Lady Evara wasn’t used to being called a hero. In fact, the first time it happened, she overheard a whisper in the palace court. “I heard she knew from the beginning—that’s why she sent her trainer to the market to buy him.”
She opened her mouth to correct the rumor. Of course, I hadn’t known, she was prepared to say. I was as shocked as anyone.
But then the whisperer continued. “She’s the true hero behind it all. If she hadn’t had the vision to instruct her rider to purchase that kehok . . . well, imagine where we’d be. Slaves to the Ranirans!”
Pretending she hadn’t overheard, she’d glided toward the speakers, introduced herself, and let them fawn over her as they introduced her to their social circle. When they asked her direct questions, she demurred, which they took for humility.
From them, she gleaned that Lord Petalo had taken a few liberties with his retelling of what had happened. Instead of leaving her out of the tale, or revealing the sordid mess with her inheritance, he’d painted her as some kind of wise heroine.
Which her parents would have thought was hilarious.
Frankly, she thought it was hilarious. Also, bewildering.
Why would mustache man enhance her reputation? If she was a heroine, then he had no leverage over her—who cared about her past when she’d helped save the empire? But after she talked with a few more fawning nobles, she realized that Lord Petalo had also inserted himself into the tale, as the brave double-agent who alerted the wise Lady Evara to the murder attempts. She let his lie slide. After all, in a way, he had helped.
And he had been the one to make sure the entire court knew the truth, which had softened them up for the official verification from the augurs. With the support of both the augurs and the court, Prince Dar had sailed through his coronation.
It also helped that the prince, Trainer Verlas, and the rider Raia had stopped an invasion. Just the three of them, with an army of monsters, against one of the largest invasion forces Becar had ever seen—the size of the invasion force tripled every time the story was retold, Lady Evara noticed. The exact numbers were unknown. But the story caught the imagination, and it spread far and wide. Lady Evara fanned its flames as often as she could.
Of course, she wasn’t foolish enough to believe all the praise being heaped on her. Her soul had yet to be read by an augur, at least not since the last time she’d tried (and failed) to obtain her inheritance—what was the point? Her soul was still very much whatever it was. She didn’t think it was likely to have changed. She’d never even returned the gold pouch she’d lifted from Lord Petalo. She tried not to let her nerves show, though, when she was at last summoned to the aviary to speak with Emperor Dar.
If he knew the truth, he could still have her cast out of the palace as unworthy, no matter what lovely rumors were circulating.
The guards recognized her at the doorway and escorted her inside. She heard the soothing waterfalls and the pleasant chirp of birds and did not feel calm. What if he objected to the rumors? What if he thought she was trying to claim glory for herself by not refuting them? I wasn’t. Well, only as a side benefit.
She picked her way through the winding path, between the lush flowers and the tranquil corners, until she reached the center mosaic. Emperor Dar was seated on a throne of white marble. The black lion was with him, as he always seemed to be, accompanied by Raia. The three were inseparable these days, which Lady Evara approved of. The emperor’s enemies would think twice if he was perpetually protected by a vicious monster.
With a flourish, Lady Evara bowed. “Your Excellence, how may I serve you?”
“You are already serving your empire, Lady Evara,” Emperor Dar said.
He did not seem displeased. In fact, he was smiling. Perhaps this wasn’t going to be a disaster? It would be lovely not to be forced to leave the Heart of Becar in disgrace and poverty. “Always,” Lady Evara said smoothly. “Your coronation was a joy and blessing to all.”
“Your efforts to ensure that have not gone unnoticed,” Emperor Dar said, and then he wrinkled his nose. To Raia he said, “Am I sounding appropriately pompous? I feel like I’m overdoing it.”
Raia laughed. “You’re doing great.”
Lady Evara noticed how relaxed they were and began to hope. If he was going to send her away, he would be more serious, wouldn’t he? “May I ask why you have summoned me, Your Excellence?”
“I’d like you to keep doing what you’re doing,” Emperor Dar said.
“Oh?” That sounded promising, though she wasn’t exactly sure what he was referring to. Keep doing what? she wondered. The threat to the kehok had been removed, and she’d neutralized Lord Petalo.
“My brother had friends among the court. . . .” The emperor laid his hand on the lion’s metal mane. “Friends who smoothed the way for him. They’d put in a good word for policies he wanted to be supported. And they’d watch the temperature of the court.”
“You want me to keep spying for you,” Lady Evara clarified.
“Precisely.”
Lady Evara felt like dancing a little victory lap, but she kept her expression smooth as if she were considering it. “My affairs in Peron have been calling to me. I was intending to return home. . . . My finances have suffered a blow since my time away.” She hoped that was a subtle enough hint. If not, she’d be more blunt.
“You will be compensated,” Emperor Dar said. Music to my ears, Lady Evara thought. “I need allies, Lady Evara. Every new emperor does. Will you be my ally in the court?”
