“Stop using childish words.”
“I’m sorry, Father,” I say, then, “Captain,” because I’m not sure which he’d prefer now that I’ve disappointed him so completely. I shouldn’t have told him the truth.
But I had to tell. There was no avoiding it. Isra can see, and she wants to know why. I wouldn’t be surprised to find her on Father’s doorstep first thing in the morning. Father would have known soon enough. Better that he heard it from me.
“I thought I was doing right by my future wife,” I say. “That’s all. I never meant to defy you.”
He finally turns to me, but I wish he hadn’t. The utter absence of feeling in his eyes makes my heart lurch. He has never looked at me like this, even when he used a switch to express his displeasure with his only son.
“You disobeyed an order from your father, who is also your superior, and violated the wishes of your former king,” he says, every word as crisp as the folds ironed into his uniform. My mother irons his clothes herself.
The maids never get the creases quite right, and everything must be exactly right in my father’s house. Perfect. If not, everyone under his roof pays the price. “That is the definition of defiance.”
“I—I’m sorry,” I stammer again, hating the whine creeping into my voice. Father’s right; I sound like a child.
It’s Isra’s fault. I never should have told her about the tea. I should have let her live out the rest of her life in the darkness. What difference will it really make? Will sight make her happy, and even if it does, does her happiness matter? The kingdom doesn’t require her happiness, only her blood.
“You’re impulsive, Bo. That isn’t a good trait in a king.” Father rises from his chair and crosses to stand too close, the way he does when one of his soldiers has stepped out of line. I’ve seen Father break men with nothing more than a stern look, but he doesn’t stop with a look when it comes to his son.
He hasn’t struck me in years—not since I joined the military force when I was sixteen—but I can tell he wants to now. My jaw clenches; my teeth ache. Beads of sweat form on my upper lip, but I’m too afraid to wipe them away. It’s best not to move when Father gets this way.
“You didn’t stop to think that she’d want an explanation?” he asks, his voice terribly gentle, like the slaughterer’s hand when he takes a sheep tenderly by the scruff of its neck.
“I thought …” I swallow. “I plan to tell her I heard a rumor.”
“She’ll want to know where you heard it.”
“I’ll tell her I don’t know,” I say, “that I heard two people talking, but it was dark and—”
“You’re a poor liar,” he says, watching me like I’m an insect found swimming in his bed pot. “The girl isn’t a complete fool. She’ll know you’re deceiving her. She’ll decide you’re not trustworthy, and what girl wants as a husband a man she can’t trust?”
I’m tempted to tell him Isra has already promised to marry me, as long as I keep quiet about her activities with the Monstrous, but I bite the inside of my lip. If Father finds out I disobeyed him a second time by speaking about the marriage when he expressly forbade it, and then left Isra alone with a monster …
I shudder to think how he’d look at me after that. I don’t want to remember what it feels like to cower at his feet.
“You’ve made this far more complicated than it needed to be,” he continues, eyes so cold it makes me shiver despite the blazing fire at my back.
“I’m sorry.” I drop my gaze, staring at the lines on either side of his mouth, just visible beneath his mustache. In the firelight, his wrinkles are more defined. He’s an old man. He can’t live forever, and when he is gone, I will truly be king. I’ll make the decisions for this city, and they will be good ones. I’m not impulsive. It was affection that made me foolish, but I won’t make the mistake of caring for my queen again. Isra isn’t worth the trouble.
I’ll hold my tongue until the day we’re married, and then I’ll show her how a true ruler gives orders.
“Yes, well … I suppose we’ll have to tell her the truth,” Father says, a hint of hard humor in his tone. “I’ll tell her I placed the herbs in her tea every morning,” he says, bending to toss another dung patty onto the fire, though the room is already stifling. “But only because her father begged me to continue doing so once he was no longer able to administer them himself.”
I hesitate, but can’t keep from saying, “She won’t believe you.”
Father grunts as he returns to his chair. “I’ll show her the official order, signed in her father’s hand.” He sits down with a soft groan.
I imagine the pain Isra will feel when she realizes it was her own father who sentenced her to darkness, and some weak part of me wants to feel sorry for her, but I clench my jaw against it. Pity is what got me into trouble in the first place. I can’t afford pity. A king must be made of sterner stuff.
“And then I’ll tell her the story of her poor mother,” Father continues, “and I’ll reveal to her all the terrible sights that her father wanted to protect her from.”
My lips part. He wouldn’t. “But, Father …”
“But what?” He snaps, setting my nerves on edge all over again.
“I’m not sure how she’ll take it,” I say, careful to sound suitably submissive, though I’m horrified by what he plans to do. I don’t care for Isra the way I did, but this isn’t right. She’s been living in a dream world. If that dream is ripped away, who knows what will happen? She might go as mad as her mother. She might be the next queen to hurl herself from her balcony. If she takes her own life before we’re married, she will bring about the fall of Yuan. Isra isn’t completely rational as it is. It’s dangerous to test her sanity this way. “She truly has no idea, and I—”
“She will have a very good idea by the time tomorrow is through.”
“But I—”
“You what?” he asks, standing so abruptly it startles me into a step backward. “You thought you’d give her eyes and not have her see?”
“Please,” I say, holding up my palms in an instinctive plea for understanding. “I have a plan. We’ll keep her in the nobles’ village. There’s no reason the queen should go into the city center or the Banished camp.
She’s already been presented to the people. After we’re married, I can handle all interactions with the common people and—”
“You can’t keep your piss in the pot,” he spits. “All you had to do was keep your mouth shut and wait for the kingship to be delivered into your hands, but you ruined it. You destroyed what I’ve sacrificed so much to ensure.”
“What have you sacrificed?” I ask, suddenly angry. “You won’t have to marry a woman marked for death. You won’t have to watch her die. You won’t have to know your children will meet the same fate if they’re born female.”
I pull in a breath, fighting to regain control. I’ve never spoken like this to Father, but I’ve never been on the verge of sentencing my entire family to death, either. I don’t love Isra, but I don’t hate her. I don’t want her to die. I don’t want my next wife or my daughters to die. The sacrifice of the queen seemed like a sad but noble act growing up, but now it is a black, twisted thing squirming its way into my life, poisoning every thought and feeling.
I brace myself, expecting Father to strike me, to shout at the very least, but instead he sits back down in his chair. He sighs, and the rigid lines of his shoulders relax as he bows his head over folded hands.
“I didn’t mean to sound ungrateful,” I whisper, not sure what to make of his response. “I want to be king. I just never expected it to be so … difficult.”
“Maybe I’ve …” Father runs his hands over his head, pushing springy gray hairs back into the smooth black of his braid. “Maybe I’ve made a mistake.”
“No, Father,” I say, panicking at the thought of having my new torment taken away. I don’t want to be king, but I can’t stand the thought of
“Don’t I?” He lifts his face. The shadows there seem darker than they did even a moment ago. “I thought you were ready. I thought I was ready.
But … there are things …” He takes a breath, and his fingers tighten on the arms of the chair. “The king was planning to marry again.”
“What?” I ask, genuinely surprised. “But it’s been thirteen years since Isra’s mother died.”
“Yes, and as time passed, the king grew increasingly certain that he couldn’t bear for his only daughter to meet the same fate as her mother.
