A hush fell over the room and a rustling of clothes rippled through the air as everyone shifted to look at me. I lifted my head, tilted my chin, and focused on not tripping.
The aisles loomed on either side like tentacles of a great sea creature. Every seat in the room was taken. Every space in the back was filled. The only clear space was the aisle that led me forward—toward the council that would decide my fate.
Oliver’s rich brown eyes captured my attention almost immediately. He stood tucked in the corner near the servant’s entrance. I didn’t acknowledge him, but his half smile managed to give me enough confidence to continue moving forward. Even if no one else did, Oliver believed me. Oliver had faith in me.
I didn’t allow myself the freedom to look around again and so I knew not whether my audience was dignitaries or common villagers. My eyes stayed fixed on the council at the front of the room.
Ornate chairs had been brought in for each council member. I recognized Hugo at once, but as he did not move to acknowledge me, I decided it was best to do the same.
Tyrn sat in the center and the monarchs spread out on either side of him. Hugo sat four down from him at the very edge of Tyrn’s left side—the place of least importance.
Realizing that Hugo had been slighted, I scanned the rest of the monarchs, anxious to see who Tyrn had aligned with.
It had been too long for me to recognize any of them from memory, so I identified them by their colors. I was surprised to see the king of Barstus sitting to my uncle’s immediate left, but more so to see Blackthorne to his direct right, the highest place of honor.
Queen Ravanna Presydia of Blackthorne looked just like I remembered her. Sleek black hair pulled tight at her temples only to flow in pin-straight silk down her back. Her lips were painted a deep red that accentuated her delicate cheekbones and long neck while the dark kohl around her eyes brought out their vibrant green. She was as stunning as I remembered. And as terrifying.
She was the only monarch not to wear both of her royal colors. Instead, her gown was as black as her hair. The tight bodice contrasted starkly with her pale skin and the skirt appeared to be made entirely of long black feathers. As did the cape she wore, clasped at her neck and covering only the tops of her shoulders, leaving her porcelain arms exposed.
The Cold Queen, my mother had called her.
I felt the truth of it as our gazes clashed across the room. A shiver raced down my spine that left a chill so potent, my bones felt like they cracked and split. My body knew what my mind was only now just realizing.
These people terrified me.
But that didn’t change anything.
I grappled control of my body. Father Garius had taught me all about fear. He’d taught me how to combat it. How to make it submissive to the greater attributes of self-discipline and willpower.
I held her stare. I did not waver, even while inside I trembled. I did not flinch, even while my hands clutched the fabric of my gown. I did not turn away from that chilling glare until my uncle’s voice called for my attention.
“You claim to be Tessana Allisand of the house of Extentia, my sister’s oldest daughter, heir to the throne of Elysia. On what grounds do you come before this court?” My uncle’s voice boomed through the room.
“Because I am who I say I am.” My voice started small and unsure, but I realized I needed conviction to prove my point. “My father was Fredrix Allisand, the Hundredth King of the Nine Kingdoms. My mother was Gwynlyn Fennick Allisand, Queen of the Realm. My brothers were Alesk, Benedict, Erix, and Brayne. My younger sister was Katrinka. All were taken from me more than eight years ago—massacred in our home.” My voice broke as memories surfaced. “I saw their throats slit and their bodies drained of blood.” Tears fell from my eyes, but I hardly noticed. “They were murdered. Here in this palace. I am who I say I am. And I have returned to claim what is rightfully mine.”
When I had blinked away the last of the tears and could see clearly again, I noticed some of the council watched me with glassy eyes.
And some looked as though they would be very happy to end Conandra now. As well as my life.
A gruff, hard king leaned forward. His hair was as white as the snow-capped peaks of the Diamond Mountains, but his skin was tanned and weathered. The navy blue and forest green of his crest identified him as the King of Kasha, Devonish Katansa. “So, you can cry, child. Now give us something real. We want facts and proof.”
He had a point. “The morning my family was murdered, I was with Taelon Treskinat. His family had come to visit the palace to celebrate my newest brother, Brayne. I’m not sure if you remember, but at that time I was betrothed to Taelon. My father had six children that he wished to marry off. I was meant for Soravale and their oldest prince. A monk by the name of Father Garius from the Brotherhood of Silence was also visiting the palace. It will be in the records books. He is the high priest at the Temple of Eternal Light in Heprin near the Rolling Hills of Gane. When I found my family dead, Taelon urged me to go with Father Garius before my family’s murderer found me as well. Taelon believed that I would not survive the day, that whoever killed my family would hunt me down. He took the Crown of Nine from my father and