“Yes, Your Excellence,” Lady Evara said with another bow. “I would be honored.”
“Splendid. Then let’s begin now. What have you learned?”
She dove into relating her conversation with Lord Petalo, excluding the unflattering bits, but including everything he’d said about Lady Nori.
That seemed to sadden him. “I suppose I never did see her true soul.”
She also told how Lord Petalo was altering the story to paint her as a heroine. “I am your loyal spy,” she told the emperor. “But I’m not a heroine. If you wish, I could correct the record. . . .”
She hoped he’d say no, and to her relief, he did. “It’s useful to have you admired by the court. Leave it be. My concern, though, is whether you will be vulnerable to blackmail again.”
Quickly, Lady Evara weighed her options. He already knew about the attempted blackmail, so there was zero point in trying to deny it. She should have suspected he’d ask. For all she knew, he’d already investigated and this was some kind of test. “It relates to my parents.”
Raia spoke up. “You already have my sympathy.”
She flashed the girl a grateful smile, and then she launched into the messy tale. The will, the failed readings, the humiliation. As she talked, the kehok watched her with his golden eyes, which oddly enough made her feel better.
Maybe she wasn’t worthy enough of her inheritance. But she had done some good here.
When she finished, she noticed a river hawk had settled on a branch above Prince Dar. It was the only bird anywhere in the vicinity of the lion.
“Thank you for trusting me with your secret,” Prince Dar said gravely.
It wasn’t as if she’d had much choice.
“Do I still have the position?” Her voice was stiff as she asked, but mercifully didn’t crack.
“Of course.”
Lady Evara inclined her head in gratitude. Inside she cheered.
“You should have an augur read you now,” Raia said. “Maybe this time it will have a different result.”
Prince Dar held up his hand. “You could. But consider: you have already proven yourself to me and to all of Becar. Perhaps it isn’t necessary.”
Lady Evara mulled over his words. He’s right, she thought. With a promise of a position at the palace, she didn’t need her inheritance. Given that, why submit to a reading? So she could secure her late parents’ approval? She didn’t need to prove to anyone that she was worthy of the kind of future she wanted.
I make my own destiny and determine my own worth.
And I am worth quite a lot.
Raia was silent as Lady Evara left the aviary. When the door closed, she said, “You didn’t want her to win her inheritance, did you? You wanted her to need you.”
“I meant what I said: I need allies,” Dar said. “I let my brother down once—his murderers almost succeeded. I will not leave the empire so vulnerable again.”
Rising, the lion pressed against her side. She placed a hand on his smooth metal mane. She could guess what her kehok wanted to say. “You didn’t let him down. And we’re your allies. You can count on us.”
“I am counting on that. Are you ready?”
When she nodded, he signaled the guard, who let augurs file into the aviary. There were six of them, four women and two men, in robes and wearing pendants. Raia guessed they were the new high council—she’d heard elections had been held across the temples. An unusual move, but then there had never been another time in history when all the high augurs needed to be replaced at the same time.
They halted, formed a semicircle, and bowed in unison.
They’ve been practicing, she thought, and buried a smile.
“Your update,” Emperor Dar commanded.
One of the augurs stepped forward and began reciting a litany of facts: the cost to rebuild the temple, the number of workers they’d already employed, the impact of the riots on various professions and how the augurs were assisting. . . . Raia stroked the kehok’s smooth mane while Dar listened to the augur drone on.
At last, she wound down, and Dar said, “I am delighted to hear the augurs are offering so much aid to the people of Becar.”
“The old high augurs strayed from the path,” the new head of the high augurs said. “We wish to restore the people’s faith in us.”
“Excellent,” Dar said, nodding. “Then you will be open to restructuring of the role of augurs in Becaran society.”
The high augur blinked. “The—”
“I have prepared the proclamation that my brother wanted. The one that he died for.” He smiled, and Raia could tell it was a fake smile. She was beginning to notice the nuances between his always well-controlled expressions. “I know you’re not your predecessors, but in the interest of the stability of the empire, I have already had multiple copies written. If I die unexpectedly, they will be distributed.”
The head augur managed to stutter, “P-p-proclamation?”
“My brother uncovered the truth that all people have the capacity to read auras. It is not limited to ‘the purest of the pure,’ which is how it was possible for corruption to sneak into your ranks. Now the truth will be known: anyone can be an augur. I imagine your temples will want to prepare themselves for an influx of volunteers. And an exodus of those who never wanted to be augurs in the first place.”
He said all of this calmly, as if he weren’t upending a basic tenet of what the augurs believed about themselves and their power. Raia kept her face expressionless—she had heard all of this as the one who had helped the kehok and the emperor communicate with each other over many, many sessions—but it was new to the augurs.
New and unwelcome.
