I sat at the head of the table next to the Komizar. Several of the governors whispered among themselves. They had noticed my new position but said nothing openly. When he walked in with Calantha, Rafe noticed too, pausing for an extra beat as he pulled out his chair. The hall was full tonight, not just the usual Council and soldiers, but elders of the clans too. The Meurasi outnumbered them all, sitting at extra tables that had been brought in. I saw Effiera among them watching me. She tilted her head approvingly at my purple dress of scraps. There were also the quarterlords—the ones I had seen leaving the hidden chamber. Their glances cut not with approval but with stinging victory.
I looked away from Rafe, whose gaze still rested on me. Don’t make a mistake, Lia, not like— I saw my brother’s sightless eyes, the scattered pieces of body in the valley floor, the head of the butcher rolling to the ground. What had made me think I could ever outmaneuver someone like the Komizar? My head still spun with this turn I hadn’t seen coming.
While the Komizar was occupied with the chievdar to his left, I asked Calantha if she would deliver the acknowledgment of sacrifice tonight. My tongue felt like sand. My head throbbed. I wasn’t even sure I could conjure the words from my memory.
“No. It’s left to you, Princess,” she said. “You will do this.”
There was a strange urgency in her tone that made me stop and look more closely at her face. Her pale eye glistened, pinning me to my chair. Insistent.
The platter of bones was set in front of me, and I simply stared at it.
The room grew quiet, hungry, waiting. The Komizar kicked my foot beneath the table.
I stood and lifted the plate of bones and said the blessing in two languages as Kaden had done for me.
E cristav unter quiannad.
A sacrifice ever remembered.
Meunter ijotande.
Never forgotten.
Yaveen hal an ziadre.
Another day we live.
I paused, the platter trembling in my hands. There was stirring, waiting for me to finish, but I added more.
E cristav ba ena. Mias ba ena.
A sacrifice for you. Only for you.
And so shall it be,
For evermore.
Paviamma.
A rumble of paviammas returned to me.
The hunger of the Council and guests quickly overtook any notice of the added words, but I knew Rafe had noted it. He was the last to echo back paviamma to me as he looked down at the table.
The meal seemed to rush past. I had hardly taken a bite when the Komizar pushed back his seat, satisfied. “I have some news to share with you, Emissary.”
The clatter of the meal stopped. Everyone wanted to hear the news. My stomach churned with the small morsel I had eaten. But it wasn’t the news any of us expected.
“Riders from Dalbreck arrived today,” he announced.
“So soon?” Rafe asked, casually wiping grease from the corner of his mouth.
“Not the riders I sent. These were Rahtan who had already been in Dalbreck.”
Rahtan with news. My hand slid to my side, inching down for Natiya’s knife in my boot before I remembered it was gone. I eyed the dagger sheathed at Calantha’s side.
“It seems there may be some truth in your story. They brought news of the queen’s death of a widespread fever, and the king hasn’t been seen in weeks, either in mourning or on his deathbed as well. I’ll assume the latter until I hear more.”
I sat back and stared at Rafe. The queen. His mother.
He blinked. His lips half parted.
“You look surprised,” the Komizar said.
Rafe finally found his voice. “Are you sure? The queen was in good health when I left.”
“You know how those scourges are. They ravage some more quickly than others. But my riders witnessed a rather impressive funeral pyre. Those royals are quite extravagant about such things.”
Rafe nodded absently, silent for another long while. “Yes … I know.”
The pain of my utter helplessness surged through me. I couldn’t go to him, couldn’t hold him in my arms, couldn’t even offer him the simplest words of comfort.
The Komizar leaned forward, apparently noting Rafe’s reaction. “You cared for the queen?”
Rafe looked at him, his eyes as fragile as glass. “She was a quiet woman,” he answered. “Not like—” His chest rose deeply, and he took a drink of his ale.
“Not like that dried-up bastard she’s saddled with? Those are the toughest ones to kill.”
