Chapter Fifty-Seven

Quinlan’s new power terrified Asterin. Even a thousand magical wards couldn’t have barred them from the palace of Axaria.

The four of them—five, if you counted Eoin—emerged on the dais of Throne Hall, the stone circle of the Council of Immortals staring down at them from the ceiling. Taeron had chosen to stay behind in Eradoris with the twins.

Eadric collapsed onto the steps leading to the throne, the pallor of his face sickly. Rose sat down beside him and began rubbing his back. “No more shadow jumping,” the captain mumbled.

Just beyond the throne stretched the floor-to-ceiling windows bordering an entire side of the hall. Outside, the sun was sinking toward the horizon, streaks of vermilion bleeding across the steadily darkening sky like smears of wet paint.

She glanced at Quinlan. The dwindling rays seeped through the glass, setting his face softly aglow. He stared at the sunset like he was seeing it for the first time. His eyes glimmered with firelight. His parted lips curled up at the edges—in reverence, in wonder.

Asterin stifled a shudder. “Are you sure Eoin isn’t controlling you in any way?” she whispered, giving his hand a squeeze.

Quinlan never took his eyes off the sky. “He’s not, but . . . but I can feel what he feels. And he feels . . .” He shook his head ruefully. “There’s no word for it in the mortal tongue. It’s indefinable. Ineffable.”

Eadric broke the silence that followed. “We should find Elyssa.”

Asterin’s pulse picked up. How badly she wanted to forget about her mother and what she’d allegedly done.

She’s taken full control of the city and arrested all of your Elite guards. And after that, she executed one of them.

His name was Silas.

Priscilla’s betrayal had nearly destroyed her. Everything Asterin had thought that woman to be had ended up a lie. Half a lifetime’s worth of lies. And worse still, Asterin had loved her. She really had. That was what you were supposed to do with mothers, wasn’t it?

But at least Priscilla wasn’t truly her mother, not by blood.

Elyssa was.

At long last, Quinlan tore himself away from the window and marched toward the doors, tugging Asterin along by the hand. “Let’s go,” he said.

It sounded like a command to himself more than anyone else.

As soon as they stepped into the corridor, Asterin almost crashed headfirst into a guard. Bright blue eyes blinked at her in surprise. “Ah, Your Royal Majesty! My apologies, I could have sworn—er, never mind. Hello, again.”

“Carlsby!” Asterin greeted. Again? “Just the man I was looking for. Where is my mother?”

The young man chuckled nervously. “Same place that you left her, Your Majesty.”

Asterin stared at him in perplexity and searched her memory for the last time she had seen Elyssa—right before she had left for Eradore. “You mean . . . the palace entrance?”

“Yes!” Carlsby exclaimed, his relief palpable. “You had me worried there for a moment, Your Majesty. With all due respect, of course. I hope I didn’t overstep. Again.”

Again with the again. “Are you quite well, Carlsby?” Asterin asked gently. “My mother isn’t overworking you, is she?”

Carlsby laughed, a little shrilly. “Of course not! Anyway, I’ll make sure to hurry down, too, since everyone is already leaving.” With that, the soldier snapped into a bow and fled down the grand staircase.

“Since everyone is already leaving?” Rose echoed.

“No clue,” Asterin muttered, the anxiety in her stomach rearing into full-blown panic. “We’d better hurry.”

They broke into a run. As they flew down the stairs, Asterin craned her neck over the banister. Her eyes narrowed on the concourse floor far below, bustling with an unusual amount of guard activity. From what she could see, all of the soldiers were in various stages of donning armor.

Asterin skidded to a halt on the main floor. Rows and rows of soldiers were lined up and heading out of the main entrance. The guards that had managed to throw together an entire ensemble were hastening up the stairs to join them.

Some held ceremonial spears, some carried shields, and the rest bore the Axarian flag in one form or another—flags, banners, and standards of a snarling silver wolf against a field of crimson and black, two swords crossed behind it in an X.

“What in hell is going on?” Asterin growled. She stormed toward the landing above the concourse level and cornered a guard she didn’t recognize. “You!” He was struggling to button his jacket while simultaneously juggling his shield. “Please explain the meaning of this.”

“Oh, good!” the guard exclaimed. “Hold this for me for a minute, will you?” He passed the shield to her and finished buttoning his jacket.

Eadric swiped the shield from Asterin and flung it down the stairs, where its clang, clang, clang against the stone steps was lost beneath the cacophony of shouting and scraping metal and the heavy thud of boots.

The guard’s cheeks colored cherry red with anger. “What in—” He cut himself off and actually took a moment to look at their faces—first at Eadric, and then Asterin. “I-Immortals.” He bowed low enough for his nose to brush Asterin’s shoes. “Your Majesty and C-Captain Covington, sir!”

“Apologize—” Eadric seethed.

Asterin put a hand on his arm. There wasn’t time. She turned to the guard. “Tell us what’s happening.”

The guard frowned. “Pardon? Tell you . . . but—”

“Tell me as if I have no idea what is going on,” Asterin interrupted. “As if I am someone else.”

“It’s part of an evaluation,” Eadric added helpfully.

“Ah, yes, of course,” replied the guard, his chest puffing. “Well, after you—er, rather, the Queen of Axaria returned a few hours ago, she called a citywide audience. From what I was told, she has some huge proclamation to make.”

The world slowed.

“Where?” Asterin breathed.

“The Pavilion. Entertainment district.”

“I see.” Asterin gave the guard a placid smile. “Thank you for your time.”

The guard saluted and dashed down the stairs into the sea of soldiers to retrieve his shield. As he was bending down, someone accidentally kneed him in the windpipe.

“Asterin?” Eadric prompted when she failed to speak. Rose and Quinlan joined them. They, too, were stunned into silence. “What in hell was that about?”

She closed her eyes and tipped her face to the ceiling. “I have no idea.”

And then she summoned every ounce of strength within her and steeled herself for everything to come. Fury ignited in her chest, spreading faster than wildfire. “All right. Quinlan, get us to the Pavilion. Now.”

Quinlan nodded firmly and held out his hands for another shadow jump. To Asterin’s gratitude, Eadric didn’t even complain.

Whoever the son of a bitch wearing her face was, prancing about her city and masquerading as the Queen of Axaria . . .

She was going to make them pay.