The Queen's Mage

Chapter 164: Holding Things Together

Mara had spent the first month after Lady Serali’s appointment waiting for someone to tell her the arrangement was temporary.

Not because anyone had suggested replacing her.

Quite the opposite.

Serali trusted Mara.

That, Mara had learned, was precisely the problem.

There had been tentative suggestions, at first, that the Royal Mage ought to have a proper household. Another attendant for her wardrobe. Someone to manage correspondence. Perhaps two women to divide the morning and evening duties.

Serali had refused every one.

Politely, usually.

Unequivocally, always.

The fitting with Mistress Callene had finally made the reason impossible to miss. One innocent question about how many attendants would be helping Serali dress had been enough to send every line of her body rigid.

Just Mara.

She had said it too quickly.

Not imperiously.

Frightened.

Serali did not want a room full of unfamiliar hands fastening her clothes, arranging her hair, moving around her chambers. She did not want a procession of palace servants learning her routines and touching her things.

She wanted Mara.

Mara knew how close she could stand. She knew when to ask before touching. She knew which silences meant leave me alone and which meant please don’t go.

Most importantly, Serali felt safe with her.

So the suggestions had stopped.

The Queen’s household employed five senior attendants.

One oversaw Her Majesty’s wardrobe.

One managed audiences and correspondence.

One supervised the royal apartments and the maids assigned to them.

One coordinated meals, kitchens, and travel.

Another kept the Queen’s schedule from collapsing under the weight of everyone who wished to speak with her.

And that was only the Queen.

Lady Verya had two personal attendants, a secretary, and enough legal aides to populate a small courtroom.

Lady Marielle had two attendants of her own, several engineers and assistants attached to her office, and at least one clerk whose principal responsibility appeared to be translating whatever Marielle had calculated at three in the morning into something other people could understand.

Serali had...

Mara.

Not literally, of course.

The Royal Mage had guards. Palace clerks could be borrowed when necessary. Laundresses washed her clothes. Maids cleaned her chambers. The kitchens fed her. Mistress Callene and her seamstresses handled the increasingly complicated matter of her wardrobe.

But someone had to coordinate all of them.

Increasingly, that someone was Mara.

Somewhere in the past months, without ceremony or official appointment, Mara had become not merely Serali’s attendant but the steward of the Royal Mage’s entire household.

She kept the household accounts and reviewed bills. She maintained inventories and ordered everything from writing paper to bath salts. She managed Serali’s schedule, sorted correspondence, tracked alterations, arranged cleaning around council meetings and magical experiments, and learned which palace office to bother when something failed to arrive when promised.

She knew which invitations required Serali’s attention and which could be declined without ever reaching her desk.

She knew which stacks of books the maids could dust around and which were not to be moved under any circumstances.

She knew that three different departments could all insist the same expense belonged to someone else’s budget, and that asking Lady Verya which regulation governed it tended to resolve the question with remarkable speed.

Most importantly, half the palace seemed to have learned that if they needed something from the Royal Mage, the sensible first step was to find Mara.

Mara had stopped expecting someone to arrive and explain that this was administratively absurd.

No one ever did.

So she had learned.

There were still gaps in Mara’s education.

Ensuring Serali remembered meals existed, for example, remained an increasingly sophisticated campaign of timing, persuasion, and strategically placed food.

At first, Mara had assumed Serali simply became distracted.

Now she suspected something else.

Serali had learned not to notice hunger.

She could work through breakfast. Miss lunch. Reach late afternoon with nothing but tea in her stomach and insist, with complete sincerity, that she was fine.

Then Mara would put food in front of her.

And Serali would eat like she was starving.

Not delicately. Not absentmindedly. With the focused hunger of someone whose body had been asking for food for hours while the rest of her had simply stopped listening.

Mara had begun keeping track.

Meals. Portions. The measurements Mistress Callene took at fittings. The gradual changes that told Mara whether all those strategically placed honey rolls and second helpings were accomplishing anything.

They were.

Slowly.

Serali still had weight to gain.

Mara intended to see that she gained it.

Preferably without Serali ever realizing that half the Royal Mage’s household administration had quietly become a conspiracy to feed her.

The strategy remained under revision.

She balanced a stack of folded notes against her hip as she crossed the palace.

Today’s tasks.

Lady Verya’s revised oath language.

Lady Marielle’s latest measurements for the lantern spacing.

Mistress Callene’s request for confirmation on sleeve length.

