And you are one of them.
I know it will be difficult to stand aside and let your kingdom be destroyed. Ravence demands loyalty. Blood, above all else. But I pray you will see the light beneath this land—the light that lives in you.
Honor your fire. It is different from the rest. Hone it, love it, and when the time comes, when the Phoenix rises, it will show you the path through the desert.
Forgive me,
Mama
She read the letter again and again, mouthing the words until they ran together like a song in her mind.
Sin.
Sacrifice.
Destruction.
My whole kingdom, a lie.
She crumpled the letter, but then smoothed it out again and folded it back into a neat square. Jasmine had said that Aahnah had found something terrible, and Elena thought it had been the sacrifice. But if this was true, and Ravence was not built by Alabore and the Phoenix like the legends told… Elena felt dizzy.
Was this why the Phoenix had never listened to her prayers? Was She not Ravence’s true god?
Elena stared at the letter. She wanted to believe her mother, but there was a shaky slant to her mother’s handwriting, a discordance beneath her words. Aahnahhadlost touch with reality. Could this letter be no more than delusions?
She turned it over, searching for more clues, but there was nothing else. No further explanation, no peek into the past. Elena chewed her lip. Finally, she slipped the letter in her pocket and stood. She would show it to her father, after the coronation. He was already stressed with the attack and the preparations. Later, when they were alone, she would show him. Surely, he could make some sense of it.
Elena returned to the guest room as faint touches of dawn blushed the sky. Diya was waiting.
She slipped out of her robe, shivering as the cold morning air touched her flesh. She sat in the bathtub as Diya rubbed her with a paste made of haldi and sandalwood. She applied it using long banyan leaves that tickled Elena’s skin, but the heir sat still, as stoic as a dune on a winter night. She watched as her handmaid turned her skin into gold, and then washed her with cardamom milk and rose water. Diya squeezed a pea-sized drop of almond oil into her palm and ran it through Elena’s hair, buttering her curls until they shone. It was a ritual the reigning queen would perform on the queen-to-be. But Elena had no mother. She had no Ferma. Alone in the bathtub, her skin smelling like the desert, Elena only had herself.
After her bath, she dressed slowly, methodically, Diya helping her. Elena clipped on a large nath around her nose and ear. She donned a thick crimson-and-gold lehenga with a long circular skirt that dragged across the floor. She slipped on necklace after necklace until her neck was weighed down with the wealth of her kingdom. She lined her eyes with kohl like the warriors who defended her borders.
For the final touch, Diya wrapped a white silken belt threaded with pearls and gold around her waist. She stepped back and offered a tremulous smile.
Elena stared at her reflection.
She looked beautiful.
She looked terrifying.
The Burning Queen.
The door of her chambers opened, and Elena turned to see Samson, Yassen, and her other guards. Samson stepped inside.
“It is time, Your Highness,” he said. He smiled to her, and though she returned the smile, her gaze crawled to Yassen.
She saw how he stared, eyes widening, mouth slightly slack. When he met her eyes, she smiled wider. He hesitated, returned it.
She cast one last glance at herself in the mirror. This would be the last time she would stand here as Elena. AsonlyElena. The girl who loved to dance and roam the desert, to bicker and argue with her Yumi guard. When she returned, she would be queen of Ravence.
Elena turned, her bangles chiming softly. She palmed the letter and slipped it beneath her silk belt. “I am ready.”
Samson held out his hand, and she took it.
Samson, Yassen, and two guards carried an intricate velvet tapestry woven with gems of the desert. They held it up, each at a corner, and Elena stepped underneath it. Yassen remained behind her, and they began to walk.
The palace thrummed with excitement as servants placed the final touches: sprinkling fresh marigold petals in the hall, draping thick strands of jasmine and desert rose along the windows, scenting the air with incense sticks of sandalwood and lavender.