“Only the purest should become augurs,” Prince Dar said. “This is very different from only the purest can become augurs.”
The augurs murmured to one another, and the second from the left, a man with a braided black beard and bald head, said, “This will undermine people’s faith in us!”
“There will be ramifications,” Prince Dar agreed. “You may, in fact, find people relying on themselves more, once they know we are all the same: equally human, with our own choices to make.”
“It will shake the core of how people see themselves, as well as us!” the bearded augur said. “Becarans are not prepared for this. You cannot issue this proclamation!”
The black lion began to growl. She felt the rumble vibrate through his mane.
The bearded man swallowed hard but pushed on. “I only mean that such an unsubstantiated claim could cause great harm, especially with no proof that it’s true. . . .”
The kehok bared his teeth, continuing to growl. Easy, Raia thought at him. The people might not be so forgiving if kehoks slaughtered a second set of high augurs.
“My brother was murdered to keep this secret,” Dar said blandly, as if sharing news of the weather. “I believe that in and of itself proves its validity.”
“With all due respect, Your Excellence,” the head augur said, bowing, “it merely proves that our predecessors considered it dangerous.”
Dangerous and true, the kehok’s voice echoed in Raia’s head. She was startled—she heard him only rarely. She repeated his words: “Dangerous and true.” She added, “I was chosen to be an augur. I’m proof that who we were doesn’t determine who we become.”
“You are but one person,” the head augur objected.
“Then study this,” Dar said. “I am giving you the chance to prepare for the questions, the confusion, and the changes this announcement will cause. You have two months.”
All the augurs began to babble, objecting.
Convince them, Raia told her kehok.
He paced toward them with measured steps. His paws were silent on the sandy path, the birds were silent in the presence of the kehok, and as soon as the augurs noticed he was moving, they fell silent too.
“Two months,” Dar repeated. “This is a gift that your temples do not deserve, after what befell my brother. What almost befell our nation. Do not make me regret it.”
Eyes on the kehok, the new head augur stepped forward and bowed. “Release your proclamation now.”
The other augurs behind her gasped.
“Secrecy is the enemy of trust,” she said. “Let all Becarans face this revelation together.”
The bearded augur objected. “But we don’t know if it’s true—”
“The people are afraid because they have seen the purest of the pure be corrupted. They do not know how they can continue to make the right choices if those who should have been incorruptible could not. At least this gives them an explanation: the old high augurs were not special. They were not better. All I ask, Your Excellence, is that you call it a theory, and together all Becarans will explore its truth.”
“Very well,” Dar said. “It will be done.”
The head augur bowed, and the others followed suit before retreating.
Raia waited for the door to shut before she sagged against the kehok. She’d held her breath for much of that conversation—just thinking of the ways in which this revelation could change Becar, most especially the lives of everyone like her who’d never wanted to be an augur but thought they’d had no choice. . . . It made her head feel as if it were whirling.
“Did that go the way you wished it to?” Dar asked the kehok.
The lion looked up at the river hawk perched above them.
Raia answered for him. “I believe it did.”
Raia and the kehok mostly kept to the background while Dar continued his day, meeting with various nobles and advisers. He heard updates on the rebuilding of the city, signed various documents, refused to sign a few others, and delegated tasks as necessary.
After a while, Raia and the kehok drifted away, wandering the paths of the aviary. She followed the sound of a man-made stream that trickled between the trees. A few statues decorated the paths.
The kehok remembered who he had been for most of the time now. Raia wasn’t sure if it was because they were in his old home or spending so much time with his brother, but walking through the aviary, she felt as though she was with a friend, not a beast she’d tamed. The spectators at the races would have been stunned to see them.
Beside her, the kehok stopped.
A river hawk was perched on top of one of the statues. It watched them for a moment, and then inclined its head before spreading its wings and disappearing into the tops of the trees.
Raia didn’t know what it meant, but she sensed peacefulness from the kehok. She hadn’t felt that from him before. Resting her hand on his back, she meandered with him back to Dar.
“One more left for today,” Dar said when they returned, “and I would like you here with me for this.” He looked into the kehok’s eyes. “You’ll tell me if I make a mistake, right?”
That sounded worrying. “Who is it?”
“The ambassador from Ranir.”
“I thought you’d imprisoned him.” As well as my parents, Raia thought.
His gaze shifted to her. “I did. But it’s time for him to deliver a message.”
Raia swallowed. “You don’t think destroying their army was message enough?”
Dar didn’t reply. Instead he straightened in his throne as the guards crossed the aviary, escorting a disheveled man in chains. He was unshaven, and he looked as if he hadn’t bathed in weeks. But his expression was peaceful—he looked, Raia thought, like a man prepared to face his own death.
She inched closer to the kehok and hoped that they wouldn’t be the cause of that death.
“Ambassador Usan,” Dar greeted him.
