The Impostor Queen (The Impostor Queen, #1)

I think about that for a second. Every part of me hurts, but my mind is clear. And the more I think about what’s happening, the more frightened I am. “Where are we going?”


“I’m taking you to my family. But first I have to report in to the temple matron to keep her from raising the alarm, so you’ll be on your own for an hour or two. I’ll join you as the sun rises, before the elders even know we’re gone.”

“You’re really coming with me?”

Her grip on me tightens. “I would never leave you.” She chuckles. “Who would dress you in the morning? Who would brush your pretty hair? And we could go anywhere from here. It’s an adventure, if you think about it.”

I am thinking about it—the possibility of living with her, however humbly, is like a bright torch in all this darkness. And so is her love for me. I know it’s the love of a servant for her mistress, perhaps a big sister for a little one, not the same as mine for her. Still, it’s real and warm and I need it, especially now that I’ve lost everything else.

We reach the bottom of the steps and Mim pushes open a thick wooden door, wincing as it grates against the stone frame. The inky wash of night greets us, though I know dawn must be approaching. “If you walk this path here—” She moves her finger along a trail of white stones shielded by a high wall so that the views from the temple and the white plaza aren’t marred by servants going back and forth. “You can go around the gates this way—it’ll get you to the northern road. Follow it until you reach the square, then wait for me next to the blacksmith’s. It’s a warm place to sit and rest. I’ll bring more food with me when I come.” She presses a hunk of bread into my hand. It’s been ripped open and a thick slice of hard cheese has been wedged into its center. My mouth fills with saliva.

“Go,” she whispers. “I’ll see you soon.”

Her brown curls are a chaotic tangle around her face, and the brightness has returned to her blue eyes. Her cheeks are flushed. She’s so beautiful and cheerful as she saves me from certain death, and it makes salvation seem possible.

“I’m not delirious,” I tell her. “I meant what I said.”

Her face crumples, and for an instant I see the fear she’s been working so hard to hide. “Elli, go. Please. If they catch you, I won’t be able to protect you.”

“But what about you?” Aleksi might blame me, but what if he blames Mim, too, for giving me information? “Come with me now. We can—”

Mim shakes her head. “We’ll have more time to get you hidden if I check in with the matron first. But I’ll be with you before you start to miss me. I promise.” She tugs my hood up until it covers my half my face, then gives me a gentle nudge toward the world outside the temple. My slipper hovers over the dirt and grass and stone. I haven’t set foot on the bare ground since I was four years old. In all the years since then, I’ve been carried on a paarit or in a sedan chair. But if I don’t take these steps, I’ll die.

It makes it surprisingly easy to move forward.

My feet are silent as I tread the white stones that lead me away from the only home I remember, the fortress from which I was supposed to rule. I should be weeping or falling to my knees in despair, but like the magic, I can’t find those feelings inside me. I am sad, though. Desperately so.

I let everyone down. I failed my people. I failed my Valtia. And when they find the child Saadella, who will love her and watch over her? I’ve failed her, too.

Maybe I deserve to be cast out. Perhaps I even deserve to be killed. I reach the edge of the grounds and look back at the domed silhouette of the Temple on the Rock towering above me, majestic and mighty, pale-green copper and snowy marble ice. Am I being selfish? Should I go back and offer myself up?

Or would that doom a little Saadella to an early death after spending her youth serving the will of the priests?