CHAPTER FOUR
ILLUSIONS OF POWER
I am so angry, my vision tints red and my throat burns from the effort it takes to hold in expletives as I march through the halls.
Months of planning and sleepless nights. Set alight by an arrogant stranger who’s never stepped foot in Widow’s Hall before today. And I know nothing about him. Secrets are power. The most effective weapons in my arsenal are all the things powerful men do in the dark. Without them, I’m defenseless.
I take a deep breath. Steel and ice. I’m made of steel and ice.
At least, that’s what I tell myself as I rap on the door to Luc’s study behind the dais.
My brother sits at his vanity, head thrust into his palms, shoulders hunched. Selectmen swarm him like flies around rotting meat, buzzing uselessly.
I clear my throat.
Luc raises his head and meets my gaze in the mirror above his desk. His shoulders loosen with relief. “Everybody out.”
The selectmen frown in confusion until they see me. Their expressions collectively curdle like milk left out in the sun.
“Sir,” one of them starts.
“Out.” For once, Luc is firm without me having to remind him.
His guards grumble, but obey. It doesn’t stop them from giving me their usual glares soaked in resentment, or from shoving their shoulders against mine as they pass.
I stay stoic and say nothing until they’re gone. “This was my fault.” I place a gentle hand on Luc’s back. “I should’ve reserved more votes.”
A lie. I make the votes as close as I do because winning requires a delicate balance of give and take. It’s why I do favors for all the Honorate, not just Luc. Why I ensure not every order Luc proposes passes. Why the orders the Shadow Queen nudges along always win by near ties.
People need to believe either side has a chance of winning. Otherwise, brows would rise and revolutions would stir. Important votes are always split down the middle, to create the illusion of choice. Give people the illusion of power.
Luc pushes back his chair to pace. He’s quiet, which means he needs more cajoling. “There’s no need to worry.” I keep my voice soft. “Sef and I are going to dig. By this time tomorrow, we’ll know everything about Kaidren Vale. Every lie, mistake, and mess he thought he’d swept clean.”
“What if there isn’t anything?”
“Everyone has secrets.”
Luc stops pacing. He squints at me, analyzing my carefully neutral expression. “You’re truly not stressed about this?”
Of course I am. “No.”
“You’re sure everything will work out?”
No. “Absolutely.”
He shakes his head, looking a combination of bewildered and awed. “I don’t know how you do it, Mira.”
There’s a knock on the door before I can reply. Luc looks startled, but I roll my eyes. “Probably one of your guards come back to be useless some more. I’ll get rid of him.”
I fling open the office door, intending to tell the selectmen to leave us alone. My eyeline is fixed where I expect the guard’s to be, but I find myself staring at someone’s chest. A broad chest that’s straining the confines of its emerald sweater.
Slowly, my eyes trail up, over the toned contours of his torso, muscles of his shoulders, and chiseled jaw, until I’m staring into the deepest brown eyes I’ve ever seen.
Kaidren Vale.
He’s looking me over, eyes widened, head tilted with curiosity, as though I’m the most fascinating creature he’s ever seen.
After years of hovering in shadows, being looked at so thoroughly stirs something in my gut. “Can I help you?”
His assessing eyes finish their perusal and meet mine. His gaze is bright, eager, and friendly. “Pleasure to meet you.” He holds out a hand for me to shake. “I wanted to—” Kaidren’s words falter as he catches sight of Luc behind me.
His demeanor shifts.
That relaxed, curious light in his eyes extinguishes like candlelight in the rain. He’s no longer looking at me like I’m interesting—he’s not looking at me at all. He’s stiff as a plank, flashing Luc a broad, perfect smile that’s completely devoid of life. He lowers his hand. “Is there water?”
I blink, startled by the sudden change. “What?”
“Water?” He’s still not looking at me. “I’m thirsty. Fetch me some?” He sidesteps me before I can tell him I don’t fetch things, and makes his way to Luc without sparing me another glance.
Whatever warmth flickered within me when he first appeared in the doorway is stone cold. Destroying my carefully laid plans in chamber wasn’t enough—no, Kaidren Vale has to be a dismissive asshole just like everyone else.
I glower at no one and slam the door.
“Pleasure to meet you, sir.” Kaidren thrusts out a hand to Luc. “My sincerest apologies for interrupting you earlier. I meant no disrespect.” His words are smooth and practiced. I get the feeling he stared in the mirror for hours, rehearsing those lines again and again, to make them believable.
He’s successful. Taken at face value, he sounds convincing. Except for the sudden flare in my gut.
It’s chilling. Not the fact that he’s lying—I’m used to liars—but because of how good he is at it. If I didn’t feel the rush of magic, I might have missed the way his wide, near-perfect grin is the slightest bit uneven, tipping it over the edge from genuine to taunting.
It’s subtle. Subtle enough Luc doesn’t notice and shakes Kaidren’s hand with a smile of his own. “The pleasure is mine. I still have to confirm—”
“Of course.” Kaidren cuts him off again.
My teeth grind together.
“I’m just so excited to meet you,” Kaidren continues. “I have so much respect for you. I’ve never been one to listen to rumors, and I certainly don’t think your reign is tainted by the fact that you didn’t compete in the Tournament.”
With every word, the searing sensation of my magic intensifies.
The Republic spends years looking forward to the Tournament of Thrones.
People from all over Virdei travel up the mountain to the arena to watch.
We even invite guests from Petruvia, a nearby coastal kingdom, to stay in Widow’s Hall during Tournament season.
Virdei is all about illusions and projection.
The Praeceptor is expected to do more than win—he must prove to the world that he’s earned his power.
Luc took the throne without competing, and there have been rumors swirling ever since that he’s unfit to rule.
And here Kaidren is, rubbing Luc’s nose in it.
Another day, I might’ve been willing to let the snide comment slide, but Kaidren wrecked my plans, snubbed Luc, and tried to order me around like I’m worthless.
Which means I have the right to ruin him and enjoy every second of it.
“Should His Honored Praeceptor expect to see you at tomorrow’s council meeting? ”
Kaidren’s smug smile slips. “What?” He whirls to face me. “There’s another meeting tomorrow?”
“Of course.” It takes all of my willpower not to smirk. “To vote on the order from today.”
“That order failed.”
I smile sweetly. “Forgive me. I know little about Honorate meetings, but I was under the impression that today’s vote was a draw.
Which—I think—means the Honored Praeceptor can call a revote whenever he so chooses.
” I channel all the innocence I can muster into widening my eyes. “He chooses tomorrow.”
Kaidren’s face is pinched, as though he just smelled something foul. “If that’s so, I’ll be there. And, once again, I’ll cast my vote in opposition.” He turns to Luc, looking more irked than before. “Again, a pleasure to meet you, sir. I look forward to seeing you tomorrow.”
My insides are on fire as he gives a parting lie and leaves without so much as glancing in my direction.
He’ll pay for that later. He’ll pay for all of it. Kaidren thinks he’s playing a game and that he’s winning. He thinks he’ll win again tomorrow. And he thinks his opponent is Luc.
Kaidren is wrong. About all of it.
His true opponent is me. And I don’t play games.
I win.