Chapter 21
Chapter Twenty-One
The morning sun catches on the shiny silver coins as I pass them from my palm to weathered hands. I’m supposed to be distributing food, blankets, medicine, and other essentials.
But I’ve tucked away some of my personal allowance too.
The palace treasurer would have an apoplexy if he found out, but what Felix doesn’t know won’t hurt him. And what good is being queen if I can’t slip a few extra coins to those whose cheeks have gone hollow with hunger?
Besides, no one’s watching too closely. I’m sure of it.
An elderly woman’s fingers tremble as they close around the provisions I’ve handed her. “Your Majesty is too generous.”
“It’s my pleasure.” I squeeze her shoulder gently. “Hopefully this will help get you through the winter.”
Behind me, several of the guards distribute larger packages. Sacks of grain, bundles of firewood, carefully wrapped vials of medicine. I’ve ordered them to spread out so we can cover more ground.
Efficiency, I’d claimed. In truth, I just want to be able to breathe without their hovering. Even Elijah, who’s only recently joined Windmyre’s royal guards, watches me with an intensity that prickles my skin.
Despite the early hour, the street teems with life. Merchants hawk their wares from makeshift stalls. The smell of fresh bread battles with the less pleasant scents of a waking city. Children dart between adults, their laughter a counterpoint to the serious business of survival.
This part of Tirene doesn’t see royalty often. The cobblestones are uneven beneath my boots, the buildings lean into each other like drunken friends, and the gutters…well, I’m careful where I step.
I reach into my satchel for another bundle as a young mother approaches, a baby strapped to her chest and a toddler clinging to her faded skirts.
“My Queen.” She attempts a shallow bow, cautious not to disturb the sleeping infant. “We’re honored.”
“Please. You don’t need to do that.” I wave away the formality. “How old?” I nod toward the baby, who has more hair than I’ve ever seen on an infant.
“Three months, Your Majesty. Her name is Scarlet.”
“A beautiful name. And your children are precious.” I add another blanket to her bundle. “Babies need extra warmth in the winter.”
My gaze drifts up to the rooftops, where out of season greenery pushes through gaps in the tiles. Even in the most unlikely places, life finds a way.
I’m so lost in thought that I don’t notice the figure until it’s nearly upon me. A shadow slides into my peripheral vision. When I spin around, I find myself face-to-face with a person in dark robes.
My heart stutters before I force it to steady. Dark robes aren’t that unusual. It’s what peeks from beneath them that has me on edge. Constellation marks trail up the figure’s wrist, disappearing underneath billowing sleeves.
The Devoted.
I glance around for my guards, but they’re exactly where I wanted them.
Several paces behind, distributing goods to a cluster of families.
Elijah’s back is to me as he passes a sack of grain to an elderly man.
In a handful of months, he’s gone from entitled aristocrat to a palace guard handing out charity to refugees.
“Your Majesty.” Though a hood obscures their features, the rough timbre of the Devoted’s voice sounds masculine. “What a blessing to find you among the people.”
The Devoted aren’t technically outlawed, but they’ve been linked to enough disturbances that their presence jangles my nerves. I’m particularly incensed over the one involving the missing scientist-priests.
I incline my head, keeping my posture open but alert. “I try to be where I’m needed.”
He steps closer, just inside the boundary of propriety. The intimidation tactic won’t work on me. “Indeed. I wonder if I might trouble you with a question. About the…changes we’re all experiencing.”
I immediately know what he means, but I force him to spell it out. “Changes?”
“The magic, Your Majesty.” His voice drops, becoming conspiratorial. “The way it’s fading. Like the gods themselves are abandoning us.”
“The court mages are investigating. We have our best minds working to figure out what’s happening.” In other words, royal bullshit for, We’re clueless.
While they claim to honor the whole pantheon, the Devoted worship Zeru above all other deities. This man seems genuinely interested in my response.
His head tilts just so, his body language conveying openness.
But something’s off.
The way he leans a little too close. The way his gaze never strays from mine, not even for a blink. He’s waiting for something. An opportunity. With his trimmed, clean nails, I suspect his hands have never seen hard work. They’re folded but loose. Ready. For what?
He takes another step, and an herbal aroma I can’t quite put my finger on wafts off of him. “But you feel it, too, don’t you? You, with your fire magic. Rumor is you’re the strongest in generations. Surely you’ve noticed the diminishment.”
My shoulders tense. How does he know about my magic’s strength? It’s not exactly a state secret, but it’s not common knowledge either.
Has he seen me use my power? Did he lurk in the shadows when I practiced merging with Sterling? “Magic has always had its ebbs and flows throughout history. This could be a natural cycle.”
“Natural?” He smiles, and his hood shifts to reveal a shock of white hair and the palest, most unnerving blue eyes I’ve ever encountered.
“Is it natural when prayers go unanswered? When the faithful call to the gods and hear only silence? Don’t worry.
” His voice drops, and his tone becomes more menacing.
“You’re not alone. You’re never alone. The stars watch you, my queen. And count your every breath.”
My skin crawls.
But I’ve dealt with worse than this silk-voiced, pampered zealot.
Hells, I’d rather confront him than a ballroom full of tipsy nobles any day of the week.
I straighten to my full height.
“Careful.” I don’t raise my voice, but I do sharpen it. Several townspeople swivel around to watch. “That sounded like a threat against your queen. And my dragons don’t like it when I feel threatened. Nor do I.”
