A chant began to echo through the crowd. Elena leaned forward to listen.
“Son of Fire, Son of Fire!”
She spotted the telltale gold caps, pushing their way to the front like a wave, their chant growing louder and louder. She spotted Jangir first, Varun grudgingly following on his heels. Though most of Ravence believed in the Phoenix, they believed in the Holy Bird with such ferocity that they would burn themselves to show their piety. Jangir and his followers shamed the nonbelievers, ridiculed the royal family’s skeptics, and threatened the ones who dared to speak of revolution.
Leo raised his hands, and the gold caps roared. Jangir turned, raising his hands as well, urging the crowd. More and more people began to take up the chant. Elena saw her father smile.
When the king lowered his hands, the crowd fell quiet. Leo was dressed in golden robes that shone despite the grey morning. He wore the crown, the Featherstone pulsing as if alive. Elena stood to his right, Samson to his left. She glanced at her fiancé and found him looking straight at her.
He winked. She felt a smile slip over her face in response.
“May the sun dawn upon our lands,” Leo said.
“And the fire burn within our hearts,” the crowd intoned.
Their collective voices lifted from the bottom of the hill with warmth, seeming to dispel the dark clouds.
“The time has come for a new queen to rise,” Leo said, and at this, the crowd gave another wild roar. Elena tried not to grimace.
“It is tradition that when the heir turns twenty-five, the old sun must set. He must dim his light for the new dawn,” Leo said, his voice amplified by the sensors surrounding them. “As a king, I cannot be more delighted. This heir is more radiant than our past monarchs.” He turned to Elena, and she bowed her head. “But as a father, I must tell you that there is something that your heir needs.”
A murmur went through the crowd.
“The sun governs above all. But the flaming sword will make us bow.” Leo raised both hands, beckoning for Elena and Samson to step forward. They did so at once. She could hear the crowd inhale sharply, feel their eyes narrow as they began to realize the meaning behind their king’s words.
“It is with the blessing of the Phoenix that I announce the engagement of our heir. Ravence, after so long, will once again know the power of both king and queen.”
The crowd erupted. Samson held out his arm, and after a moment’s pause, Elena took it. He raised their clasped hands, and the people cheered.
And then, suddenly, it was her turn to speak. Her stomach turned, a pit of stinging ants. Elena squeezed Samson’s hand. He squeezed hers back.
Gulping down her nerves, she stepped forward.
“My fellow Ravani,” she began, and she heard Leo start behind her. Royals traditionally began their speech by calling upon the heavens, not the people. She heard the crowd whisper nervously, confused by her greeting, but she forced herself to keep smiling.
“Yes, countrymen,” she said. She willed her voice to become steady. She could feel her father and Samson, her past and her future, watching her. “The people of Ravence create the beating heart of this kingdom. Your blood courses through its veins. I may be blessed with the fire of the Phoenix, but your passion stirs the winds of the desert.”
She stood taller, her chest warming.
“They say that it is the sovereign that leads a nation to enlightenment. This is true. As queen, I intend to lead us to great prosperity. But the people, the people of salt and sand, the ones who built Rani alongside Alabore Ravence, bring enlightenment to life. Without her people, Ravence is nothing. Without your faith, she is merely a dream in the desert.
“Every day, we are threatened by those who want to destroy this dream. Those who speak of revolution and a path without Agni,” she said, and somewhere within the crowd, a person booed. A gold cap yelled, and others stomped their feet in discontent.
Elena was no fool. She knew there were rebels here who despised her family, despised everything they stood for. Her eyes swept the crowd. One by one, the people quieted under the weight of her gaze. It was a trick she had learned from her father—to stretch out silence and use it to her advantage. When the murmur finally died, replaced now by a tight tension, Elena raised her chin.
“I know there are those of you who disagree with the throne and what it stands for. Those who believe this government has failed you, silenced you. But hear this—I welcome you.
“This kingdom will always serve its people first. As queen, I will protect you. As sovereign, I will lead you. But as a Ravani, as a daughter born of salt and sand, I will work beside you.
“My countrymen, we are the guardians of this kingdom. We are the defenders against the violent metalmen who seek the fire. Will we let them so easily dash our dream?”
“No!”
“Never!”
“Burn them all!”
Elena raised her hand and the crowd quieted. “Then defend this dream. Jantar, the Arohassin, they know little about the power of Ravence or her kindness. Where were the other kingdoms when the island refugees came to their doors? Who let them in? You, my countrymen. To the refugees gathered here today, know that you are always welcome in these deserts. And that we stand with you.”
