“They want to serve the God,” I continued. “They want to serve their country. The God has been trying to show us what he wants—he wants women to feed their families and serve. And I believe he wants me to lead them to it.”
Calix watched me suspiciously. “You wish to pound grain?” he asked.
I looked at my hands. “If I must. But I believe the Three-Faced God wants me to serve by helping women serve their country.”
“So you want women to work.”
“Yes.”
“And the Three-Faced God told you this?” he asked, his eyes narrowing.
I drew a breath. “I can’t claim to know,” I said. “But this idea came to me when I thought of how I might serve.”
“But you don’t believe in the Three-Faced God.”
This stopped me. I didn’t; could I lie outright about such a thing? “How else could I come by such an idea?” I asked, my voice hushed.
He scowled, standing. “I suppose that’s true. The women work in the factories—and we pay them?”
“Paying the women would mean they have money to spend. And money for tax,” I added.
“Hm. The labor will not interfere with raising families,” he insisted.
“The children are meant to be at the Erudium anyway.”
“But if a woman is with child, she will not work,” he said.
It seemed a small concession. “Of course not.”
He drew a slow breath. “Very well, wife.”
He walked inside, but I stayed on the balcony longer, looking out over the wild sea. I felt numb from the horror I had discovered, but I knew this was progress—this was something my mother would be proud of.
But now I knew the terrible price of the crown on my head, and I couldn’t forget that. And if I did, I feared it would mean sacrificing my humanity.
Salvation
Calix didn’t wear his uniform and declined a carriage as we walked out of the Three Castles. Both our guards and Adria flanked behind us—some of the men obvious, in uniform and formation—and others not, hidden and watching. The morning was gray and cool, the clouds overhead making shapes in the air that my people believed could watch our actions. Calix held my hand in his as we walked down the causeway, and for a moment, I imagined what we looked like—a young couple, hand in hand. Simple.
But nothing was simple. He had selected my dress for the morning; he had orchestrated the whole event to be another display, another showing. He had selected how many guards were attending to us and where they would be, and it was easy for him. Immense calculations he did without thinking.
We walked down the causeway, easily strolling the short distance to the grain mill. The few people in the streets followed us, watching, like we were a spectacle, a dog that had learned to walk on its hind legs. Calix tugged my hand, bringing me into the guarded entrance of the grain mill. The men standing watch sprang to attention, opening gates without a word from my husband.
Even before we entered the building, I felt the threads trembling just beyond my fingers, vibrating in time with the rumbling beneath my feet.
Stone, I realized. They must be using stone to grind the grain, and the force of it called to me.
My palm grew sweaty in Calix’s, but I didn’t pull away. I drew a slow breath, asking my power not to react. I remembered Kata’s warnings about having less control if I didn’t practice it, but I couldn’t do anything with my power here. Not with Calix—with everyone—watching.
When we entered, the low rumble stopped. There were fewer than ten men working at large stone stations in a room that had space for more than a hundred. The men stared at us, and there was noise and movement as someone rushed from a room above, skittering down a stone staircase on the far wall.
“My king! My queen!” he bleated as he came close. He was a round, balding man with bright red in his cheeks. He bowed, and then bowed again, and again.
“Stop,” Calix said, holding up a hand. The man straightened a little and backed away. “Come with me. All of you,” Calix ordered, waving his hand once to the others in the room. They looked at one another—wondering, worried—but Calix moved on, my hand still trapped in his. He went through a door and down a long stone hallway where light flooded in at the end. As we grew closer to the light, I could see the ragged lines of people waiting in the back.
We appeared, and again, everything froze. A moment later, the people who had waited so long for their grain fell back, afraid, desperate to get out of the reach or the sight of the king. The three people who were parceling out small bags of grain looked bewildered, and then they tumbled out of their chairs to bow before my husband and me. The people in lines took to this too, and everyone dropped to their knees.
“No,” Calix shouted, rushing down the steps to an old woman who couldn’t bend enough to kneel. He touched her shoulder and called a guard over to help her as he came back up the steps. “You do not need to humble yourselves further. The Three-Faced God has seen your humility, your dedication, and your fears. On this day, the Three-Faced God has seen fit to save you.”
Was that it? It seemed another game of power—servants refusing to bow to him diminished his power, but here, with his pageant graciousness, the refusal to let an old woman bow made him seem greater than he was.
The woman was weak and frail, and the guard knelt on one knee so she could sit on the other, and she wavered against him. I went down the stairs to her, looking at Calix. “My king,” I called softly. Calix looked at me. “This woman needs food and water. Desperately.”
Something like pleasure flashed across his face, but he turned to the overseer. “Food,” he ordered. “And water. All you have and can procure. Now.”
The overseer ran, and Calix nodded at a guard, who trotted after him.
“You will be well,” Calix told her, and she nodded against the guard’s chest.
“The Three-Faced God knows you wish nothing more than to serve your families, your country, your God,” Calix said. “But how can you do that without food for your children? Is not nourishment one of the greatest things a woman is called to give?”
There were murmurs and nodding.
“We are a strong people. A prideful people, and to beg for grain—it breaks us,” Calix said, pressing his hand over his heart like he knew anything of hunger. “The Three-Faced God has called for women to work—here, if you’re willing—to feed their families, to provide grain and food for their countrymen. I ask not for your humiliation but for your work. Who of you is willing to work, for your pride and for your families?”
The women and children were silent, stunned and frightened. The guard came back with water, offering it to the old woman as I looked out, my breath caught in my chest. Calix’s face folded into a deep glower as no one moved.
“I am, my king,” I called, stepping forward.
Calix raised an eyebrow, but his face lightened. “My queen—you want for nothing. Surely you do not need to be pounding grain,” he said, but it wasn’t reproachful—he was still using his loud voice, his voice that spoke of pageantry and stagecraft.