“Fear is healthy,” he said with a dismissive wave. “No, this is an excellent idea. But how best to show them that they should be afraid?”
“You cannot tell me it was easy to see children clinging to their mothers in fear,” I said.
“Where are the ishru?” Calix shouted toward the door as he stood from the bed.
The door opened, and Zeph bowed his head to me as the women in white filtered in like wraiths. They bowed to Calix, and then stood and nodded to me.
Calix stopped. “What is the meaning of this?” he demanded. “Why would you not bow to your queen?”
The ishru all dropped to their hands and knees, and I jumped from the bed as Calix towered over one. “Calix,” I told him, coming by his side. “I told them not to. I don’t like it.”
“Don’t like it?” he demanded.
“Yes,” I said. “I don’t want them bowing to me. I don’t want you making people humble themselves before me.”
He squared his shoulders off against mine. “And what would happen if the Concilium saw that a slave no longer needed to bow to a queen? Or to my other vestai? I was crowned king as a child, Shalia, and they will always see me as a child. I can barely retain the respect that I have clawed from them, and it sounds foolish and small, but something so simple as a slave failing to show proper deference could threaten my position as king. And your new attendant will be watching you always, ready to report these infractions to her father. How the Thessalys would relish hearing that a slave doesn’t bow to a king.” He shook his head. “Ruling cannot be about emotion, my sweet. It has to be about power and control. Always.”
“True power does not force others to make themselves smaller,” I told him.
Anger simmered in his eyes. “No, wife. You’re wrong.”
My eyes met his. How could he truly believe that?
“Apologize to me for your foolishness.”
My mouth opened in shock. “It’s what I believe, Calix,” I told him.
He stepped closer to me, and I stepped back. “You are my wife. You will believe what I tell you to believe. Apologize.”
My eyes burned. “Calix,” I said, shaking my head.
He stepped forward, and as I stepped back again, there was a sick feeling inside me I recognized as fear. He didn’t just want his people afraid—he wanted me afraid. And I was. “I’m sorry,” I whispered.
“For what?” he demanded.
“For my foolishness,” I said.
He nodded once, leaning his head closer to mine. “So you see,” he murmured. “That is power.”
The ishru dressed me, and when I was done, Calix was waiting in the chamber, straightening his own clothes as he dismissed the servants. “Lovely,” he said, his eyes brushing over me. “You are right, wife. We must look to the children of this nation, first and always. I would like you to go to the Erudium today and allay their fears. Coddle the children and convince them that they were right to be afraid, but we will protect them. Tell them to tell their praeceptae and parents if they see sorcery.” He shook his head. “No—tell them that only with their help can we protect them.” He nodded, a smug smile on his face.
“What is the Erudium?” I asked.
“A temple of learning,” he told me. “Where our young men are educated and our young women are groomed.”
“Groomed,” I repeated.
“Yes,” he said. “Taught in the arts that will serve them as wives and mothers. Sewing, how to fix their hair, that sort of thing. We’ve seen the dangers of overeducating women in other countries—we do not make such mistakes in the Trifectate.”
I remembered my father laughing and saying that he would rather spend more time educating his daughters, because they were the true leaders in every home, and to educate them was to educate a whole family at once.
My head fell at the memory. “What will you do?” I asked.
“Instruct the vestai to spread word of the same throughout their lands,” he said. “With one difference—that they will receive a tax credit for every Elementa that they produce. It’s brilliant—my vestai swear their first loyalty to their overflowing coffers, and it will keep them busy and happy, and quash the Resistance.”
I gasped. “Calix!”
He came and kissed my cheek with a bright smile. “You inspired the idea, my love. Thank you.” His hand slid over my chin, drawing it to him and pressing his mouth to mine. “You are good for my kingdom, wife.”
Irredeemable
When I left the room, Adria was outside, and she bowed to me. I no longer had the will to ask her to stop, so I merely sighed, and straightened my back. “You will show me to this Erudium?” I asked.
“Yes, my lady. And your guard?”
“Stays with her,” Zeph said.
“Very well,” she said with her sly smile. “This way.” She led me to the courtyard, and a waiting carriage.
I drew a breath. “Is this building somewhere in the Tri City?” I asked.
She looked warily at Zeph. “Yes.”
“Then we will walk there.”
“But—” she gasped. “We cannot walk there.”
“You will lead the way,” I told her. “Or I will tell the king you refused to take me.”
She huffed, looking at her thin silk shoes like they would melt away, and walked down the wide causeway. “It isn’t close. And they’re expecting us quite soon. In fact we should have been there already. An absence that will not go unnoticed, I’m sure.”
I glanced at Zeph, and he glowered at her in return.
She looked at me, pausing as she walked. “I don’t mean to be disrespectful; I know that you haven’t been here before, and I just want to make sure you know of our ways,” she told me. “I am your attendant, after all, and no one wishes to displease the king.”
I recoiled a little, unsure if this was meant as a threat or some kind of bait to get me to speak ill of my husband. “We will walk,” was all I said to her.
She bowed to me. “Of course, my queen.”
As Adria, Zeph, and I left the Tri Castles, the recognition from people was instant—even in their clothes, my skin was so different from anyone’s in the Bone Lands. A few had a warm yellow tone to their skin, but nothing like my and Kairos’s rich brown. Still, not many people were in the streets, and those who were there barely raised their eyes to me as they moved quickly past.
We passed a large building with a low rumbling noise coming from it that shook the ground a little, and Zeph nodded to a man in uniform as we walked by. “What’s that?” I asked.
“A grain mill,” he told me. He pointed to a long wall that ran out behind the building as far as I could see. “Grain gets sent on the road, and men grind the grain to make flour.”
I nodded once, and as we walked farther, we saw long lines of weary-looking women and children standing at the back of the mill. I frowned, looking at Zeph.
He raised his shoulders. “They are waiting for their grain allowance.”
“Is there not enough grain?” I asked. “The fields looked so healthy on our way down here.”
“There’s enough grain,” he said. “But not the men to grind it.”
“Where are the men?” I asked.