She fought to go on: “I swear to uphold the honor of the Empire, enforce its laws, and serve it to the best of my ability, as long as—”
Another gust of wind tore through the room, so strong it ripped a lily loose from Talia’s braids. The flower fell, quiet and spinning, to the gold-and-white marble floor. She stared at it, feeling strangely outside of herself.
“As long as—as long as I draw breath,” she finished, still looking at the fallen lily.
There was no applause, no toasting—the courtiers were confused by her speech. The bells rang on and on, until Talia thought the world might be swallowed up in their noise.
And then, as suddenly as they’d begun, they stopped.
The ballroom doors burst open, and the Emperor’s personal guard marched in: twelve helmed soldiers with blue sashes slung across their bare chests. Half carried sabers, blades naked and ready in their hands, the other half spears. Talia gaped, not understanding.
Until she saw, striding behind them with a tiger-sharp smile, Eda Mairin-Draive.
Chapter Three
SILENCE ECHOED AS EDA STOOD THERE, SMILING, her glance sweeping over the glittering courtiers. She was dressed in a simple, old-fashioned gown the color of pomegranates, with gold clasps at both shoulders and an embroidered, blue belt. Lilies crafted in delicate gold leaf crowned her head and oils gleamed on her skin. Talia recognized both dress and crown as exact replicas of those worn by the goddess Raiva in a mural in the old palace temple. Talia wondered faintly if equating oneself with a goddess was profoundly arrogant or just blasphemous.
Eda spoke, her voice echoing sharply through the deathly quiet hall: “His Imperial Majesty Scain Dahned-Aer, Emperor of Enduena, Lord of Ryn, and Ruler of Od, is dead, claimed this hour by his long illness.”
The crowd gasped, and Talia stared numbly at Eda. Her heart beat too fast, too hard.
Eda’s smile sharpened. “I am His Imperial Majesty’s heir. For proof, I present to you these documents”—she snapped her fingers and a pair of attendants stepped forward, unfolding cream-colored pages affixed with the Emperor’s seal—”and His Imperial Majesty’s ring, which he bequeathed to me before he died.” She lifted her left hand high for all to see: a heavy gold ring in the shape of a tiger chasing its tail, with rubies for eyes.
And then Eda’s own eyes found Talia’s. “This girl is an imposter, and a traitor to Enduena.”
Talia stepped down from the dais almost without realizing it. “No.”
“Evidence has been found detailing her long correspondence with Denlahn, and her plot to seize the throne.”
“No!” Talia stood frozen on the dance floor, staring into the sea of courtiers who just moments before had meant to toast her health. They glared at her now, murmuring angrily. Some of them cursed and a few spat at her. She found Ayah in the crowd, her friend’s face wracked with confusion and betrayal.
“Seize the traitor!” Eda commanded.
Two guards came forward and clapped their hands on Talia’s shoulders, their fingers biting like stones into her skin.
“No!” she cried. “I haven’t done anything, there’s been a mistake—”
But they were already dragging her away, across the dance floor and past Eda, who didn’t even look at her as she went by.
“Arrest her mother, too,” said Eda calmly.
“No!” Talia screamed, writhing in the guards’ grasp. “Eda, you can’t!”
Eda glanced back at her, one eyebrow arched upward. “That’s what you’ve never understood, my poor, dear Talia.” She smiled. “I can do anything I want.”
Talia woke to the noise of bells and the choking scent of moldering stone pressed up against her cheek. She jerked upright, heart stuttering.
Images of her own beheading had haunted her through the night.
She was shocked she’d slept at all.
Where was her mother? What was Eda planning to do to her? To both of them?
And she couldn’t stop thinking about the look of betrayal on Ayah’s face. Did her friend really believe her capable of treason?
She hugged her knees tight to her chin.
The hours spooled slowly away, one thread at a time. Talia got up and paced the confines of the tiny cell: five steps from one wall to the other, just three between the hardwood door and the bare stone sleeping ledge.
After a long while she heard bells again, distant cheering, the brash ringing of trumpets.
She sat back down on the stone ledge, folded her hands in her skirt. Waited.
Waited.
Waited.
Perhaps that’s all Eda intended for her—to waste away into nothing and fade into the stone, turn to dust for the wind to scatter.
The day was at least half gone by the time she heard footsteps on the stone outside her cell.
She went over to the door, heart pounding. There came the jangle of keys, the creak of wood, and the door opened, the sudden blur of orange torchlight making her eyes tear. She blinked rapidly, trying to adjust to the light.
Eda stood there, two guards at her back, that same gold-lily crown from last night circling her black hair. She was dressed in a deep-green gown, clasped again at the shoulders in gold. Her bare arms gleamed with scented oils and she wore a dagger at her waist. “Didn’t you ever learn to show deference to your superiors?” she said coolly. “You will bow before your Empress.”
Talia sank to her knees on the hard stone floor, hating that she shook, hating that Eda saw it.
“You tried to take everything from me. My birthright, my crown. You dared imagine you could be Empress, and now you grovel at my feet.”
Talia jerked upright, staring Eda directly in her kohl-rimmed eyes. “I never wanted to be Empress—I never wanted any of this. I certainly didn’t try to take anything from you. You always thought you were so neglected and miserable, soliciting sympathy while putting yourself above the rest of us. You—the Governor of Evalla!”
Eda’s eyes glinted. “The regent never thought me capable of ruling Evalla, Talia. I decided to take the Empire instead.”
“You told the court I conspired with Denlahn!”
“Denlahn is easy to hate. Easy to blame.” Eda shrugged. “I did what I had to, fought for every scrap of power I possess. It was just handed to you, and you squandered it. That’s why this morning I bathed in the sacred pool and was crowned Empress of Enduena, while you cowered in a cell like the miserable rat you are.”
Talia studied Eda in the torchlight. “What do you want with me?”
Eda smiled, sharp and humorless. “I want to pluck your heart out and use your sinews for harp strings.”
Talia took an involuntary step backward, but Eda caught hold of her chin, fingers digging deep, forcing her to be still. She squared her jaw, despising her own terror.
“But death is quick. Living is not. I want you to feel the depth of your own insignificance.”