5

Long May We Reign

Less than an hour later, exhaustion dragging at my bones, I stand in the city of Oaesys, hiding outside one of the smaller gates in the outer palace walls, waiting. I’ve tucked myself into the protected storefront across the street, the hood of my black cloak drawn far down over my face.

I’ve been careful getting here—more so than usual, given the events of the night.

The tiny hairs across the back of my neck raise. I’m being watched. This time I know it.

Breath held tight, I slip my dagger out and whirl around.

Nothing. Shadows spill from the doorway behind me like ink. I frown, staring harder, trying to find the outline of whoever is watching me. A flash of eyes. Anything I could throw my knife at.

The shadows lengthen. Become darker. Solid. Like I could reach out and touch them.

Or like they could reach out and touch me.

My heart thuds heavily against my rib cage.

A whistle pierces the quiet, and I shrink back against the dew-damp stone of the building. The lamplighter doesn’t see me as he passes by, going about his business, the flickering flame he carries throwing the shadows around me into disarray.

As soon as he disappears, so does the strange sense of being watched. Of not being alone. The whiplash of sensations frays my already frazzled nerves. I need to get inside the palace.

Where the hells is Tabra?

She’s supposed to meet me here. Dawn is breaking. The purpling haze of it skates over the tops of the buildings to the south, warning me that we don’t have long. If she’s not careful, the servants will be awake. Someone might see us.

“Moons and magic,” a hushed voice whispers from the gate.

Finally.

“Patience and sand,” I whisper back. Our passwords.

After one more check of the street, I hurry across and through the small door in the now-empty guards’ house. My sister will have ordered them away.

I pull up at the sight of her, staring at an exact replica of myself, and she stares back. Even though I’ve been scrubbed and primped and perfumed until I’m as polished as a scepter, she’s still more beautiful, at least to me.

On a gusty breath of joy, we hug. Mother goddess, it’s been too long. I hug Tabra tight. As much as my world is about to change, hers is even more. For once, I don’t envy my sister, who will spend the rest of her life under the constant scrutiny of a royal court.

“Grandmother is dead,” she whispers into my hair, and her body trembles against mine.

“I know.”

“I’m going to be queen.” Her voice breaks.

I pull back and tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear, taking her in.

Amber eyes made more dramatic with copper sand dust, like the shimmering-masked yoewl cats that roam the desert. Shining hair tumbling in artful curls around her shoulders. Her petite curves enhanced by a figure-hugging cinnamon-colored tunic, sleeveless and low-cut, fitted over a gossamer-light skirt rather than breeches. Beyond the dark circles under her eyes, she’s perfect.

“You’ll be amazing,” I say.

Lips like mine tip in amusement but mostly doubt. “I’ve never done anything without her.”

I know that, too. I’ve worried about that since I was old enough to understand our fates.

Tabra may look like the pampered palace version of me, but her soul is purer, sweeter. Given the conniving, backstabbing, power-mongering life at court, I have no idea how she’s remained so kind. If becoming queen steals that from her, either through exhaustion or malice, I don’t know what I’ll do.

Maybe I’ll go on some sort of “off with their heads” rant when I’m standing in for her. They wouldn’t dare mess with the queen after that.

“How hard could ruling a dominion be, anyway?”

Tabra’s eyes go wide. “Meren,” she hisses, glancing around like someone might have overheard.

“I’m pretty sure we can do it better.” I’m pretty sure anyone could have done it better than our grandmother.

“Shhh…” She flaps a hand at me. “You can’t say things like that.”

I shrug. The goddesses have yet to smite me.

She glances behind me. “Where’s Omma?”

Shock. She’s definitely in shock, otherwise she wouldn’t have asked.

Teasing isn’t working, so I try to gentle my answer. “You know she can never show her face here again.”

What would people do if a woman who looked like their dead queen was seen walking around? They’d crowd the temple in a frenzy, praying to the goddesses about the end of days, that’s what.

“Oh.” Tabra bites her lip. “Right. Silly of me to ask.”

I squeeze her hand, her skin cold against mine. “Let’s get inside. Then we can talk.”

