The captain and his crew seem confused for a moment before they realize they are dismissed. They quickly shuffle back into the crowd.
“And now,” Old Wusong says, addressing the entire hall again, “the new heir to House Leontes . . .”
The great heavy double doors of the hall swing open. Light streams into the room and silhouettes a tall, slender figure. I am swept aside to the flanks with the others to make way.
The sound of a harp rings. The figure strides gracefully across the walkway. It’s a woman, willowy and blonde, a Nightsider. Her lean muscles are powerful in their stride. As she glides, her head never dips or rises but remains perfectly parallel to the floor. No man could move like this, I think. Golden tresses cascade down her back.
“Try not to stare,” Lavinia whispers.
My stomach twists with embarrassment. “I think that’s what she wants,” I hiss back.
Lavinia tries appear as if she’s bored, but neither of us can miss the boy who follows at her heels. He’s perhaps four or five, dressed smartly in the navy-blue military uniform of House Leontes. Silver gauntlets and a ceremonial gorget flash in the twilight. A small cape trails each step of his shiny black boots. His skin is pink and perfect, his face round and flat with bright blue, curious eyes. They sparkle as they take in everything around the room. His head is framed by soft curls, the color of spun gold. He looks like a young, innocent version of Edric, I realize.
The woman steps onto the dais beside my father. His chiseled face beams at her and at the boy who follows behind her.
He did not look at me that way.
“Olympias of House Flanders,” Old Wusong rasps, almost wryly. “Your beauty is staggering, your gait as true as any Jian sword dancer.”
Two retainers emerge from behind the throne to help the old Patriarch stand on his creaky bones. Several more camglobes are released from the crowd. They hover around the dais to record the impending speech.
Has all of Tao heard what I said to the Grand Patriarch? I feel so stupid.
Olympias nudges the boy before the emperor. He bows. Old Wusong leans forward. “Tell me your name, child.”
“I am Edgaard Leontes, son of Edric the Leviathan. I present myself before Old Wusong for his es-es-es—”
“Esteemed,” his mother whispers in the boy’s ear.
“Esteemed judgment.”
“Very good, Edgaard,” the emperor croaks. “Do you swear to uphold the Balance? To serve the Pantheon and the people of Tao with strength and justice?”
“I do.” The boy nods.
The emperor sprinkles water from a small bowl across the boy’s brow. I feel like I want to cry. I don’t know why. “I bless this child, from Zhu the fire, from Gong the earth, from Mazu the water, and Shangdhi the air. May he embrace the light and the darkness. May he conquer all enemies before him and within him until he returns to the embrace of the ancestors. In the name of the Balance.”
“In the name of the Balance,” the crowd chants.
The camglobes hover. Edric steps forward and proclaims before all of Tao, “This is my son, Edgaard of House Leontes. Let all behold him and claim, ‘The son of Leontes is greater than the father!’ Edgaard Leontes is a leviathan. He is my heir!”
The crowd erupts in applause. I see the red-haired boy looking inquisitively at me from across the room, gauging my reaction.
I have a new brother, I think.
“Why are you clapping?” Lavinia’s cold voice prickles the back of my neck. “You’ve just been disinherited, fool.”
CHAPTER 2
DUET
“No!”
The shout rings through the chamber. The crowd turns as my mother pushes her way to the center. She stands before the throne of Old Wusong in defiance.
“No, my lord.” Her dark eyes flash.
Guards move to arrest her, but the emperor gestures for them to step back. “Speak, Daysider,” he says calmly, “and pray that I don’t remove your tongue for your insolence.”
“I am Cleopatra Muse, the daughter of Ishtal, who was chieftain of the Isle of Bone before you Nightsiders came and claimed land that wasn’t yours,” she states with bold disobedience. “You sent this man, Edric Leontes”—her arm flings out and points accusingly at my father—“and I was given a choice. Refuse him, and blood would be spilled on Bone, or accept, and should I bear a son, he would be named the heir of House Leontes. I did my duty. I bore a son for Lord Edric, and now he reneges on his promise and names this second son his heir? Old Wusong, descendant of the Great Song, I demand justice!”
There is murmuring among the crowd, but I’m too stunned to look at their faces.
My mother had me only to save her people?
From her words, I understand for the first time that her relationship with Edric was not a willing one.
“Is this true, Lord Edric?” The emperor turns to my father.
Edric’s muscles ripple beneath his navy robes and silver breastplate. “Words were spoken, your majesty. No written contract was ever made.” He and my mother lock eyes. Hers are dark pools of fire. His are glacial ice.
“Words spoken to a Daysider are as effervescent as the surf.” Old Wusong waves dismissively. “You have no claim, woman. I have designated your boy consort to my daughter because of his bravery, in spite of his heritage. Your son, though eldest, is a half-breed, and Lord Edric has made his choice. Be content with what you have been offered this day.”
My lips quiver at the word half-breed. The entire audience laughs at me and my mother. We are humiliated. Still, she does not back down.
“Then I renounce your claim to the Isle of Bone and to my son. Edmon and I will leave, and you will never again return to our shores.”
Edric steps forward. “You will not take my son, nor my land from me, woman.” His voice is soft and deadly.
Suddenly, it seems they are the only two people in the room.
“What do you care? Why abandon him for so long? He will learn our ways and find his own path.”
“There’s only one path before him now. He will marry the imperial heiress. You will not defy me or the emperor.” My father closes the distance to her. “I’ve let you keep him from his heritage for too long. Look at the tillyfish.” He scowls in my direction. “I can fish. I want to be a musician,” he says, mocking me.
I feel hot tears in my eyes even as the audience guffaws.
“Your ways won’t make him what he needs to be,” Edric says coldly.
“What he needs to be is nothing like you—ashamed of your low birth, crawling before the likes of these sycophants to a withered rag of an emperor. Leviathan? No, worm. You disgust me.”
There are gasps from the crowd, then a pregnant moment of stillness.
Rage ignites in Edric’s eyes. He grabs my mother violently and backhands her.
I’m frozen in place, not comprehending what’s happening. Old Wusong sits coolly indifferent on his throne. The crowd nods at the proceedings with silent assent.
Move! something inside me impels.