Chapter Twenty – Scarlett
Chapter Twenty
Scarlett
I remained in Damar long enough to ensure order. It was a smooth transition: from the moment Aric had opened the gates and let my army inside, the Zigilians had understood that resistance was futile.
It helped that Drakos and his closest supporters were dead.
I could have locked them up or had them publicly executed – but it had been simplest to dispense with them quietly and quickly, allowing Malek to step into Drakos’s position.
As replacements went, he had been a popular choice – and not just because he was a seer.
Malek’s aptitude for politics and diplomacy almost equalled Avril’s.
Thinking of Avril was bittersweet. As per Malek’s request, I had ordered that she remain behind, along with some other Ravalian advisers.
Despite the peace agreement Malek and I had signed, it was necessary to have some close Ravalian oversight for a while – and I trusted Avril to coordinate the Masks in Damar, who had the daunting responsibility of keeping Malek alive and in power.
But I still would have preferred to keep her with me. I had come to like her – much like I had come to like Aric and Lillian.
Trumpets sounded as our boat approached the main dock. Most of the Ravalian fleet had accompanied Roran to Kalure, but I admired the vessels we passed, their golden sails billowing in the breeze.
The Azure Sea was calm and sparkling today; there was no trace of the afternoon storms that usually struck around this time. Above us, the sky was bright, the sun shining.
I couldn’t have imagined a better day for my victorious return.
Thousands of people had gathered to welcome home their princess: so many that the crowds extended from the docks all the way up the sloping Imperial Road.
I followed the trail of people with my eyes, taking in the familiar obsidian dome of the fighting arena and the ruby turrets of the Crimson Palace.
Somewhere in the palace, my mother was watching the spectacle. I wondered if she was pleased by the turnout.
If she was finally proud of me.
Then I remembered that I no longer cared what Zandri thought about me. And that I had disobeyed her direct instructions in order to install Malek in Drakos’s place.
This could be a very dangerous homecoming.
My hand tightened around the rail, and I focused on the steadying warmth of Aric’s body next to mine.
‘You look stunning,’ he said, probably noticing my reaction and assuming that I was nervous. He was right – but it wasn’t the crowds I was nervous to face. ‘Every inch the conquering queen.’
Empress , I almost corrected him. Instead, I bestowed him with a smile, accepting his compliment in the spirit it was intended.
‘This victory is as much yours as it is mine,’ I told him. ‘I would like to have you by my side. The people should honour their general.’
‘Of course, Your Highness.’ At my sharp glance, his expression softened. ‘Scarlett.’
We were now so close to the wharf that I could hear the people shouting my name, but I only had eyes for Aric. Dressed in polished black armour, he looked handsome and fierce, the sunlight playing over his tanned face and strong jaw. But his eyes were distant.
‘You haven’t come to my bedchamber for over a week,’ I whispered. ‘Ever since we took Damar.’
‘Lillian suggested that I give you space,’ Aric said, staring out over the water. ‘She told me about what happened to your lover.’
‘And here I thought you were avoiding me,’ I murmured, ‘because of what I did to Drakos and his supporters.’
‘I understand why you did it. There were other options, but they all came with their own set of consequences.’ Aric glanced back at me, but despite his words, I saw the truth reflected in his eyes.
How far could I push him before his morals demanded he push back?
But then we were docking, and the crowd was screaming, and for a brief moment, the old warmth returned to his face. I hadn’t realised how much I had missed it until then: the ease between us. His steadfast support.
Taking his offered arm, I stepped out onto the wharf.
I strode ahead, leaving Aric to follow at a slight distance.
My Warriors formed a guard behind me, but it was for show rather than protection.
My mother was no fool. Black-garbed Warriors were already in position, keeping the crowd back and maintaining order.
Somewhere, blending in with the ordinary people, Zandri’s Masks would be ensuring this parade went smoothly.
I glanced at the distant rooftops, suspecting that Masks were strategically placed to assassinate any would-be assailants.
A gilded carriage was waiting to take me to the palace. Riding in it was the intelligent choice – the safe choice. But my pride outweighed my caution. I wanted my people to see their future empress.
‘Unhitch the horses,’ I said to the driver.
He blinked at me. ‘Your Highness, your mother–’
‘Does not give the orders here. I do.’