A reminder for the laundresses that Serali’s First Sun cloak would require separate storage after the festival.

A note to the chambermaids asking them not to enter Serali’s rooms before breakfast tomorrow.

If the Royal Mage managed to sleep the night before First Sun, Mara intended to defend that sleep with whatever authority she could reasonably invent.

Serali was already awake.

Naturally.

She sat at the little table by the window surrounded by papers.

Verya’s legal drafts occupied one pile.

Marielle’s diagrams another.

The third appeared to be entirely devoted to increasingly complicated sketches of birds.

Mara decided not to ask.

She quietly lifted the legal drafts.

Serali looked up immediately. ”I was reading that.”

”You still may.”

Mara replaced the papers with breakfast.

Serali looked betrayed. ”I was using that space.”

”You are now using it for bread.”

”I could do both.”

”You attempted to yesterday.”

”I remember.”

”You drank cold tea.”

Serali sighed. ”I preferred life when everyone feared me.”

”They still do.”

”They’re hiding it remarkably well.”

Mara smiled. ”I’ll inform the Queen.”

Serali accepted defeat with reasonable grace.

Mostly because the honey happened to be excellent.

When breakfast had disappeared to Mara’s satisfaction, she opened her notebook.

”Lady Marielle until third bell.”

Serali nodded.

”Lady Verya immediately afterward.”

Another nod.

”Mistress Callene before luncheon.”

”I only saw her yesterday.”

”You are seeing her again.”

Serali closed her eyes. ”I knew saying yes to one new dress was a mistake.”

”You said yes to a political necessity.”

”I remember it being phrased differently.”

”It was.”

Mara smiled pleasantly. ”I preferred my version.”

A knock sounded.

Pell stood outside. ”Royal Mage.”

He inclined his head. ”We’re ready.”

Orran waited a respectful distance farther down the corridor.

Neither stepped into the room.

Neither hurried her.

Serali gathered her papers.

As she rose, Mara saw it. Only for an instant.

Serali’s fingertips brushed lightly against her own wrist.

Not rubbing.

Checking. Checking for a tether, a chain.

The movement disappeared almost before it existed.

Mara looked down at her notebook.

Some kindnesses consisted entirely of pretending not to notice.

Her next errand took her to Lady Verya.

The solicitor’s office looked as though someone had attempted to build a fortress out of law books.

Three scribes worked in silence.

Letters covered every available surface.

Lady Verya herself stood at the central table, already writing across two documents simultaneously.

She accepted Serali’s notes without looking up. ”Thank you.”

”My lady.”

Mara hesitated.

There was a fresh bandage wrapped around Verya’s left hand.

”...Has something happened?”

Verya glanced down. ”A papercut.”

Mara blinked. ”...That seems rather dramatic.”

”It became infected.”

”...How?”

”I ignored it.”

”For how long?”

Verya actually considered the question. ”Long enough.”

This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author’s work.

The office door opened.

Lia entered carrying fresh bandages and three small bottles. ”There you are.”

Verya sighed. ”I had hoped you were occupied elsewhere.”

”I was.”

Lia set the bottles on the desk. ”Now I’m occupied here.”

She gently took Verya’s hand.

”You’ve also been getting headaches.”

”I’ve been reading.”

”You’ve been forgetting to eat.”

”I’ve been prioritising.”

”You’ve been impossible.”

Lia smiled as she unwound the old bandage.

”I’ve prepared another batch of willow-bark tonic.”

”For whom?” Mara asked.

Lia looked around the office.

Then smiled.

”Yes.”

Even Verya laughed.

Quietly.

Mara continued through the palace.

She passed an open committee room.

Lord Harrek stood over a city map while Lord Yvander sorted merchant ledgers into increasingly alarming piles.

”This printer bought paper here.”

Yvander circled a warehouse.

”The money came through this account.”

Harrek nodded. ”Good.”

Neither man noticed Mara.

She quietly left the requested documents with a secretary and continued.

Further along, Prince Hagen had somehow acquired four nobles and what appeared to be an argument.

”...No,” he was saying pleasantly.

”Questioning a decision is not the same thing as questioning the Queen.”

One noble frowned. ”It often becomes that.”

”It certainly can.” Hagen smiled. ”My suggestion is that we avoid helping it along.”

He caught sight of Mara. ”How is our Royal Mage?”

”Fed.”

His shoulders relaxed almost imperceptibly. ”Excellent.”

Then he was smiling at the nobles again as though he’d never paused.

