Chapter 25 #3
Nidara noted the shift in my gaze. “We call it our ‘fist.’ It’s meant to represent the hand of Blessed Mother Ignios holding us in battle and lending us her strength.
Every person receives one when they join the Royal Guard.
The blades are earned over time through skill and bravery.
” She finished my hair and stepped away, grabbing a matching harness from the armoire.
“You can have this one, if you’d like. I’ll get you some blades from the armory to fill it. ”
“Yes to the fist,” I said, taking it from her hands, “no to the blades. If women here have to earn theirs, so will I.”
She helped me slip on the harness and tighten its many buckles until it formed a snug cage around my torso. The name was fitting—I did feel as if I was being gripped within a powerful hand. It left me feeling stronger, bolder, and strangely, a little less alone.
Nidara walked to a drawer and pulled out a thin, triangular slice of Fortosian steel, perfect for throwing. She returned to my side and clasped it to a strap on my ribs. “You forced Ophiucae to retreat and saved your realm. If that doesn’t earn you a blade, nothing will.”
We embarked on a tour of the palace to check the state of the kitchen’s stocks—empty—and the palace water supply—even emptier.
The situation turned from bleak to disastrous when we stopped at the vaults that housed the royal gold.
The Crown’s transfer to me allowed me to finally open the bloodlocks, but what we found on the other side was not the overflowing trove the late King had boasted of having.
His embargo on trading with outsiders had stopped wealth from coming in, while his hypocritical indulgence in luxuries from abroad sent a flood of it out.
There were riches, but not nearly enough to sustain an entire city for years, or even months.
Nidara looked ashen as we walked away, the ominous reality weighing on us both.
I’d come to Ignios expecting to appoint local leaders to handle affairs and then return home as fast as Sorae could fly, but without my help, this city wouldn’t survive much longer.
Ophiucae hadn’t killed them, but the desert would.
We followed the sound of shouting to a long, narrow room. A strip of plush ginger carpet ran down its center to a platform topped with an oversized chair of copper and brass that resembled a rising flame. On either side of the aisle, men in colorful robes exchanged heated debate.
“The throne room,” Nidara explained. “And the men—”
“Let me guess,” I cut in. “The ‘good men who stayed silent’?”
My palm rose, and my godhood purred with malicious joy as I let my magic flow in a stream of red-hot, flickering flame.
At first, its slow crawl through the room went unnoticed as it slithered around columns and wove between legs.
The longer it stretched, the hotter it grew, and the heat in the room rose with it.
Men began plucking at their collars and fanning their necks, pearls of sweat glistening on their brows.
It wasn’t until the throne took on a bright crimson glow that their arguing quieted to baffled silence.
I snapped my fingers, and a ball of fire exploded at the head of the room, swallowing up the chair. It softened and sagged, pitching to one side, then melted under the blistering heat.
Panicked nobles jostled for the exits. A gust of Meros wind slammed the doors closed and sent the inferno roaring higher.
“What’s the matter?” I said loudly. “I thought you all liked a little fire.”
Their gazes turned to me—a horizon of sunset eyes, not one of them friendly. Another curl of my finger, and the fire died as quickly as it came, leaving the chair a heap of shapeless metal.
I flashed a scathing smile. “I’m not a fan of thrones.”
A man stepped forward. “Where is our King?”
“Dead,” I answered.
“Did you kill him?”
My answer stalled. Had I?
“The King died from his godstone wounds,” Nidara responded for me. “This is our new Queen.”
The man squinted. “Her eyes aren’t orange.”
“And that’s not the Ignios Crown,” another called out.
“It is,” I said. “And the Lumnos Crown. And Montios, and Fortos, and Umbros, and all the others.”
My claim was met with incredulity and sneering doubt, and an idea struck. I reached my mind beyond the bounds of my body and felt for the nine sparks of power that made up my Crown. I carefully plucked free the one that burned the hottest and tucked the others away.
With Umbros magic, I slipped into their minds to catch a glimpse through their eyes—the Crown of Ignios, with its single peak, sat atop my head.
With a bit more effort, the flames and sand swirled into the black mist of the Umbros Crown, then the waves of the Crown of Meros, then the sparks of Sophos, continuing all the way around the continent until each Crown had had its moment.
“Now do you believe me?” I asked.
An elderly man lurched forward, hand wobbling on his blackwood cane. “How is this possible?”
“It’s quite the story. But if you want to hear it, you’re going to have to follow me.”
As I made my way across the city, I called on my Meros magic and crafted two massive cobras of crystal-clear water to coil around me in a tall, elaborate display.
I became a walking fountain, glassy orbs swirling in the air while glittering arches splashed against nearby walls.
People rushed forward with buckets and cupped hands to catch whatever precious drop they could steal.
Perhaps it was cruel to lure them with the thing they needed most, but with this many lives at stake, there were few lines I wouldn’t cross.