I watched the steel return to Rafe’s eyes. “Yes,” he said, a frightening smile on his lips, “but even the tough ones die eventually.”
“Let’s hope sooner rather than later, so your prince and I can strike our deal.”
“It won’t be long,” Rafe assured him. “You can count on that. The prince may even help matters along if he has to.”
“A ruthless son?” the Komizar said, his words dripping with admiration.
“A determined one.”
The Komizar nodded his approval of the prince’s pending patricide, then added, “For your sake, I hope very determined. The days do tick by, and my distaste for royal schemes hasn’t diminished. I graciously host his emissary, but not without a price that must be paid. One way or another.”
Rafe managed an icy grin. “I wouldn’t worry. You’ll be repaid tenfold for your efforts.”
“Very well, then,” the Komizar answered, as if pleased with the bounty promised, and motioned for the dishes to be cleared away. In almost the same breath, he ordered more drinks to be poured. The servants came forward with the expensive vintage of the Morrighese vineyards, one never shared beyond personal gifts to the governors. I chewed my lip. I knew what this meant. No, not now. Hadn’t he shared enough news for one day? Hadn’t Rafe heard enough for one night?
But then he twisted it into something even worse—he made me tell them. “Our princess would like to share some news too.” He stared at me, his eyes chiseled stone, waiting.
My muscles were loose, wobbly, drained of strength. It felt as if I had already walked a thousand miles, and now I was asked to walk one more. I couldn’t do it. I wanted to stop trying and cease to care. I closed my eyes, but a stubborn flame that couldn’t be doused still burned.
Convince them. Convince me.
When I opened my eyes, his gaze was still fixed on me, and I met his marble stare. He commanded a marriage, which in his own words meant many more freedoms, but more freedom also meant more power—something he hated to share.
His eyes grew sharp at my delay. Demanding.
And maybe that was the deciding prod in my ribs, as it had always been.
Another mile. For you, Komizar. I smiled, a smile he surely thought was by his order. I’d give him his marriage, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t turn some fraction of this moment to my advantage, and fractions of moments after that, until they added up to something whole and fearsome, because with my last dying breath, I would make him regret the day he ever laid eyes on me.
I reached out, caressed his cheek, heard the murmurs at the unexpected display of affection, then I pushed back my chair and stood on it. The tables that had been added to accommodate the additional elders and quarterlords at the meal reached to the end of the hall. By standing on the chair, I made certain they could all see and hear me. Hold my tongue, indeed.
“My brethren,” I called out, my voice loud and overflowing with all the grand flourishes that would please the Komizar. “Today’s a great day for me, and I hope when I share my news, you’ll agree it’s a great day for us all. I owe you all much. You’ve given me a home. I’ve been welcomed by you, shared your cups of thannis, been warmed by your fires, your handshakes, and your hopes. The clothes that adorn my back have come from you too. I’ve received more than I have given, but now I hope to repay your kindnesses. Today the Komizar has asked me to—” I deliberately paused, drawing out the moment, and watched them lean forward, sit taller, their mouths hanging open, breaths held, drinks poised, eyes riveted. I paused just long enough that the Komizar saw and understood that he was not the only one who knew how to command a room, and finally, when even he edged forward in his seat just a bit, I spoke again. “Today your Komizar has asked me to stand by his side, to be his wife and queen, but I come to you first, because before I answer him, I must know that you think my place here will serve Venda. So I ask, what say you, elders, lords, brothers, and sisters? Shall I accept the Komizar’s proposal? Yea or nay?”
A breathless hush filled the hall, and then a deafening Yea! Yea! Fists lifted to the air; hands pounded on tables; feet stomped the floor; tankards sloshed and spilled in toasts. I jumped down from the chair and leaned over the Komizar, kissing him fully and enthusiastically, which made the hall erupt in more earsplitting cheers.
I pulled back slightly, but my lips grazed his as if we were lovers who couldn’t part. “You wanted a convincing performance,” I whispered. “You got one.”
