“The Immortal one’s gifts.”
Elena nodded. The high priestess was nearly as old as her father, if not older. Wrinkles crept around her eyes, but her skin was otherwise smooth and unblemished, her brown eyes clear and full of serenity. There was something surreal about her, superficial even—at times it made Elena uneasy. She accepted the gift, and the high priestess bowed and descended into the chamber below.
Once they were alone, King Leo sank down to his knees before the dais steps. Elena followed suit, and together they gazed into the Eternal Fire. Heat scraped against her face, and though Elena felt ash tickle her throat, she could not deny the fire’s beauty. It was mesmerizing, how the flames danced. How they soared and touched the feet of the Phoenix like loving, devoted servants. Fire knew when to destroy. It also knew how to love.
“I was surprised to hear that you went to the rally,” Leo said. “I thought you hated the gold caps.”
“I don’t hate them,” she lied. “I just don’t agree with their… methods. But I thought it was time to finally try to understand why you find them sonecessaryfor our rule.”
“Every ruler needs a group of stalwart supporters, even if most are fools.” He dusted ash from his sleeve. “They keep your enemies in check. After all, the voice of a dissenter will always be drowned out by a mob—”
“—so you learn to control the mob,” Elena said in time with Leo. He smiled. Her father had said this to her for as long as she could remember.
Control the people, Elena. Tell them how they should think. Learn when to grant or withhold their wishes.
The problem was, she did not, could not, view people like Ferma or even Jangir as spineless puppets, mouthpieces to disseminate the stories she saw fit when she saw fit. Perhaps that was why she could not withstand the inferno. She could not find the same cruelty of its heat inside of her.
“Well, what did you think about the meeting?” her father asked, looking at her expectantly.
“Illuminating,” she said. Hope glimmered in his eyes, and for a moment, Elena’s chest clenched.
If Varun ousted Jangir and fought for control of the gold caps, the group could collapse on itself. Elena would make sure of it. Others would sense power and jump at the opportunity. And her father would watch his beloved supporters destroy themselves, like snakes in a pit.
She should feel nervous, anxious, elated, and yet… and yet guilt nagged at her, souring her hopes. Leo smiled, and Elena could not meet his eyes. She turned back to the fire as it hissed below her feet.
I am only helping us, she thought. The Phoenix King, the title of the throne, was her birthright just as much as it had been his. But how could she assume the throne if he and his people were still controlling it? If her own people thought she was another spineless puppet?
Leo had allowed the gold caps to grow too powerful, too proud. And she had watched, silent and powerless against her father.
She’s a puppet just like the rest, Eshaant had said.
He saw her as a complacent bystander, and Elena knew others did too.
“There’s some news I want to share with you,” Leo said. A fine layer of soot lined his saffron-colored kurta and white shawl. Her mother’s necklace, a golden chain with a bird pendant crafted from jade and purple desertstone, hung around his neck. It alone was without a single speck of ash. “The Arohassin attacked a sand port in Rasbakan.”
She breathed in sharply. The Arohassin were an ideological criminal organization bent on destroying kingdoms in the name of a new world order, an order of governments created by the people and not kings. But Elena had seen the work of the Arohassin. They claimed freedom and brought anarchy. They quoted martyrs and spawned more in their wake. What good was their liberation if it only led to ash and ruin?
“Do you think that’s somehow connected to the skirmishes with the Jantari on our southern border?” she asked.
“Perhaps, but Farin is too proud to hire someone to do his dirty work,” Leo mused. “I believe the Arohassin acted on their own.”
“Splendid. So now we have storms in our eastandsouth.” She shook her head, her voice fierce and low. “But the Jantari are our bigger concern, Father. We’re not ready for war. At the rally, the people were telling each other to enlist but—”
“As they should. We need new recruits to bolster our forces—”
“But these people know nothing about fighting. Do you want me to start my reign with a war that could debilitate our country? We’re better off negotiating for peace with Farin—”
“We can handle the Jantari,” Leo said, and there was an edge in his voice, one Elena knew better than to challenge. She sat back, hands clenching her knees.
“It’s the Arohassin I worry about,” Leo continued. “I ought to cut off their heads, but I found something better.” He paused, watching a shower of sparks fall from the fire. “I made a deal with Samson Kytuu. He’ll strengthen our forces against the Jantari in the south and use his intelligence to root out the Arohassin.”
“Samson Kytuu?” She had heard about the Sesharian militant; they all had. Born under Jantari colonial rule in Seshar, he had escaped indentured servitude and joined the Arohassin, only to escape and sell their secrets to the Jantari army. He had risen quickly through the ranks and found favor with the king, so much so that Farin had allowed Samson to lead a small mercenary band of Sesharians known as the Black Scales. Why that horrid name, Elena did not know, but she did know that when the Black Scales entered the fight, they never lost.
“Samson Kytuu is under Farin’s thumb. His allegiance is to the Jantari. Why would he want to help us? What does he want?”
Her father looked at her knowingly with his stark grey eyes, the ones she had not inherited. She understood the answer before he spoke, and it was as if all the air was sucked out of the room and into the roaring flames.
Shadows of light and smoke passed across Leo’s face.
