I didn’t answer. It didn’t seem safe.

“Where is he now?”

“He built a castle on the edge of Atlanta, near my territory.”

“Your territory?” Erra barked a short laugh.

“I claimed Atlanta.”

She stopped and looked at me. “Claimed it how?”

“He tried to make it his, and I stopped him and made it mine.”

“How? Describe it, you imbecile.”

Screw you. “He made a giant magic spear and tried to stab me with it. I blocked it, then I levitated, and released a big pulse of magic.” I waved my arms. “Poof.”

“Poof?” Erra turned to my grandmother. “Ama, are you listening to this?”

Semiramis smiled.

“So you are Sharratum now? A queen?”

“I’m not a queen.” I had to keep reminding myself.

“And he let you do this?”

“He didn’t have a choice.”

“What are the terms? There must’ve been terms.”

“He promised me peace for a hundred years and then he built a castle on the edge of my territory. He’s taunting me, kidnapping my people, meddling, wanting to control every aspect of my life, getting offended over my wedding reception, sending assassins to . . .”

Erra raised her hand.

I shut up.

“How long?”

“How long what?”

“How long has this been going on?”

“About six months.”

“He’s been sitting by your territory for six months and hasn’t moved against you?”

“Yes.”

“You’re lying.”

“Why the hell would I lie?”

My aunt pondered and flicked her hand. An invisible magic hammer crashed into me. This time I curled before hitting the wall. Bonus points.

“You say you claimed this city. Prove it.”

I rolled to my feet.

“My land. My city,” Erra mocked. “Little baby princess. Pretender. Weakling.”

“Stop mocking me or you’ll regret it.”

The magic swept me off my feet. I rolled across the chamber. “You own nothing. You possess nothing.”

I got up to my feet.

“Liar.” She was getting ready for round three. I felt the magic shift. “Imposter. You bring shame to our name.”

“Enough!” I let my own power tear out of me and smash into my aunt’s. “I’ve fought and bled for that city. It’s mine and I have nothing to prove to you. You and my father brought enough shame to the family name. People cringe when they hear it. If you hit me one more time, I’ll throw your bones in the deepest sewer I can find.”

Erra’s eyes narrowed. “I’ll take your land and rule it as it was meant to be ruled.”

“No! It’s mine!”

“There it is,” Erra said. “Do you even know what this thing is that’s rearing its ugly head? Of course, you don’t.”

I opened my mouth.

“Quiet. I’m thinking.”

This was the stupidest idea I’d ever had.

Erra sighed. “It’s called the Shar. It’s an ancient word that came to us from an old language. A word of Adam. It means the right to rule. The urge to obtain and hold land was bred into our family. Do you know why dynasties fall?”

“Because they eventually produce an incompetent heir.”

“Yes. The Shar is the insurance that the strongest of our line is always in power. Once you have a taste of it, either it will devour you or you will triumph over it.”

“Is my father . . .”

“Consumed by the Shar? He was for a time, but he learned to control it long ago. It is a force within him, it does drive some of his behavior, but there were times he walked away from the land he claimed and stayed away for years. Im is a prince of Shinar. He received proper instruction in the use of his gift as soon as he was able to understand words. But you have very little defense against it. For one, you’re too young. You claimed too soon and too much. Second, you have no training. A child should be allowed to claim a small piece of land to become accustomed to the pressure. And third, the Shar is at its peak when two members of our family hold adjacent land. It is its very purpose: to force us against each other until a winner emerges victorious. This is why I chose to make no claim. I had no desire to rule.”

“And my father . . .”

“Your father is cruel. He’s torturing you. Sooner or later the Shar will drive you to move against him. All he has to do is wait, and he has all the time in the world.”

“But why go to the trouble? If he wanted war, why not break the treaty? Nothing stops him.”

“He’s given you his word,” Erra said. “The word of Sharrum is binding. It’s the bedrock of his kingdom. The real question is why go through the charade of the agreement in the first place. It makes no sense . . .” She paused. Her eyes shone. “Why should I help you?”

“You are my aunt.”

“And?”

“Look around you,” I told her.

“What about it?”

“It’s the tomb of our family.”

My aunt turned slowly, taking in the bare walls.

“My father, your brother, brought your mother here, because he was afraid she would rise and challenge him. He locked her in this stone box so he could control her. Do you know where we are? We’re in the heart of Mishmar.”