“A little excessive, don’t you think?”
“Listen. Are you not getting the results you wanted? Fervor, I think you called it?”
The hall still roared with excitement.
“Well done,” he conceded.
And then a question was shouted from an elder in the back.
“When will the marriage take place?”
The advantage was yet mine. Before the Komizar could answer, I called back to the elder, “At the rise of Hunter’s Moon to honor the clan of Meurasi.” Six days away. Cheers erupted again.
I knew the Komizar had envisioned an immediate execution of the wedding, but now it was not only announced publicly, it was a date that would honor the clans. The girl Meuras was born under a Hunter’s Moon. If he changed the wedding day now, it would be an insult.
The Komizar stood to accept congratulations. Quarterlords and soldiers pressed in, and I lost sight of him, but I saw that at least some of the governors wore wooden smiles, caught off guard by this new development. Perhaps they were unsettled that as Council they hadn’t been consulted, or maybe it was something else: that I would be queen. The Komizar hadn’t even blinked when I said it. If he had balked at anything, I thought it would be that. Vendans do not have royals. But I saw on our hillside rides how he seemed to flaunt it, a princess of the enemy.
A tankard was thrust into my hand, and I turned to thank whoever had delivered it. It was Rafe.
“Congratulations, Princess,” he said.
We were surrounded, our elbows and backs touching others who mingled in the crowded room, pushing us close together.
“Thank you, Emissary.”
“No hard feelings, right?” a nearby governor interjected.
“A mere summer distraction, Governor. I’m sure you’ve had a few of those,” I said pointedly. He laughed and turned to another conversation.
“Just a few days,” Rafe said. “That’s not much time to get so much ready.”
“Vendan weddings are simple, I’m told. A feast cake and witnesses are all that’s required.”
“How lucky for you both.”
The air was brittle between us.
“I’m sorry about your queen,” I said.
He swallowed hard, belying his fiery stare. “Thank you.”
I could see the rage crackling within him. He was a storm ready to tear loose, a warrior far past the point of holding back—weary of being a compliant emissary.
“Your dress is quite striking,” he said. He forced a strained smile to his lips.
The Komizar was suddenly at my side. “Yes, it is. She’s becoming more Vendan every day, isn’t she, Emissary?” He dragged me away before Rafe could answer.
The night wore long, every elder and quarterlord offering regards to the Komizar, but he received quiet, more devious nods from those who had met with him in his clandestine chambers. It was a strategic move and not a real marriage at all, not even a true partnership as the clans would expect.
I watched him slowly grow irritated with the talkative clan being in the hall. These were not truly his people. They spoke of harvest, weather, and feast cakes, not weapons, wars, and power. Their ways were weak, though he reaped his army from their young. Their only common goal was more. For the clans, more food, more future. For the Komizar, more power. For the promises he dangled before them, they gave him loyalty.
It was evident how much he really did need me when he walked away from one elder mid-sentence, his patience spent. He stopped short in front of me, his eyes clouded with wine, and pulled me behind a pillar.
“You must be getting tired. It’s time for us to go.” He called to Ulrix that we were retiring. It drew laughs from those within earshot.
I saw Rafe watching from a distance as if he might spring. I grabbed a fistful of the Komizar’s shirt, yanked him close, and whispered through a razor-tight smile, knowing we were being watched, “I will sleep in my own quarters tonight. If this is to be a marriage, it is to be a real one, and you will wait like all good bridegrooms do.”
The haze of wine was flushed away by his anger. His eyes cut through me. “We both know there’s nothing real about this marriage. You’ll do just as I—”
“Now it’s your turn to think carefully,” I said, returning his glare. “Look around you. See who watches. Which do you desire more? Me or the fervor of your people? Make your choice now, because I promise you—you can’t have both.”
His expression went cold, and then he smiled, releasing my wrist. “Until the wedding.”
He yelled for Calantha to escort me to my room and disappeared back into a circle of drunk soldiers.