Captain Daravan was exactly where Mara expected.

The palace square.

Workers raised lantern poles.

Children rehearsed songs.

Guards quietly occupied nearly every roof surrounding the square.

Daravan wasn’t watching the decorations.

He was watching the roofs.

He noticed Mara before she reached him.

”Has she eaten?”

”Yes.”

”Slept?”

”Enough.”

He nodded once. ”Good.”

His eyes never left the rooftops.

Mistress Callene’s workroom had become controlled chaos.

Seamstresses occupied every available chair.

Someone embroidered while walking.

Someone else appeared to be sewing three sleeves simultaneously.

Callene herself stood in the middle of the room holding two sketches beside Serali’s measurements.

Without looking up she asked, ”Did she approve the collar?”

”She said she trusted you.”

Callene looked horrified. ”...That isn’t helpful.”

”It was meant kindly.”

”I know.”

She sighed. ”It would have been much easier if she’d had an opinion.”

By evening the palace had acquired a peculiar rhythm.

Everyone yawned.

No one stopped working.

Servants.

Guards.

Scribes.

Even one of the temple singers rehearsing in the gardens.

Mara stopped halfway down a corridor as the thought finally occurred to her.

The entire palace was exhausting itself...

...preparing for a festival whose oldest tradition required everyone to remain awake until dawn.

She wondered, briefly, whether Avalusia’s founders had simply held an unreasonable grudge against sleep.

That night Serali fell asleep before Mara finished extinguishing the lamps.

Mara quietly gathered the papers scattered across the bed.

One legal draft.

Two engineering sketches.

A list of rehearsal timings.

She placed them neatly on the writing desk for morning.

Then checked tomorrow’s schedule.

Breakfast.

Final fitting.

Rehearsal.

Council.

First Sun.

She closed the notebook.

Across the palace, lights still burned.

The council chamber.

Lady Verya’s office.

Mistress Callene’s workshop.

Lady Marielle’s drafting room.

Captain Daravan’s office.

Even Her Majesty’s solar.

No one, it seemed, intended to arrive at First Sun particularly well-rested.

Which was unfortunate.

Because tomorrow night...

...they would all be expected to stay awake together until sunrise.

Mara smiled to herself as she drew the blankets a little higher over Serali’s shoulder.

Tomorrow, everyone else could save the kingdom.

Tonight, she would settle for making sure the Royal Mage slept long enough to help them do it.

Chapter 165: Four Hours

By the time the palace clocks struck eight, Serali had stopped looking at them.

It did not prevent time from passing.

First Sun officially began in one hour. The lanterns would be lit. The palace gates would open. The square would fill.

Three hours after that...

...she would stand before the kingdom.

Someone knocked.

Not politely.

Urgently.

Mara opened the door.

Mistress Callene entered like a commander arriving at the front.

She was already dressed for First Sun.

Her own gown was a deep spring green trimmed with white at the sleeves, practical enough to work in, elegant enough that she would not disgrace herself if dragged directly into the celebrations afterward.

Two assistants followed behind carrying an enormous garment bag with the solemn concentration usually reserved for relics.

Callene looked directly at Serali. ”Good.”

Serali frowned. ”Good?”

”You’re still approximately the same size.”

”I had not planned any dramatic changes today.”

”Excellent.” Callene clapped once. ”Let’s not begin now.”

The assistants immediately set to work.

The gown emerged first.

Even folded, it seemed to gather twilight around itself.

The velvet shifted from deep midnight blue at the shoulders into indigo and finally a rich violet at the hem, the colours flowing into one another so gradually that Serali couldn’t tell where one ended and the next began.

Fine gold embroidery climbed across the skirt in sweeping constellations, trailing upward across one shoulder like a river of stars.

The white cloak followed.

Its winter fur looked impossibly soft. The clasp at the throat had been shaped into a rising sun.

Serali looked back at the embroidery.

”It is...”

She searched for the correct word.

”...beautiful.”

Callene blinked. ”Oh.”

She recovered immediately. ”Yes. I was hoping so.”

”Arms.”

Serali obeyed.

The gown settled over her shoulders with surprising warmth.

The wool lining held the last of winter outside before the cloak had even been fastened.

Callene circled once.

Twice.

Adjusted one seam.

Stepped back.

”...Excellent.”

She reached toward Serali’s left side.

Then stopped.

”...Hmm.”

Serali watched her expression change. ”What?”

”I ran out of time.”

