Once again, Roa had refused to wear any of the royal kaftans sewn for her after the coronation, nor did she wear the gold jewelry inherited from the former dragon queen. Instead, she wore a long linen dress dyed with saffron and her wrists were adorned with bronze bracelets, hammered by scrublander coppersmiths. Her earned scythe was sheathed at her hip.
Dax eyed her attire before they set out, saying nothing.
Despite the rising sun, it was still cold and Roa pulled her sandskarf tighter around her shoulders, trying to keep warm.
She’d been up all night, worrying about Theo and Rebekah’s plan. Worrying about what would happen to Essie if it all went wrong.
So, as the circular building rose before them—its copper dome shining in the sunlight, its white walls as high as the palace’s—she spoke her thoughts aloud.
“What reasons would Rebekah have to plot against you?” she asked him.
Dax, who’d been quiet and withdrawn all morning, glanced her way sharply, as if he’d forgotten she was there.
“None that are honorable,” he said.
That was not an answer. Roa tried again. “What evidence do you have?”
“Enough to suspect those involved.” Her heart hammered at the way he studied her. “But not enough to accuse them.”
Roa held his gaze. Again, this answer was too vague to be of any use to her. She needed to be careful if she pressed him further, though. If he suspected Roa’s involvement with Theo and Rebekah, then he would already be on high alert. And if he didn’t suspect, she didn’t want to give him reason to.
So all she said was: “So if you can’t accuse her, then what’s the point of this?”
They’d arrived at the marble steps of the Great Assembly. Double doors loomed at the top, guarded on either side by two dragon statues. The dragons stared down at Roa, their mouths open, their teeth bared, as if about to roar at her.
Dax stopped at the first step and turned around. Roa studied him in the post-dawn light. He wore a white tunic and embroidered silver dragons chased each other around the collar.
“You told me once that the moment I know my opponent’s favorite piece, I know her weakness.”
Roa thought of those long-ago lessons trying to teach him how to play gods and monsters.“Never reveal yourself,”she murmured, nodding. It was one of the rules of the game.
He looked up to the domed marble building that cast them in its shadow. “Thecouncilis Bekah’s favorite piece. Her power is on full display here.”
His guards had reached the top of the steps, waiting for the king and queen, while Roa’s guards scanned the empty street at the bottom.
“So what will you do?” she said to his back as he started up the steps.
“Undermine her. Provoke her.”
Roa hitched up her dress and followed him. “And then?”
He paused at the top, waiting as two of his guards opened the doors. “And thenwait. When she retaliates—and Bekah always retaliates—I’ll be ready. And I’ll have my evidence.”
He held out his arm, motioning Roa inside. She stepped into the massive hall, her footsteps echoing as sunlight spilled in long, thin bars across the tiled floor. Again, she wondered at the history between Dax and Rebekah.
“What did you do,” she asked softly, so their guards wouldn’t hear, “to make her hate you so much?”
Dax stiffened beside her. Their footsteps fell out of sync. He didn’t answer for a long while.
“Bekah and I were friends, once.” He didn’t look at Roa while he said this. “Before the revolt.”
Roa waited for more.
“It was only ever a friendship. At least, for me it was.”
He looked back over his shoulder, as if checking to see if anyone watched them. But only Roa’s guards followed.
“In order to bring down my father’s regime, I had to make a choice. I could have gone to Bekah and asked for her help. With her father funding me, it would have been easy. The baron would have given me whatever I needed... as long as I made his daughter queen.” He shook his head. “But I didn’t go to Bekah.”