I watched impatiently as the two Zigilian stallions were stripped of their harnesses. Then I swung onto the lead horse, and offered the reins of the second to Aric. He mounted in silence, his expression unreadable – but he surveyed the crowd and surrounding buildings with military focus.
Flower petals rained down from the rooftops as I pranced through the streets. All were red, the traditional colour for a victory parade. They drifted down onto my head and shoulders, vivid against the black of my horse’s mane.
‘Your Highness! Your Highness, welcome home!’
‘We love you, Princess Scarlett!’
Like I had in Damar, I raised my hand in response to the shouts and cheers. It was infinitely more satisfying to be celebrated for who I really was rather than hiding behind an illusion.
This , I thought as I rode past the people screaming my name. This is what true power feels like.
We continued around the arena and through the Higher Districts, where there were markedly fewer Warriors.
A commotion disturbed the soldiers ahead, and my stallion reared up unexpectedly.
My heart leapt into my mouth, knowing that it had finally happened – one of Roran’s agents was trying to kill me.
But when I calmed my horse, pulling back on the reins, I saw that a group of children had rushed out onto the road. Their mother darted after them and quickly tugged them back into line, bowing her head under the weight of my stare. I noticed that she was trembling.
‘What did she think I was going to do to her?’ I asked with irritation as we continued on. ‘Have her executed? Whip her children?’
Aric cast me a sideways glance. ‘No one would stop you.’
‘Because that’s exactly what I want to do after returning from months of war: order more bloodshed.’ Sarcasm was thick in my voice. ‘Even my father wasn’t that callous. Roran, maybe . . .’
‘The people don’t know you yet,’ Aric said. ‘Once they do, their wariness will fade.’
My temper flared. ‘They’ve had years to get to know me. It’s their own fault they never thought a princess was worth much.’
I urged my horse into a canter, my hair flowing out behind me like a crimson banner. Heedless of appearances, I left my Warriors far behind as I rode through the imposing imperial gates and into the manicured gardens.
I dismounted in front of the palace, handing the reins to the first servant to reach me. He bowed so deeply that it looked uncomfortable, his golden livery a brassy yellow in the hot sun.
‘I’ll wait for the other Warriors to arrive,’ Aric told me, still on horseback. ‘This is your moment.’
I nodded distractedly. Murmurs drew my attention to the nobles gathered on the palace steps; men and women I had known since childhood, who had never given a damn whether I lived or died. They curtsied and bowed at my approach, the women with preening, false smiles on their perfectly made-up faces.
I hated them all on sight. But I smiled back, allowing a hint of teeth to show.
Then their ranks parted.
Amongst the colour and finery of the nobles, Zandri was a pillar of darkness.
She wore her favourite fitted black combat outfit, her shoulders decorated with feathers that gave the impression of wings.
Her dark hair was cut as short as I remembered it, doing nothing to soften her sharp cheekbones and red lips, thin as a knife’s gash.
Even in her severity, there was a striking kind of magnetism about her.
A power and presence the nobles couldn’t hope to match.
‘Mother.’ I rarely called her that, but the word escaped my lips almost without permission.
‘Daughter.’ Zandri’s dark eyes were impossible to read. ‘A decisive victory.’
Even though I outranked her, Zandri made no attempt to descend the steps – waiting for me to come to her. She tilted her head as she watched me, a small smile playing across her mouth. Curious to see what I would do next.
I closed the distance slowly, my steps measured. I didn’t spare a single glance for my audience, keeping my attention on Zandri. She was the only one who mattered.
I wanted to hate her. I should hate her – for what she had done to Severin, for her lies, even for the way she had diminished my success with this little game. I felt the nobles watching us intently, and I knew Zandri’s power play wasn’t lost on them.
But I also knew that Zandri wouldn’t seriously damage my political standing. She needed me.
And I needed her .
The thought caused anger to rise, colder than ice. Harder than steel. But I hid it behind a dutiful smile as I leant in and kissed her cool cheek.
‘Don’t think you’ve bought their favour with this victory,’ Zandri said quietly, her narrow-eyed stare flicking over the gathered nobles. ‘They’re as fickle as sheep, and about as useful.’ Her eyes cut to me. ‘You should have followed my order.’
I had expected this – Zandri’s frustration that I had turned her victory into mine. That I had disobeyed her, and she had lost face in the process.