting me here tonight.”
Thank you for needing me so much that the Luminary Council was forced to pull me out of the Pit. Or maybe they only needed me because Chenda had refused them.
“One of the more interesting parts of having a treaty named after me is the expectations that arise. I often feel I should be an expert on all matters even tangentially related to the Mira Treaty because we share a name, but I’ve come to realize that isn’t realistic. Not only is it impossible for one person to be an expert in all the things the Mira Treaty covers—dragons and conservationism, independence and equality, unity among the Fallen Isles, and more—it’s far too much weight for a young girl to carry.
“Nevertheless, it was expected of me, and I’ve done my best to educate myself not only on the treaty itself, but on the ways our societies have upheld its decrees. And as someone raised in the light of the Lovers, I find myself considering all aspects through filters of love and compassion.”
A few people offered patient smiles; many had heard Damina-based speeches from me before. But at my table, Bilyana frowned, and Elbena leaned forward, urging me to begin.
Give me peace. Give me grace. Give me enough love in my heart, I prayed. Cela, cela.
I glanced across the room, meeting enough people’s eyes that it wasn’t obvious when I found Ilina’s and held. I hoped she could see my apology behind the mask of Public Mira. “Seventeen years ago,” I started, “the Mira Treaty took a stance against discrimination, against occupation, and against the pillaging of our islands. The treaty states that to truly honor the Fallen Gods, all islands must be equal and independent. Anything less is immoral. Unethical.
“This truth is indisputable.”
Elbena smiled and leaned back in her seat, triumphant. These were the words she’d meant for me to speak.
“Since then,” I went on, “many strides have been taken toward making reparations, ensuring the success of Harta and her First Matriarch, and offering the freedom of choice for those who want to work and reside all across the Fallen Isles.
“But now we’ve reached another pivotal moment in our history. We can be silent . . . or we can speak up.”
Elbena’s grin fell.
I spoke quickly, because this was my one chance to say something useful. If I wasted it, I’d never forgive myself. “Forcing Hartans to leave is not an act of love or equality.” Please, Darina. Please, Damyan. “Love does no harm.”
The room went absolutely quiet.