Page 71 of Crown of the Dunes

“I’ll always be angry for what they did to you. Too angry,” I said, surprising vehemence cutting through the relaxed haze.

A long silence stretched, and I thought Erix had let the thread of conversation drop. I burrowed closer, breathing in the salt and leather scent that clung to him, not minding the quiet. Closeness was the language we spoke best anyway. A comforting darkness enveloped me.

“I like you angry.”

The words were murmured into the top of my head, more whispered vibrations than anything else, but I heard them, nonetheless. I smiled as sleep took me, more comfortable than I had been in weeks.

My eyes opened to the dim purple light of the moments just before dawn. I jolted at the silhouette of a man standing over my bed but settled immediately at the familiar twinge of wild magic that twitched in my belly in response.

“Erix?” I asked sleepily.

“I didn’t mean to wake you,” he murmured. “I wanted to climb down before it got fully light. It makes it easier not to be spotted.”

Disappointment landed like a weight in my heart, but I nodded. I couldn’t make out his face in the dark, but the light tread of his boots told me he walked toward the balcony doors.

“Come back tonight?” I asked the open darkness.

Silence stretched, and I wondered if he had already left.

“Of course.”

A rustle of cloth and a soft grunt marked him lowering himself over the edge of the balcony. I rolled onto my back and sighed, knowing that I would be getting no more sleep before another long day.

The wood of the throne was uncomfortably rigid beneath me, and my muscles itched with the urge to reposition once more. I fought against it, telling myself that if I could sit comfortably on Daiti for days on end, I could manage a few hours in a hard chair.

Even more uncomfortable than the chair was the weight of dozens of gazes on me, brushing over my skin like a physical touch. Like incidental contact still sometimes did, but it made me want to flinch.

Instead, I held still, biting the inside of my cheek as Torin, the Archon of Trade, beckoned the next petitioner forward. I tried to force a smile on my face as I greeted the woman, but I only managed a slight spasm.

The woman shrunk in on herself with a look of concern on her face, telling me I had not succeeded in putting on a welcoming expression.

“What help can I offer you today?” I asked.

At least this part felt genuine. I hated sitting on the throne that I had never even seen Queen Ginevra use. I had pledged myself to Kelvadan out of a desire to serve—to earn the sense of belonging that I hungered for so deeply it was a physical sensation. This part of being a leader allowed me to at least fulfill that pledge when I seemed to struggle with most others.

“I seek a job in the palace,” the woman said, looking at her feet.

I tried to catch her gaze, but she wouldn’t look up. A heaviness settled into my ribcage at another petitioner who seemed uncomfortable in my presence.

“Why?” I asked, curious.

She chewed her lip, eyes drifting up to my feet but refusing to look any higher. The quiet stretched, and somebody in the hall cleared their throat. I shook myself. It was an impertinent question to ask in front of an audience, and it wasn’t a difficult request to grant, whatever the reason.

I opened my mouth to spare her from answering.

“My husband is not a good man.” The words tumbled out of her, as if she wanted to cut me off before I could refuse her. “I want to leave, but I need a place to go.”

I pulled a sharp breath in between my teeth and lifted my chin. In the clans, if a wife or a husband wished to separate, they would simply grab another tent from the clan’s supplies and begin sleeping elsewhere. Or they could just lay their sleeping mat out next to one of the communal fires. This was yet another one of the complexities of living in a city made of stone, where everybody had assigned, stationary dwellings, that still seemed odd to me.

“You’re welcome at the palace,” I announced with a nod. Anybody should be able to search for a home where they felt safe and welcome.

A shuffling sound marked one of the archons, stationed just behind me, approaching. I stifled a sigh, looking up to find Malachi, the Archon of Coin, leaning in.

“It would take me time to find her a position here,” he started.

My teeth creaked as I gritted them to avoid snarling. What was the point in being a queen if every action I took to aid the people of Kelvadan was faced with caveats and arguments?

“What’s your name?” I asked the woman, ignoring Malachi. If I gave him my attention, I might say something that would get me into trouble.