The Devoted’s smile doesn’t waver. “Queens rise and fall. The gods are eternal. And I speak only truth. As Aletheia would want.”
After last night’s mangled vision, his casual mention of the Goddess of Light and Truth lands wrong. “You don’t speak for the gods.”
“No?” He tilts his head, the fluid motion reminiscent of a snake. “Then why do they grant us power? Why do they—”
“You prey on people.” I inch closer, the heat of my anger warming my skin. “Why? Why do you do that?”
His smile falters, though his eyes remain alight with malice.
Just for a second, a flash of something raw and hateful shines beneath the pious veneer.
“Those who destroy magic must pay the price.” His hand reaches under his cloak, but I’m faster.
One hand catches his wrist while the other goes to his throat. Not squeezing. Just there…and uncomfortably hot.
To remind him of who holds the power here.
One flex of my magic, and I could incinerate him. Truthfully, I don’t even have to touch him to do that, but the gesture’s surely gotten his attention. “I wouldn’t if I were you.”
People are definitely gawking now.
Good.
Let them witness how their queen won’t be intimidated. Even if my heart’s racing like a trapped hummingbird. Though I have no desire to burn a citizen alive.
His eyes widen, and his hand goes slack by his sides.
“Problem?” Bastian appears, his presence solid and reassuring. He doesn’t draw his weapon, but his hand rests on the hilt. “I would be more than happy to take him off your hands. Or I can remove his hands instead, if he doesn’t stop reaching for whatever is under his cloak.”
The Devoted man’s eyes flick between us. His lip curls like he’s disgusted just to be in our presence.
Or maybe it has something to do with the fact that I’m still holding him by the throat.
“No.” I release the Devoted, taking silent satisfaction in the way he flinches. “No problem. And it’s going to stay that way. Wouldn’t you agree?”
“Of course, Your Majesty.” The man holds my gaze for a heartbeat before disappearing into the crowd.
Bastian releases a low whistle.
I raise an eyebrow. “Care to enlighten me on what that means?”
His lips twitch, and his eyes sparkle. “For a minute there, I thought I was going to have to intervene.”
“Oh, please. I had him.”
“Wasn’t you I was worried about. How would we explain away Tirene’s queen burning one of the Devoted to a crisp?” Bastian tsks. “Not exactly the best way to win friends and influence people.”
I shoot him a glare, mentally congratulating myself for resisting the urge to make a very unqueenlike gesture. “Shut up, Bastian.”
He winks before motioning to a nearby guard.
Within seconds, the guards begin clearing the area of onlookers, their voices firm but not alarming as they direct civilians away from the scene. Most people move on, though some linger, either curious or concerned.
Elijah positions himself at my right, brows scrunched as I recount the near incident with the Devoted. “Should we find him?”
Chewing my lip, I consider what I want. The Devoted threatened me. Or at least, it felt like one. Which is good enough when it’s directed at a monarch. But arresting a member of the Devoted, even an inauspicious one, could spark exactly the kind of unrest they seem to crave.
In fact, that might be his real purpose here. “No, but once you do find him, follow him. Discreetly. Tell me where he goes, who he talks to.”
After I give a description of the man, Elijah and two other guards peel off, disappearing down an alley.
“Time to return to the palace, I think.” Bastian eyes the rest of the crowd. “We’ve distributed all the provisions.”
I’m tempted to argue, not wanting to come across as cowardly, but the encounter has left me feeling exposed. I reluctantly nod.
The trek back passes in a blur of cobblestones and unsettled glances. Bastian keeps close. He doesn’t speak until we’re safely inside the palace walls, away from curious ears. “What exactly happened back there?”
“A power play.” I’m not sure if I’m angry or frightened, and the uncertainty has me twitchy. “He was fishing for information about the decline of magic, but there was something, I don’t know, wrong about him.”
“Wrong how?”
I haven’t told anyone about the distorted message from Althy, but the man seemed to know. How? Are the Devoted so strong they can interfere with the gods’ communications?
I struggle to articulate what I mean without going into detail about my recent vision. “Like he knew things he shouldn’t.”
Bastian’s expression tightens, but he doesn’t press. “The Devoted have been growing bolder. This isn’t the first report of them approaching people in positions of influence.”
When we reach my chambers, I sink into a chair, exhausted despite the early hour.
Bastian stalks over to the side table where a teapot sits warming over a small brazier. “Fusion Root Vine Tea? It might help.”
In addition to hastening a magical merge, the tea is known for its hydrating and soothing properties. Queen Alannah started cultivating the plant in her garden over a decade ago, allowing its power to strengthen with age.
But as I open my mouth to accept the beverage, I change my mind.
No tea.
No hiding in my chambers.
I need something stronger than leaves steeped in water. “Dragons.” I stand abruptly, already excited. “I’m going to visit the dragons.”
Bastian raises an eyebrow but doesn’t argue. He knows me well enough to recognize when I’ve set my mind to something. “I’ll come with you.”
I nod, already feeling more centered at the thought of the fire paddock, of scaled wings and ancient eyes. If anyone can make sense of what just happened, of what’s going on with magic across the kingdoms, it’s the creatures who’ve lived with it longest.
Besides, no one would dare threaten me when I’m standing next to a dragon.