”You... what?”

”There wasn’t enough time to finish the closures.”

Serali looked down. ”...Closures?”

Callene nodded matter-of-factly. ”We’re sewing you in.”

Silence.

”You’re what?”

”We’re sewing you in.”

One assistant had already threaded a needle.

Serali looked desperately toward Mara. ”Mara.”

Mara folded her hands serenely. ”I believe she’s serious.”

”I know she’s serious.”

”I am.”

”I was hoping someone would stop her.”

”No.”

Serali looked at the needle. ”How am I supposed to get out of it?”

Callene didn’t even pause. ”We’ll cut the thread afterward.”

”Afterward?”

”Yes.”

”...So I simply remain inside the dress until dawn?”

”Approximately.”

Serali stared. ”This seems deeply impractical.”

”It is.”

Callene smiled. ”It is also temporary.”

Needles flashed.

Tiny stitches closed the final seam beneath Serali’s arm.

Another disappeared beneath the overskirt.

Invisible.

Secure.

One assistant bit off the thread.

Callene examined the work.

”Perfect.”

Serali sighed.

”I’ve been defeated by tailoring.”

”Many have.”

Callene stepped back.

The room grew quiet.

For a long moment no one spoke.

Serali turned slowly toward the mirror.

She almost didn’t recognize herself.

The gown moved like evening sky.

The ombré seemed deeper standing than it had folded across the table, the gold constellations catching the lamplight just enough to suggest stars without overwhelming the darkness beneath them.

She lifted one hand.

The embroidered sleeve shimmered.

Not brightly.

Just...

alive.

Her throat tightened. ”It doesn’t feel...”

She searched again. ”...like a costume.”

Callene’s eyes filled unexpectedly. ”No.” She smiled. ”It isn’t.” Another blink. ”I’m sorry.”

”What for?”

”I’ve been imagining this dress for three days.”

Her laugh came out suspiciously close to a sob. ”I wasn’t entirely certain it existed.”

Serali looked back at the mirror. ”I think it does.”

Callene laughed properly then, dabbing quickly at one eye. ”Good.”

”I’d hate to have imagined three sleepless nights.”

While the assistants packed away pins and loose thread, Mara quietly took her place behind Serali.

”Sit.”

Serali obeyed.

Brush strokes drew slowly through her long black hair.

No elaborate royal arrangement.

No towering braids.

Just enough structure to keep the front away from her face while allowing the rest to fall freely down her back.

Callene watched approvingly. ”The stars.”

Mara nodded. ”I know.”

She slid slender gold constellation pins into the braided sections.

Tiny. Delicate. Visible only when the light caught them.

Callene smiled. ”There.”

”No earrings?” one assistant asked.

Mara smiled. ”Lady Serali’s ears aren’t pierced.”

Callene nodded once. ”They don’t need to be.”

Nothing more was added.

Nothing needed to be.

The room settled.

For the first time all evening...

No one adjusted anything.

No one pinned.

No one measured.

No one sewed.

Serali stood before the mirror.

Outside the windows she could hear the palace changing.

Voices. Music beginning somewhere below. The distant laughter of children. A bell.

First Sun would begin in an hour.

Three hours after that...

She would stand in the square before half the kingdom.

She deliberately did not calculate how many people that might be.

Marielle already had.

Serali had no wish to know the answer.

She smoothed one hand over the skirt.

The velvet was warm beneath her fingertips.

”Serali?”

She looked up.

Mara was watching her in the mirror. ”You’ve gone somewhere.”

Serali smiled faintly. ”I was trying very hard not to think about four hours from now.”

”Successful?”

”...No.”

Mara reached for the white cloak. ”Then don’t.”

She settled it gently around Serali’s shoulders. ”Think about the next hour.”

Serali looked at her reflection again.

The white fur framed the twilight gown like the last snow before spring.

She drew a slow breath. ”The next hour.”

”The next hour,” Mara agreed.

One hour at a time.

For some reason...

That sounded possible.

Across the palace, Allandra had considerably more than one hour to worry about.

She also had considerably more people.

”Your Majesty, arm.”

Allandra lifted it automatically.

Someone fastened a gold cuff around her wrist.

”Other arm.”

She complied.

Behind her, one attendant adjusted the fall of her skirts while another sorted pins across the dressing table. A third had both hands buried in Allandra’s hair. A fourth had disappeared into the wardrobe in search of something apparently vital to the continued functioning of the monarchy.

