The Grand Throne Room, wherein sat the illustrious Azure Throne, had three entrances: a wide set of double doors opposite the throne and set apart from it by an intimidating length of sanguine carpet, and two entrances on either side of the throne, leading to separate wings of the palace. The configuration very much resembled that of an old Earth church, with the Azure Throne sitting above all on its raised dais in the sanctuary, its supplicants before it and its sycophants on either side.
Clea had always secretly hated the room and its layout, because it was designed to emphasize the divide between ruler and ruled, not connect them, as it should. She had always preferred to do as much of her day-to-day business as she could in the smaller throne room when she had ruled here, only sitting upon the Azure Throne for state functions or other necessary shows of power. Of which there had been, unfortunately, more than Clea would have liked.
If only the people would accept someone brave and level-headed like Rahl… well, maybe more like Synth… for their leader. But they had come to associate the Flames of Regency with rulership, when in fact, Clea had come to believe, they were nothing more than an indicator of which Faltine was currently ascendant. Only someone with Faltine blood could wear the Flames, and outside of the Faltine dimension, that meant only her, Umar, and Dormammu. Two of which were awful choices and one of which would rather be doing anything else.
If the rebellion was successful and she reclaimed the throne from Umar, she had to find a way to convince the people of the Dark Dimension that someone who did not bear the Flames could also be fit to rule. But that, she supposed, was a war for another day. She had to win today’s battle first.
She and Holly hid at the left side entrance to the throne room. They could see the Azure Throne, and Umar perched atop it, the Flames of Regency taller and brighter than Clea had ever seen them. Umar herself was limned by a golden light coming from the other side of the dais, where Clea assumed Ardina must be. They could see the projections from Umar’s mystical gems currently showing Clea’s rebels being decimated. And they could see Umar’s dimensional window, and the green-haired, red-horned woman who moved about within it.
“She teamed up with the psychopathic Christmas elf?” Holly whispered, affronted. “That’s just rude. And that construct… is that another…?”
But Clea wasn’t really listening. She had overheard the Dreamqueen telling Umar that her magical signature had appeared in the palace, and when the demoness called up the overhead map in her gazing pool to show her mother where, Clea decided to add a little more chaos into the mix.
“As my magic’s trace shines with purple light,
“Images of Ikonn, now confound their sight!”
As she spoke, what should have been only a handful of dots on the Dreamqueen’s map suddenly became three times that many, some of which appeared well within the confines of the Grand Throne Room.
Umar howled in rage, jumping up from the throne and whipping her head this way and that, her dark hair snapping behind her as she scanned the room for any sign of her daughter. She seemed to relax slightly when Clea did not immediately appear out of nowhere and attack.
“Invisibility, perhaps?” the Dreamqueen suggested, her expression betraying some confusion. Which was only natural; Clea’s spell couldn’t reach through the dimensional window to affect the gazing pool, so where Umar saw dozens of potential Cleas, the Dreamqueen still only saw the handful of signatures left by the poppets. And by Clea herself, of course.
“Impossible!” Umar hissed in reply. “The entire palace is spelled against such subterfuges.”
Elaborate spells against magical cloaking that could be foiled, as it turned out, by using simple peasant cloaks. Probably because Umar would never have seen those she considered so far beneath her as anything resembling true threats, so would never have thought to guard against them and their simple, mundane tactics. Clea would have to remember that.
Just then, the other two members of her team made contact.
Clea, are you there? Margali’s thought came through sharp and loud. Clea winced at the volume.
We are, Clea responded, her mental voice pointedly softer. Are you and Elizabeth in place and ready?
We are. It was Elizabeth who replied this time, and Clea didn’t have to look to feel some heretofore unrealized tension leaving Holly’s body beside her.
Liz, you should know– Holly began, but she never got to finish.
Well, then, Margali interrupted, let’s end this.
It was the last thing Clea and Holly heard before the fireworks started.