The guard was mid-bow when he paused, glancing between them. “Your Highness?”
“The sun is hurting his eyes. He needs your visor.” She held out her hand. “Just for the day.”
The guard hesitated, then handed it to Yassen. “Don’t break it,” he muttered.
As he left, Yassen slipped on the visor. It was too big on his face, resting right on his high cheekbones, but it would do.
“Whatever happens,” she said, “don’t leave my side.”
“Ferma would kill me if I did.”
The shrouded monument sat at the base of the city historical museum, a tall building sculpted from sandstone and decorated with stained-glass windows as bright as a monsoon sunset. A crowd gathered beyond the steps, held back by metal gates and armed guards.
Elena met Jangir at the base of the shrouded monument, Yassen on her right, a guard named Mihir on her left. She glanced at the new guard. It felt odd not to have Ferma beside her, to sense her presence like a boulder in the dunes, constant, dependable, solid. But then she caught Yassen’s gaze, and he nodded. Offered a tight smile.
Elena returned it, meant it, and her eyes lingered on him a moment longer. Though he was no Spear, Elena realized she had grown to look forward to seeing Yassen on her right like a twin shadow. He cocked his head as she stared, as if asking a question, and she shook her head, turning away before he could see her cheeks warming.
“Your Highness, meet my comrades,” Jangir said as two men stepped forward.
The drizzle had stopped, and the sun broke out, blinding the streets with its brilliance. Elena held up her hand, blinking, so it took her a moment to realize that the bowing man on her right was none other than Varun.
“Your Highness,” Varun said with an oily smile. “We hope you’ll find this monument most breathtaking.”
“It is a gift from us all,” the man beside Varun said. He was skinny like Jangir, but taller, with a long, hawkish nose.
“My men Varun and Leelat organized it all,” Jangir said. He spread his hands as the crowd let out a cheer. “If you will do us the honor.”
Elena glanced at Varun, but the man did not seem to recognize her, smile still dripping down his jowls. She wanted to shake him.
Varun gestured to her. “Just pull off the cover.”
Dhols beat a new rhythm as she stepped forward and picked up the hem of the red cloth. She could feel their eyes on her back. Heard the soft hush in Jangir’s voice as he whispered a prayer of benediction.
“So we the blessed few.”
She yanked back the cover, the red cloth rippling to reveal a statue of her.
Herandher father.
She was sitting on what looked like a throne, but smaller, while Leo stood behind her, arms braced on her shoulders as they both seemed to gaze off into the horizon. A roar broke out through the crowd, but Elena did not hear them. She could only stare, mouth slack with shock.
Because sitting on their heads, in the middle of their crowns, were gold caps. Made of actual gold, glistening in the sun.
Elena Aadya Ravence wore a gold cap, and the crowd cheered for it.
Elena stumbled back. An arm pressed against her, steadying her, and she turned to see Yassen.
“I have you,” he said. Though she could not see his eyes, she heard the strain in his voice, felt the stiffness in his arm. “I can get you out of here if you want.”
What she wanted was to burn the statue. To melt off the gold caps and hammer the metal until it was flat and formless. Her body trembled.
Howdarethey?Never in her life had she donned the cap. Never in her life would she do so. But her likeness stared back at her with a serene smile, hands folded smoothly like Jangir in the car.
The gold caps are here to stay.
This statue was more than a reminder.
It was an order.