Normally, Allandra appreciated the efficiency of her household.

Tonight, there seemed to be entirely too much of it.

”Mama!”

Everly shot past the mirror in a blur of white, green, and gold.

”Walking,” Lessa called after her.

Everly slowed.

Technically.

Her new First Sun dress bounced around her knees as she skipped instead, white and green worked together beneath curling gold embroidery. She had been delighted with it from the moment Callene had delivered it and had spent most of the evening testing whether the skirts were suitable for spinning.

They were.

”Your Highness.” Lessa intercepted her on the return journey.

Everly stopped. ”I was walking.”

”You were skipping.”

”Skipping is walking with happy parts.”

Allandra bit the inside of her cheek.

Lessa’s eyes flicked toward her in the mirror.

Allandra immediately arranged her face into something appropriately maternal and entirely unhelpful.

Lessa sighed, ”Sit, please.”

Everly climbed onto the stool.

Lessa produced a tiny pot of gold paint.

Everly’s delight vanished. ”No.”

”Yes.”

”It tickles.”

”You specifically requested suns.”

”I changed my mind.”

”You requested them six times.”

”That was before I knew they tickled.”

Lessa caught Everly gently beneath the chin before she could squirm away. ”Hold still.”

Everly squeezed her eyes shut.

Lessa painted the first small golden sun onto her cheek.

Everly’s entire face scrunched. ”It tickles.”

”Yes.”

”I told you.”

”You did.”

Across the room, one of Allandra’s attendants stepped back from her skirts. ”Turn, Your Majesty.”

Allandra turned.

Deep green swept around her, the fitted outer gown opening into long panels over white beneath. Gold traced nearly every edge; curling vines, tiny stars, sunbursts worked so finely into the fabric that they caught the lamplight whenever she moved.

White and gold for First Sun.

Green for Avalusia.

All three colors woven together so completely that separating one from another seemed beside the point.

She ought to have been thinking about that.

Instead, she was thinking about Serali. Again.

”Your Majesty.”

Allandra blinked.

One of her attendants was holding out two hair ornaments.

”The first.”

”You didn’t look.”

”The first.”

A pause.

”Very good, Your Majesty.”

Allandra turned back toward the mirror.

Serali would be getting ready now.

Callene had refused to let anyone see the finished gown.

Apparently the design required an unveiling.

Allandra had considered invoking royal authority. Callene had informed her that royal authority did not extend to ruining surprises.

Verya, traitor that she was, had agreed.

So Allandra had no idea what Serali would be wearing. She did know Serali was nervous.

Allandra touched the bond almost without thinking.

The partitions were there.

Of course they were.

They kept them closed unless they consciously chose otherwise, a privacy that had become so habitual Allandra barely noticed it anymore.

She couldn’t feel Serali’s thoughts.

Couldn’t see through her eyes or know what she was doing.

But beneath the partitions, something still trembled.

Nerves.

Tight and restless and unmistakably Serali.

Allandra pressed gently against the bond.

Not enough to intrude.

Just a quiet pulse of warmth.

I’m here.

The partitions remained closed.

Nothing obvious came back.

Allandra waited anyway.

For one heartbeat, she thought the tension on the other side eased.

Or perhaps she only wanted it to.

She sent the reassurance once more and let the bond settle.

There was nothing more she could do for Serali from here.

So, inevitably, her thoughts turned to the reason Serali was nervous in the first place.

The demonstration.

Allandra knew every part of it by now.

She knew the lantern placements. The canopy. The birds. The precise moment Serali would step forward.

She knew every security measure Daravan had put in place. She knew where Harrek’s Watch would be stationed. She knew which rooftops would hold guards. She knew the demonstration was beautiful.

None of that prevented her from imagining everything that could go wrong.

Not with the magic.

Never the magic.

The people.

Someone shouting Lyehiran.

Someone calling Serali a witch.

Someone deciding that the moment Serali stood before thousands of people and offered them something beautiful was the ideal opportunity to remind her exactly how cruel people could be.

Allandra’s jaw tightened.

”Your Majesty.”

She looked up.

The attendant behind her had stopped arranging her hair.

”...Yes?”

”You’re glowing.”

Allandra looked down.

A faint line of gold had appeared beneath the skin of her hands.

She extinguished it immediately. ”Sorry.”

Everly twisted around on the stool. ”Mama.”

”I’m fine.”

”You were doing the angry glow.”

”I was not.”

”You were.”

Lessa looked at Allandra.

