“Risha, darling, how fares Tsuana?”
Queen Risha was a tall woman with smooth ebony skin and grey braids that cascaded down her back. She wore a shark-tail-shaped headdress, the beaded shells softly jingling as she dipped her head.
“Gentlemen,” she said. “Princess. Congratulations on your engagement and your upcoming coronation.”
“Thank you,” Elena said. “Thank you all for coming.”
“Thank your future king,” Farin said. He set down an empty glass. “He’s a dear old friend.”
“I brought us together because I’d like my friends to coexist peacefully with my family,” Samson said. He had only taken a sip from his wine. “This is a new era for Ravence, which means a new era for Jantar. Perhaps we can finally bring peace to this holy land.”
Farin snorted. “What did this land ever know of peace?”
Ravence would know peace if the Jantari left us alone, Elena thought but held her tongue. She glanced at Queen Risha, who wore a tight smile.
Farin must have noticed it too because he smiled, quickly correcting himself. “Ah, but you are right, my boy. Jantar will keep the peace, so long as all parties are willing.”
“Well, my doors are always open if you should need to cement this in a treaty.” Queen Risha raised her glass. “You need only ask, Leo, Farin.”
Elena turned to her father, who had stayed oddly silent during this exchange. He nodded, raising his glass in response. “My daughter will soon bear the torch of this kingdom. I think your best efforts should be directed at her, Risha.”
“Of course, my apologies,” Risha said. She turned to Elena, but her smile was cold. “The new generation.”
She does not trust me, yet, Elena thought. She did not blame the older queen. She was the latest newcomer in the second continent, and the other rulers awaited to see how she would act on the global stage.
“I will surely call on you, Queen Risha,” Elena said. “You have been a great friend to my father, and I hope to continue that friendship.”
Risha nodded, her face a mask, as an attendant touched her elbow. “Ah, I must go. Excuse me.”
When she had left, Farin turned to Elena.
“I heard that the Arohassin took responsibility for the recent attack in the city.” He shook his head. “My condolences to you, Your Highness. To have an attack so close to your coronation. And the death of your Spear on top of that…”
He was trying to unnerve her, but the mention of Ferma twisted a dagger in Elena’s stomach. The pain was still too fresh, the grief too sharp. Farin smiled sympathetically, but it was small, thin. Anger rolled through Elena.You don’t deserve to speak of her.She wanted to take her wine and throw it at his face. But Elena only squeezed the stem of her glass, her smile tight.
“We will find the Arohassin agents responsible for the attack, I assure you,” she said.
“Show no mercy, young queen. They all deserve to be shot. Or burned, I suppose.” Farin laughed.
Elena thought of Yassen guiding her through the melee, his hand warm and firm in her own. Yassen, who had saved her. She had heard of Farin’s cruelty toward insurgents. He forgave no one, not even the smallest of informants. If he caught them, he dragged them to prison, tortured them, and then melted iron onto their heads until their skulls collapsed. Farin’s ancestor had done so to Elena’s many-times-great-grandfather during the Five Desert Wars. It was a point in history of which Leo had never failed to remind her.
“A heavy hand will only make them hate us more,” she said. “But if we turn them against each other, then”—she smiled—”they’ll rip each other apart.”
“Deception at its finest,” Farin said, but his smile did not reach his eyes. “She truly is yours, eh, Leo?”
A muscle worked in her father’s jaw. “Did you not do the same, Farin, with the Sesharians? Turned the three islands against each other—only to take them once they were weak?”
Beside her, Samson grew still. Farin glanced at Samson and then threw his arm around his shoulders.
“And they were better for it, weren’t they, Samson?”
There was a darkness in her fiancé’s eyes, but Samson nodded. “Without the Jantari, Seshar would have regressed into the past. Cut off from the world, from technology.”
It hurt her to hear him say it, but she knew it hurt Samson even more to stand there, a smile on his face, spewing lies while the man responsible hung his arm around his neck like a noose.
“See,” Farin said, metal eye swiveling, “we raised Seshar to higher standards. Now it has a proper navy, ha!”
Samson’s eyes met hers, and she saw the hate in them, so clear and unchecked. She walked forward, touched his hand.
