Roa thought of that night in New Haven, the war camp.How exhausted she was from taking Darmoor, from riding all night. How determined she was to force Dax’s hand, and in doing so, ensure her people’s protection.
She thought of him in the tent, staring down at the map. As if he were waiting for her. And when she gave him her proposition, he’d been so calm. As if he already knew that she’d ask, and he’d spent the whole night pondering his answer.
“You knew what I’d do before I did it,” she realized now.
“I know how to read you.” His mouth turned down, as if this were a burden. “I grew up playing gods and monsters with you. Youtaughtme how to read you.”
“Why?” she demanded, feeling suddenly angry. “Why choose me instead of Rebekah if you knew I’d give you the same proposition she would?”
He looked up at the dais, where twin gilt thrones stood side by side.
“Why do you think?” he said softly.
Roa thought of Rebekah circling Dax like prey at dinner. Of Rebekah hunting down Torwin—Dax’s best friend—and keeping him captive. Of Rebekah putting Essie in a cage and using her as leverage.
I’m the lesser of two evils,she realized.
Roa shivered at the thought.
Twenty-Four
The council meeting did not go as Dax hoped.
It was late afternoon and despite the fact that the meeting had ended long ago, Roa and her guards were still within the Great Assembly. They stood at the window, watching the mob gather on the front steps, packing the street.
When Dax announced that seven council members were being held in the dungeons for treason, the initial response was disbelief. When he introduced their temporary replacements—four skral and three scrublanders—the unease set in. And when he called for a vote to lift the sanctions on the scrublands, the vote passed seven to five.
In the midst of her shock, Roa couldn’t help but be impressed.
Rebekah was furious.
The city was in an uproar.
They hurled insults and rotten food at the assembly building. They accused Roa of framing the council. They accused Dax of being manipulated by his scrublander wife.
Safire had to send double the guards to retrieve the king and queen. With so many travelers here for the Relinquishing, the streets were crowded and had become nearly impassable.
The king left first. Safire hoped he would draw away most of the crowd, but it hadn’t worked. And as the midafternoon sun pulsed above the city, Roa started to pace the hall. She was running out of time. The people of Firgaard had her trapped, and the longer she stayed here, the less time she had to find a secret way into the palace. She needed to report back to Rebekah by tomorrow night.
“Don’t worry,” said Celeste, watching Roa pace. “It will be all right.”
Roa stopped. She glanced at her scrublander guard to find the girl studying her linen dress and sandskarf.
“I have an idea,” said Celeste.
Safire, who’d been at the window, fingering the hilts of her throwing knives as she stared down the crowd, snapped out of her brooding. “What idea?”
“The queen and I are roughly the same height and build,” Celeste explained, stepping up beside Roa to demonstrate.
It was true. And while Celeste normally wore her curls loose and free—unlike Roa, who kept hers cropped close to her head—today the girl had plaited her hair.
Roa took in Celeste’s shirt, which bore the emblem of the dragon king on its sleeve, then her belt, then her polished boots. When she glanced to her face, the guard’s eyes were gleaming.
“How do you feel about wearing trousers, my queen?”
The citizens of Firgaard fell for the bait. Dressed in the queen’s saffron gown, with the queen’s sandskarf hooding her face and the royal guard surrounding her, Celeste had passed for Roa. The only difficult part had been convincing Safire to let Roa return to the palace alone, dressed as a soldat, without her guard.
Roa waited until the last of the mob disappeared down the street, unbolted the assembly doors, and slipped out.
