“That was damned impressive, Jularra,” Vylas offered. “For a moment there, I didn’t think you’d be strong enough to help me with that.”
Jularra sniffed, then laughed. “Thanks.”
“I meant no insult. Only to say that we haven’t done anything together like that before.”
Jularra held up a hand in understanding and nodded. “No, I know. I appreciate it, regardless.”
Vylas winked at her, and after setting the candle alight, he brought it to the bank of candles on the nearby table and lit them as well. By the next rumble of thunder, the room’s light and shadows danced hand in hand.
When enough candles had been lit, Vylas made his way back into the kitchen. He put some water on to boil and came to rest in the corner between the basin and chest of cupboards.
“Did my mother ever talk about the ceremony?”
Vylas shifted as he pondered how to answer. He slipped into the light as he moved, but then leaned back into the comfort of the shadows.
“Do you remember?” Jularra asked.
Vylas pushed away from the cupboards and slid the end of one of the dining table benches out with his foot. He sat down and stretched out his legs, looking to the kettle to see if it was starting to steam. He caught Jularra's expectant gaze and had to look back to the table.
“The last time we spoke,” Vylas reluctantly began, “was when you and your mother visited to get your reliquary blessed. I understood the urgency. I knew what was about to happen.”
The rain and rumblings reclaimed their command of the room, though the break in conversation was the loudest thing of all.
“My dear Vylas,” Jularra murmured affectionately. “That’s not what I asked.”
Vylas continued staring at the grain of the table in front of him.
“I know,” he whispered.
He slowly turned his head and looked at Jularra.
“I don’t like thinking of her pain.”
Jularra slumped over, understanding but frustrated. Trying to think of a different way to broach how her mother felt about the ceremony, Jularra began to absentmindedly pick at her fingers. But her lack of an idea let her mind wander. It found its way back to the assassin, and the web of potential threats. Before she could get too deep into contemplation, however, the break in conversation ended.
“You think a lot like she did,” Vylas resumed. “She was angry at the obligation. The cycle of twisted devotion to that… thing that saved our people so long ago. She said many of the same things as you. But she didn’t resist much, save for a few conversations in private. No, she honored her part in the oath for the safety of our people.”
Jularra intertwined her fingers and peered into the fire.
“A ten-year-old female heir must be offered up before midnight of the reigning queen’s thirty-eighth birthday?” Vylas' voice was soft.
Jularra let her head fall gently to the side. Her vision fell with it as she stared off into a dusty corner and nodded.
“Well,” Vylas started. “That’s plenty of time to see about that assassin.”
Jularra smiled bleakly as she repeated Vylas’ words.
“Plenty of time.”
Three
The queen walked out onto her private terrace and caressed the ivy. She leaned over the worn stone railing and marveled once again at how high the persistent plant had climbed after growing steadily up the south tower for the past several months. It seemed just yesterday that it was still dozens of feet away from reaching the terrace.
Jularra tickled the leaves, smiling at the vine’s audacity. Perhaps it was seeking a respite on the terrace to enjoy the last few minutes of predawn. The queen took a hint from her new verdant friend and looked to the peaks of the eastern mountains, squinting as the rising sun claimed the sky.
Her eyes narrowed further as more light spilled over the mountains, but it was fleeting. A bruised blanket of clouds put the sun in its place almost as quickly as it had appeared.
Jularra heard the dense slap of her curtains being beaten to the side. She turned, then relaxed upon seeing Korden. She took the chalice from his outstretched hand and immediately took a sip.
“Mmm.” She offered the chalice a silent compliment with her eyes. “What is it today?”
Korden stepped closer to the rail while struggling to remember.
“Ah, I believe it’s a granatus cider. They’re preparing it especially for the council meeting.”
Jularra leaned against the ledge. Korden smiled and took a sip of his own drink.
“You there, with the flowers!” Jularra called down to the courtyard.
A man with his arms full of flowers stopped and looked around. He stepped back and tossed his bundles back into his wooden cart before finally looking up. His crooked frown turned into a smile once he realized the queen was addressing him.
“Ah, good morning, Your Majesty! How may I be of service?”
“Those are the first flowers of the season. Don’t waste too many of them on the meeting today. Save plenty for your wife and customers!”
“Oh, thank you, Your Majesty! Thank you very much indeed!”
Jularra continued looking down, procrastinating on the return to Korden’s conversation, but he would have none of it.
“You can’t avoid the council forever, you know.” He smiled again as he took another drink.
“I am avoiding nothing. That man just doesn’t need to be wasting his flowers.”
“I agree,” Korden returned. “But we still need to talk about the meeting.”
“No, we don’t. I know what is going to be said, and I know how I will respond. Please let me enjoy the morning.”
Korden sighed.
“Well,” he succumbed, “this won’t be an easy day, despite knowing what will be said.” He threw back his last gulp and plonked his cup on the ledge before turning to leave. “I’m going to go see if Robain has arrived.”
Jularra pointed at him sternly as she swallowed the last of her own drink.
“Don’t you two