Allandra looked back.

Lessa wisely returned to Everly’s other cheek.

Allandra exhaled.

She was Queen of Avalusia.

She could not blast her own citizens with sunlight because they were rude to her Royal Mage.

Probably.

There were laws.

Verya would undoubtedly have several objections.

Allandra suspected the Queen may not incinerate subjects for heckling was written somewhere, although perhaps not in precisely those words.

She should ask.

No.

She absolutely should not ask.

Verya would realize why.

”Mama.”

Allandra looked over.

Everly was studying her.

”What?”

”You’re doing the face.”

Allandra frowned. ”What face?”

”The one where Uncle Hagen says you’re thinking of something you’re not allowed to do.”

Allandra stared at her daughter.

Across the room, someone coughed suspiciously.

”I do not have such a face.”

Everly nodded. ”You do.”

”Your uncle is a bad influence.”

”Uncle Hagen says that too.”

Of course he did.

”Done,” Lessa said.

Everly immediately scrambled off the stool.

”Careful—”

But she was already at the mirror.

She stopped. Her eyes widened. The two tiny golden suns gleamed against her cheeks.

All complaints about tickling vanished.

”Oh.”

She leaned closer.

Turned her head one way. Then the other.

The suns caught the lamplight.

”Mama, look!”

”I’m looking.”

”I have suns.”

”You do.”

”Two! I can count them.” Everly grinned at herself.

Then her eyes widened with sudden purpose. ”I have to show Uncle Hagen.”

Lessa sighed. ”Your Highness—”

”He hasn’t seen them.”

”I suspect His Highness can survive another hour without seeing your cheeks.”

Everly looked scandalized. ”But he doesn’t know I have suns.”

Apparently, this changed everything.

Allandra smiled. ”Go show your uncle.”

Everly cheered and made immediately for the door.

”Walking,” Lessa called.

Everly slowed to an aggressive skip.

”Walking.”

Another reduction in speed.

Barely.

Lessa hurried after her.

”I’ll have her downstairs in time, Your Majesty.”

”I know.”

Everly’s voice floated back from the corridor. ”UNCLE HAGEN!”

Allandra laughed.

The door closed.

And the room became quieter.

Not quiet.

There were still four attendants surrounding her.

But quieter.

Enough that Allandra could hear the palace clock ticking.

One final pin disappeared into her hair. Then came the crown.

Gold settled over the elaborate braids, its narrow rays rising around her head like the first edge of sunrise.

”Finished, Your Majesty.”

Allandra looked at herself.

Green.

White.

Gold.

Sunlight and spring and the last snow of winter.

Every inch the Queen of Avalusia on First Sun.

Her white ceremonial cloak waited on its stand nearby, fur-trimmed and untouched. That would come later, before she stepped outside.

For now, there was nothing left for her attendants to adjust.

Which was unfortunate. Being adjusted had at least given her something to think about besides Serali.

One attendant began gathering brushes.

Another collected the discarded pins.

Someone carried away the jewelry tray.

One by one, the small sounds of preparation disappeared.

Allandra looked toward the clock. Still too early.

Somewhere else in the palace, Serali was probably looking at another one. Or deliberately refusing to.

Allandra wondered what Callene had made for her.

She wondered whether Serali liked it.

Four hours.

In four hours, Serali would walk into the center of the palace square and ask an entire kingdom to look at the thing they had spent generations being taught to fear.

And trust her with it.

Allandra had spent months asking Avalusia to give her that chance.

She had argued with the council. With nobles. With frightened citizens.

With people who thought trust was something Serali ought to earn while offering none of their own in return.

Tonight, the kingdom would finally see what Allandra had already seen.

That should have reassured her.

It didn’t.

Because Serali could do everything perfectly. She could make the shadows beautiful. She could shield every lantern. She could send seven ridiculous birds soaring around the Eastern Flame.

She could speak every word of the oath exactly as Verya had written it.

And someone could still choose cruelty.

Gold flickered beneath Allandra’s fingertips again.

She closed her hands.

No.

She was not going to blast anyone.

She was going to light the Eastern Flame.

She was going to smile serenely while several thousand people watched them.

And if anyone decided to be particularly objectionable...

Allandra drew a slow breath.

Harrek or Daravan could deal with them.

Probably.

She looked at herself in the mirror.

Serene.

Regal.

Certain.

At least from the outside.

Allandra had years of practice with the outside.

The rest of her would simply have to wait until she saw Serali.