She nods, and we both draw our hoods up together, but two steps toward the palace, she pauses. “Wait.” Then hurries back to the guards’ hut and picks up a basket heavily laden with foods from the palace—breads, fresh root vegetables, even a leg of lamb.

Smiling softly, because she does this every time, I wait, watching her from the guard house as she hurries to the corner and places the food out of sight on the other side, where those who need it most might find it.

“I’m surprised the palace isn’t running out of baskets yet,” I tease when she returns to me.

Tabra smiles. “Grandmother can’t…” She pauses and self-corrects. “Couldn’t understand why the kitchens kept losing them. I started sending Achlys out with other containers—water jugs and things that might be equally useful—so she wouldn’t notice as much.”

We giggle. Then we both sober. We need to be in a safer space before we talk more.

No one sees or stops us as we make our way through lesser-used passageways to the long corridor where the royal suites are located. Her room is empty, of course. And as soon as the door closes, we hug again.

We always do, because we never know how long we’ll be together. This time is different, though. This time, she’s in charge, and we’re on our own.

Are we ready? I’m already shaking my head at the question. I’m not ready. And neither is Tabra. Her Imperium powers haven’t shown up yet. She can’t protect herself, and my powers aren’t strong enough to protect myself, let alone us both.

“Have you offered words to the goddesses yet?”

Tabra shifts on her feet. The six goddesses and their mother goddess hide in the Allusian heavens with their consorts. They stopped talking to their people long ago. My sister, like my grandmother who raised her, doesn’t pray—not unless it’s part of a public ceremony. Neither does Omma.

I do.

“I thought you could…”

I nod. I’ll do it for us both. “I know the viziers are already busy planning the coronation and Grandmother’s funeral.”

She sighs and drops to the bed. “The palace is already starting to fill with authoritates and politicos from all over Aryd and from the other dominions. Everyone wants to meet with the new queen. I’m supposed to give a speech tomorrow—” She glances at the watery light creeping across the floor. “This morning, actually, and tonight is the traditional pre-coronation reception.”

That was fast. Then again, the dominion needs a ruler.

“Which do you want me to do?”

She wrinkles her nose. “Both?” she asks hopefully.

“Cute. But no.”

She tosses a pillow at me, but at least I got her to smile. Meanwhile, I’m thinking about the two events. Speeches are given from a protected balcony that looks out into the city. No one can get near her there. “The reception is probably the more dangerous of the two.”

Tabra hesitates.

I know that expression. “What?”

“I’m opening the palace to all the people for the coronation.”

My throat pinches closed, though I probably should have expected it. I want to argue, to tell her she’s risking lives. The uprisings may not have reached the capital yet, but many of Aryd’s citizens—the downtrodden and struggling—are angry with the royals. I’ve seen their faces in Enora, witnessed their fight for survival. I’m angry for them.

“Then I’m standing in for the coronation.”

She shakes her head. “The real queen should be the one crowned, and I want my people to see that. See me.”

Tabra’s naïveté when it comes to human nature, while sweet, is dangerous. Still, I can’t say I’m all that sad to miss being the one front and center for that circus. “Fine. But I want Achlys to have me ready to take your place.”

Tabra frowns, almost confused. “My people won’t hurt me.”

I sigh. Our grandmother’s rule hasn’t been easy on many in this dominion. Tabra can change that, and I can help her. Just not the way she’s imagining. I reach over and take her hand. “Not after they get to know you, they won’t. But right now, all they know is—”

A knock sounds at the door, and we both go still, staring at each other wide-eyed. No one can see us together. Ever.

“A letter for you, domina,” a male voice calls out. “Arrived just now.”

“Just a moment!” Tabra responds.

In as silent a hurry as I can move, I grab my belongings and run for the hidden panel in the wall by her bed. At a push of my palm, the latch unhinges, and the door swings open. Tabra pushes it closed behind me, and I’m suddenly standing in pitch blackness.

I drop my forehead to the door, eyes squeezed shut. Tabra hasn’t been queen-presumptive for more than a few hours, and I’ve already messed up.