“Give them your best, Tessana,” she would whisper in my ear. “And they shall give you theirs.”
I remembered playing dollies with my little sister and making beds out of the drawers of chests. Sometimes we would steal flowers from the vases dotting the corridors and make our dollies hair wreaths. Sometimes we would braid them into our own hair.
And sometimes we would leave them for our mother to find.
I remembered my father’s heavy footsteps as he strode down the halls. I imagined them right now, walking toward us, ready to greet his distinguished guests.
And Taelon would have been distinguished.
Any member of any of the nine royal families would be cause for my father to greet them at the entrance to his palace. Because he was courteous and kind and deserving of the crown.
And yet, Tyrn had not deigned Taelon worthy of his greeting. We were told we’d be taken to the throne room where “His Majesty would give us a brief audience before retiring for the evening.”
Anger burned within me. I was offended on Taelon’s behalf. It was a slight for Tyrn to ignore the potential importance of Taelon’s visit. Not offering Taelon a dinner invitation was another rebuff.
If this was any indication of how Tyrn ran the realm, I could see why the villages we’d passed were falling into such monumental disrepair.
My boots clicked against the polished floor and my grip tightened on Taelon’s arm, who didn’t seem surprised by the rude greeting or behavior of the palace staff.
We passed side tables and gleaming candelabra that had been in the Allisand family for centuries. Unlike the countryside we’d driven through, the palace had remained pristine.
The throne room was near the center of the palace, away from the hub of activity. The footman led us to the doors and whispered Taelon’s name to the herald. Before I could build my courage and take a full breath, the herald swept the door open and announced our presence.
“The Crown Prince Taelon Treskinat, Duke of Westnovia, Royal General of Soravale.” He paused for dramatic effect, and finished with, “And distinguished guest.”
Taelon squeezed my arm and pulled me into the throne room as I came to terms with “distinguished guest.”
Soon enough we were standing in the middle of the ornate room, beneath a chandelier dripping with diamonds.
I glanced at the stained-glass windows depicting battles and the kings that came before my father, and at the people moving silently around the room dressed in all their finery.
The floor was polished marble, sparkling with flecks of diamonds worked into the gold and ivory swirls. Wall sconces were evenly spaced around the room, hanging with the same diamond netting that adorned the chandeliers. Chairs plated with pure gold and upholstered with white fur provided rows of spectator seating. The royal guard surrounded the room, dressed in their white and gold finery, gilded spears in their right hands, lethal swords resting on their hips.
I looked up as my uncle staggered from the throne that had once belonged to my father. It had mesmerized me as a child and even now stole my breath. A great ruby protruded from the center of the high back. Diamonds spread out in either direction and down the arms.
The ruby matched the smaller version set in the crown I carried.
Both gems were said to have been pulled from deep inside this mountain. They were to remind everyone that gazed upon them of the bloodshed before our peace. They were rumored to have been the only colored gemstone within any of the Diamond Mountains. The pagans believed that the rubies held mystical powers that would keep the Nine Kingdoms united as long as both gemstones remained in the same place. The religion of the Light taught that they had been placed there by the Light Itself.
I looked at my uncle, who stared at me with horror. I had always found him intimidating. He was excessively tall and thick across the chest. His features were not as refined as my father’s had been, and he did not carry the same presence.
He was not a kind man.
I had once heard him publicly berate a servant for not polishing his boots to his liking. My uncle threatened to have him thrown in the dungeon the next time Tyrn woke up to boots looking like “pig piss.”
Now, as he looked at me as if I were the devil incarnate, I felt my skin crawl.
“You’re dead,” he declared. He jolted unevenly down the steps to the main floor. “I buried you myself. You are dead.”
I could not find my voice. I had not expected him to know who I was. And I had truly not expected to have to defend my being alive.
Since I could not speak, Taelon spoke for me, “Your Majesty, I know this comes as quite the shock. Believe me, I was as surprised as you, but if you would list—”
“You are dead!” Tyrn yelled in my face. “How can this be? How can you be here?” He glanced around wildly, seemingly searching for someone in particular. “What sorcery is this? Who is responsible for this apparition?”
“Sir,” Taelon tried harder. “If you would listen, I could explain—”
Tyrn stepped up to Taelon, “You brought this creature here! You summoned her from the abyss of Denamon to take the throne from me! I will have your head, boy! I will mount it on a stick outside the wall so that every kingdom will see that I am the one who sits on the Seat of Power!”
Frantic, I reached for my uncle’s elbow and shouted, “Uncle Tyrn!” He stilled, his words dying in his throat. I tried again, “Uncle Tyrn, if you would only listen, we could explain to you—”
“Uncle Tyrn?” he asked, his eyebrows rising. “Did you say Uncle Tyrn?”
“I