“I don’t think I still have the right to that title,” the man said, holding up his shackled wrists. “My king has most likely decided I failed in my duties.”
“That is his right to decide,” Dar said. “You can ask him when you see him.”
The man cocked his head, as if mildly interested. “You aren’t executing me? Curious. You know I murdered the woman you reportedly loved. Like you murdered mine.”
Dar looked taken aback by that—most wouldn’t have noticed, but Raia saw the tightening of his hands on the arms of his throne. She felt the kehok stiffen beside her.
“She was in the army that was supposed to invade. A captain in the third battalion.”
“She may have survived,” Dar said. “The extent of the losses aren’t known.”
“You unleashed an army of several hundred murderous beasts,” Usan said with a shrug. “After so much time listening to your nobles discuss betting on your sun-blasted races, I know bad odds when I hear them.”
“We are returning you to Ranir, for the good of Becar,” Dar said. “The invasion, as well as your actions here, were an act of aggression we cannot and will not ignore. You will carry treaties that your king will sign.”
“And if he does not?”
“Kehoks can travel across the desert. I do not think your king would like to find an army of them on his doorstep.” Dar adopted the same casual tone as the ambassador, but Raia could feel the underlying tension.
“To warn you, my king may take it as a sign of weakness that you allowed me to live.”
Raia burst out, “Are you asking to die?”
He shrugged again. “I’d prefer to die someplace where I’m not so thirsty all the time. I don’t know how you Becarans can stand it here. People aren’t meant to be surrounded by so much sand. So, if you’re offering me a chance to live long enough to leave this place, I’ll take it.”
“You will be provided with an escort, as well as a written list of demands for your king. And you will deliver a special message.” Dar nodded to the kehok.
Standing, the lion walked toward the ambassador.
For the first time, Usan looked frightened. Shrinking back, he began to tremble. Raia didn’t know what the kehok was doing, but she didn’t sense rage. Perhaps this was something Dar and the kehok had worked out between them. Often, Dar talked with his brother, and Raia gave them space, moving herself out of earshot but staying close enough to control the kehok, if necessary. They’d managed to find their own ways to communicate.
She was musing over this when the lion swiped his claws diagonally across Usan’s body. Usan cried out as the metal tips gouged his skin. Blood sprang from the long gash, and Usan fell hard onto his knees.
To the guards, Dar said, “Make sure it scars. Then send him home.” To Usan he said, “If you return, the claws will cut through your heart. And if your kingdom moves against us again, it will be your king’s heart.”
The bleeding man was carried out of the aviary.
Raia and the kehok met the emperor in the aviary the next day, and the next. The emperor wanted his brother present, and it was unsafe for the kehok to be without her—she couldn’t guarantee he would hold on to his memories, and his guards wouldn’t allow the risk.
Sometimes the meetings were fascinating, sometimes boring. None were as monumental as either the meeting with the new high augurs or with the former ambassador from Ranir . . . at least until the day when no one walked through the aviary doors for the next meeting.
“Isn’t there anyone coming?” Raia asked.
“This time is reserved for you,” Dar said. He drew a roll of parchment out of a pocket in his tunic. “These were made official just this morning.”
She took it, unsure what it could be. It was tied with a gold ribbon, as if it were a new law or a proclamation. Feeling Dar watching her, she untied it—there were two papers. She flattened them on her lap.
As she read the first one, she felt her throat clog. It was a release statement from her parents, obtained from them in prison, admitting they had no claim over her, that she owed them nothing, and that all debt and relations between them were canceled.
A hot tear landed on the parchment.
It was what she wanted, but it still tore her up to read. Her parents had disowned her in a statement that was fully legal. They had no claim to her, nor she to them. I’m free. She didn’t know why that didn’t make her happier.
The black lion nudged her hand, and she stroked his metallic muzzle. He laid his head on her lap, comforting her.
“Read the second,” Dar urged.
She flipped to the second paper and read. This one was an adoption certificate. Even though she was a full legal adult, this paper claimed her as part of the family Verlas. Daughter of Trainer Tamra Verlas, sister to augur-in-training Shalla Verlas. If she chose to accept. There were no financial ties within it—no obligations from either the family to her, or her to the family.
But they were legally bound, if she wished to be.
Now she was crying in earnest.
“I can’t tell if you’re happy or not,” Dar said.
“I can’t either,” she admitted.
He gestured to the papers. “Do you want this?”
“Yes! Oh, yes!” She clutched both to her chest. Free from the family who never loved her. And tied to a family who did. Yes, she wanted this very much. She’d never imagined it was possible to change something that felt as immutable as the family she was born into. But I did. I changed my life, my future, my destiny.
The kehok leaned against her, and she heard the words in her head: You changed mine.
She wrapped her arms around his neck, as far as they would reach, and wept into his mane.