their heads and filed out through the great double doors, which fell heavily back into place.
And then they were alone.
Feyn moved toward a wingbacked chair off to the side of the curtained window. “Come, Dominic.”
He rose stiffly and then stood before her, uncertain. Rowan had always invited him to sit beside him in the chair’s companion seat. But Feyn only sat back and merely waited for him to speak.
He folded his hands. “Please understand the nature of my concern. You came back to us in… a most unusual manner. And while I’m certain you could not know the nature of the things your brother said before that moment, I must inform you that they were entirely disturbing.”
“Were they?” Her forearm extended along the arm of the chair, fingers holding the rim of her goblet.
“Yes. And I feel compelled to inquire as to your own… beliefs in these matters. Your loyalties.”
“You ask the Sovereign where her loyalties lay?”
“Indeed, my lady. I fear your brother has hinted at thoughts that no good man of Order should ever think. He has spoken highest blasphemy. And this is saying nothing of the fact that he murdered the Regent in cold blood before our very eyes.”
She glanced down, cradled her cup on her lap, and slowly traced the rim of it with a fingertip. Her eyes lifted. “And your point?”
“I must ask you, my lady, with all respect. Do you follow the Order? Will you serve it? Would you die for it?”
A strange turn of a smile formed at the corners of her mouth. “It would not be the first time I have died for this office, would it?”
“Yes, forgive me. And yet-”
“I will die for this office,” she interrupted. “And serve it.”
“Would you die also for the truth, lady-of the Maker, and of the Order that is his hand?”
“The truth? What is the truth, Dominic?”
He said what was said by all, learned in early childhood. “We know the Maker through his Order.”
“I see. Then I must ask you, Dominic, what is a Maker?”
“But of course, the one who gives life, my lady.”
“And do you have life?”
“Yes. Though your brother doesn’t seem to think so.”
“And I? Do I have life?”
He glanced at her hands, then her eyes. “Clearly.”
“How do you know?”
“You see, you breathe.” How could he not shudder at the memory of her first, ragged gasp of air as her chest had arched up off that altarlike stone table?
“And how do you know that you have life?” she asked.
“Because I stand here before you.”
“I see. And what is the purpose of our lives, if you don’t mind?”
“To serve the Maker.”
“Then we are in agreement.”
Dominic nodded slightly. “And we know the Maker through Order.”
“We know the Maker by his stamp upon us. By the life in our veins, do we not?”
“I… yes. In a manner of speaking.”
“And we know the Maker also by those inner leanings we all have to serve him, do we not? The fear of disappointing him in any way.”
“Indeed.”
“Some call it fear. But we, Dominic, know it as loyalty. As love. Do we not?”
Why did he feel the need to hesitate?
But no. He was simply taken aback to see her so well recovered. And clothed.
“Yes,” he replied. “By our love.”
“But do you really know what love is, Dominic?”
“It is the fear of the Maker. It is the thing we commit to, that we make our actions and minds beholden to.”
“And if we love our Maker, do we also love and serve his hand?”
“Yes, of course.”
“Am I the hand of the Maker on earth, Dominic?”
“Indeed, my lady. You are the One.”
“Was I not born and raised to be Sovereign by the laws of succession, chosen by the Maker?”
“There is no question, my lady. You are the rightful Sovereign.”
“You are a man of the Book, Dominic. I wonder, what is the punishment for anyone who would stand in the way of the Order’s elect taking office? Of one who would even rule…
He paused.
“Dominic?”
“Death, my lady.”
“Hmm.”
Again, the image of Rowan’s head falling from his neck sliced through his mind.
“And yet you recoiled at that punishment when it was carried out. Do you object to the rules of Order?”
“Never! By my word, I have served Order all my life. Diligently, with the hope of Bliss.”
“So you will swear your loyalty to me?”
“But of course, my Sovereign.”
“How can I know for certain?”
Dominic was only just aware that his purpose in coming to Feyn had somehow been reversed. He was now the one under interrogation. Her power as Sovereign was evident even now.
“The Maker knows my loyalty,” he said. “Demand anything of me so that you will know as well.”
She watched him without expression, dark eyes unblinking, haunting.
“Kneel before your Sovereign.”
He lowered both knees to the thick rug in one motion.
Feyn rose, set the goblet aside, and stepped up to him.
“You give me your full loyalty?”
“I do, my lady.”
“The Maker has chosen me to rule over you as Sovereign. Will you defer to my judgment and wisdom in all things?”
“I will.”
“Swear it.”
“I swear.”
She stepped closer-so close that he might reach out and touch the velvet of her gown. Her hand rested on top of his head. He could feel the warmth of it through his graying hair. Again, the smell of musk, spice, wine…
“Even if you may not understand my actions, you will defer to me in all things, trusting that I am loyal to the Maker,” she said quietly.
Why this sense of relief, this abating of fear that came with such a clear path? “I will.”
“Even if it surpasses your own understanding, defies your own logic and will.”
“I will.”
“Then you do well.” Her hand slid down to his cheek. She tilted his face up and gazed at him with a hint of tenderness. “One day I may reward you with a gift. If I do, take it with grace.”
“I will, my lady. But serving is gift enough.”
His fear was nearly gone, replaced by strange and profound peace. Yes. Surely here was the mouth and hand of the Maker on earth.
“You may rise.”
He would have remained on his knees until they stiffened and he could no longer feel his feet. But he slowly
