CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
WHEN THE SMOKE CLEARS
The glare I direct at the floor is withering. Footsteps scuttle out of my way, clearing a path for me as I stomp the halls, back to the tiny room I’m forced to call mine.
I slam my door behind me. Bang my head against the solid wood with a groan and slump to the floor. The tears I’ve been keeping at bay release.
Sobs shake my body so violently, I don’t realize I’m not alone.
“You’re alive.” Sef stumbles out of my bed and throws her arms around me. Never mind that I’m still on the floor. She joins me. “Don’t do that to me again. I was so worried about you.” Her relieved expression sobers as she pulls back and really takes me in. “Oh. You already heard?”
I swipe tears from my face, sniffling. “Heard what?”
“Those fields in Ophera. We lost them. Petruvia formed a barricade around Farvelle, and now Virdei can’t get through. If we try to strike back, we’ll start a war.”
The tears I just wiped away threaten to come back. I want to curl into a ball and weep away the next five years. I want to find Luc and scream at him for not listening to me. But as furious as I am with him, I’m more upset with myself. “Did anyone die?”
Sef shakes her head. “Not as far as I know.”
“I should’ve stayed.”
“You couldn’t have changed this. You saw that letter. Petruvia was planning this for months. Nothing you did would’ve stopped this.” Sef settles next to me, resting her head on my shoulder. “Maybe it won’t be so bad.”
“Petruvia treats Opherans like dirt.”
“So does Virdei.”
“At least when it’s Virdei, I can do something.
” I slam my head against the wall angrily.
Thanks to me, the Honorate have passed orders that ended the extortion of landlords in Ophera who would lure in renters with low rates and then raise prices after the first month; there is more funding for things like public bonfires; and resources have been allocated for schools to teach trades and crafts.
Ophera is still far from perfect, but I’ve done what I can.
Widow’s Hall is named for the first—and only—Queen to rule Virdei by herself. This was shortly after Virdei began building up the mountain, back when it was still a monarchy. The Queen’s husband died before they conceived, leaving her a childless widow.
Widow’s Hall is named for her. It started as a mean-spirited nickname coined by the men who resented her rule to demean her. She embraced the title to spite them and officially renamed the mountainside fortress Widow’s Hall herself, so no one could call it so behind her back.
In the end, the men who despised her got the last laugh. In retaliation, they formed the Honorate. They claimed it was to “advise” the ill-prepared Queen, but considering only men were allowed to serve, its true intention was clear.
Toward the end of her life, the Queen’s mind started to slip.
It was around the same time that Petruvia made its attempt to seize the mountain and its resources.
On the brink of war, the Widow Queen selected a member of the Honorate and temporarily ceded her authority to him to manage the crisis.
She died before he handed power back to her, making him Virdei’s first Praeceptor.
Shortly after, the rules for succession were written to include only men, sending a clear message in the wake of her death: never again will a woman hold as much power as the Widow Queen.
That was their intention, but it’s no longer a reality I’m willing to accept. When the Tournament is over, when I steal the throne from my brother, I am going to ensure nothing like this ever happens again. If I can’t protect Ophera as Luc’s shadow, then I’ll do so as Virdei’s Queen.
Sef pulls her head from my shoulder. “If you hadn’t heard about Ophera, why were you so upset when you came in?”
“We lost.”
Sef looks relieved. “That’s it?” She wraps me in a tight hug. “I thought you were hurt. Or worse.”
After a pause, I hug her back. I didn’t mean to make her worry, but it feels nice to know someone cares. Nice to be held by someone trying to comfort me, and not the other way around. “Thank you,” I murmur. “For worrying.”
She helps me to my feet. “Don’t take it too personally. I’m just afraid that if you die, they’ll assign me to someone else. I doubt my next mistress will let me wear costumes.”
I laugh. “Maybe they’d even ask you to clean something.”
Sef fakes a shudder. “Don’t joke about that.”
I’m still chuckling as she guides me to sit on the bed. We lean back, shoulders against the headboard. “So, what happened?”
I tell her everything, from my journey up the mountain, to the crash, to Kaidren saving my life, then turning on me.
When I’m finished, she’s shaking her head. “You almost died.”
“But I didn’t. Told you I’d come back.”
Sef doesn’t look amused. “You take too many risks.”
“Only for now. Things will be different when I’ve taken the throne. For both of us.”
“I don’t need things to be different. I like this life. This—working for someone like you—was always my dream.”
“You dreamed of being a servant?”
“What’s wrong with being a servant?” She shrugs, then smiles. “All I ever wanted was to work for someone kind.”
“Instead you got stuck with me,” I say.
My tone is teasing, but Sef frowns. “Don’t do that. I’m glad I was assigned to you. Hate to break it to you, Mira, but you’re stuck with me.”
It flatters me more than I care to admit. Sef is so easy to love. She’s charismatic and funny and everyone adores her. Making friends is effortless for her in a way it’s never been for me. “I’m glad you were assigned to me too.”
“Working for you has gotten me everything I ever wanted,” she says. “It’s fun. I get to gossip, wear costumes, and call it work. Maybe I’m just a servant, but I’m happy. Happier than most people ever are, and definitely happier than you. You hate it here.”
I can’t argue, so I don’t. I stare at my tattoo, tracing it with my finger. There was a time when the sight of it filled me with wonder. A time when it made me feel connected to my home and my mother, and I thought it was the most beautiful thing in the world. That feeling died a long time ago.
“When I was a kid, I thought the mountain was everything I ever wanted,” I say softly.
“I was wrong. Before, I had nothing, but here, I’m invisible.
When I’m not invisible, I’m scorned. And I’m tired.
All the time. I have to think for Luc, for Ophera, for the Honorate, for myself.
I’m shredding myself into a million pieces, and still, no one sees me. ”
“You could stop.”
My eyes flash to Sef, angry. “You mean give up?”
“Maybe.”
Mathson took everything from my mother, and she never fought back. He got the house on the mountain, the position in the Honorate, the perfect life. She got nothing.
“You’re either useful to me, or you’re nothing.”
I’ve spent five years being useful. Being Luc’s brain so he never has to think, and I’m still nothing.
“I want to feel like I matter. I’ve earned the right to matter.
Men with power take and take, and they give nothing back.
I want to be so powerful that no one can take it from me, no one can threaten me, or ignore me, or discard me.
People like Luc have unassailable power.
Is it so wrong for me to want the same?”
This world never made space for me. So, I carved room for myself into the mountain. Shoved myself into the narrow opening. And I’ve been clinging on ever since.
My arms are tired. I want enough power to feel stable. Enough that no one can yank it all away from me at a moment’s notice.
“Maybe it’s not wrong,” Sef says. “But if you’re not careful, it’s going to get you killed.”
To hell with caution. The original Honorate weren’t cautious when they took the throne from the Widow Queen and never gave it back.
That’s exactly how I intend to steal the throne from Luc.
No one gives up power willingly. Selva Sixmen resigned from the Honorate because he was forced. The Widow Queen ceded power to an Honorate because she was sick, they were on the brink of war, and she had no other options.
If I manufacture a crisis, I can force Luc’s hand.
Create a catastrophe so urgent, he’ll need me—as he always does.
Then all I have to do is incapacitate him so he has no choice but to temporarily cede power to me.
He trusts me. With a crisis on his hands, with no other options and no one else around, he would do it.
He’d never suspect me, his sister, of keeping the power he entrusted her with.
Never suspect me of using the Shadow Queen to force the rest of the Honorate into line.
By the time he realizes what’s happening, it will be too late.
It will break his heart. But he’s broken mine so many times, I no longer know guilt. She’s a distant memory.