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I would sit the Shadow Throne or die trying, I told myself—that was all there was to it.
Stableforth followed me with a clatter of hooves, begging me to reconsider. But I refused to listen to him. I had magic now—strong magic—only I needed more. And only the Shadow Throne could give me the power it would take to stand up against my brother-murdering, husband-kidnapping, son-of-a-bastard cousin!
The sound of Stableforth’s hooves on the marble floors seemed to draw the attention of everyone else in the Palace. Soon there was a whole crowd of Palace folk—both nobles and servants—following us to the Throne Room.
It reminded me uncomfortably of Great Aunt Acosta’s fate. She, too, had marched to the Throne Room followed by the whole Court, determined to sit the Shadow Throne and she had been killed for her troubles. Who was to say I would be any different?
I say it, I told myself firmly. And all the prophesies in the stars and books say it too. I have magic now—I can do this! I will do this.
That was what I told myself all the way to the Throne Room. And yet, when I actually came to the dais the throne was mounted on, I felt my heart shrink within me.
The Shadow Throne was wreathed in darkness and the ruby whose lethal ray had killed Liath’s Aunt Acosta was likewise dark and silent. But I knew how quickly it could come to life and send a deadly beam of light directly through my skull. I knew how fast my life could come to an end.
And yet, I had to try.
On shaking legs, I climbed the steps of the dais until I stood before the throne. The lines of blood flowing through its carvings like veins seemed to beckon me and the Shadow Throne itself almost seemed to call to me.
Come…try your luck, I thought I heard it whisper. I may grant you unimaginable power…or I may kill you. You can’t know until you try.
“My Princess, please!” Stableforth had come to a stop directly before the throne with the rest of the Court gathered around him. “Please, I beg you not to do this!”
“I must,” I said.
I sat upon the same blood-red cushion where Great Aunt Acosta had so lately been killed and settled myself upon the Shadow Throne.
27
At first there was nothing but a low humming buzz that I felt more than heard. It was pure power, I realized—magic so deep and vast it was like an ocean just waiting to be tapped. If I could reach into that reservoir my own magic would be enhanced to limitless proportions. I would have enough to battle Asfaloth and Calista both—enough to rescue Liath and bring him home.
But the power had not been granted to me—not yet. I could feel the Shadow Throne weighing me—considering if I was worthy of this immense and limitless gift. If I was judged unworthy, I would be killed—summarily executed just as Great Aunt Acosta had been.
Suddenly the ruby behind me lit up. Don’t ask me how I knew—I was sitting with my back to it, after all. But I could see the glow of it in every courier and noble’s eyes—all of them staring at me and getting ready to scatter the moment the deadly beam pierced through my skull and shot out looking for new targets. The floor in front of the dais was still etched with deep grooves from Aunt Acosta’s attempt.
I tensed, my shoulders going tight and my stomach clenching like a slick fist. I would have liked to leap from the seat of the throne, but I felt as though invisible bands had closed around my arms and legs and I was being held in place.
I was about to die—I was sure of it.
I closed my eyes, not wanting to see the horror in my subjects’ faces when the Shadow Throne killed me…
But for some reason, the deadly beam of killing light didn’t come from the ruby embedded in the back of the throne. And the longer it didn’t come, the more I wondered what was going on. The throne had taken less than a minute to decide that Great Aunt Acosta wasn’t right for it—why was it taking so long deciding my fate?
At last there was a deep rumbling and I heard the same voice I had heard before Acosta met her fate. I was sure it would say either “Denied” or possibly, if I as very lucky, “Accepted.” But to my surprise, it said neither of these. Instead the deep voice of the Shadow Throne intoned,
“NOT YET.”
“Not yet? What does that mean?” I exclaimed, filled with a mixture of relief and disappointment. On one hand, the Shadow Throne had refused to lend me its power. Oh the other hand, I wasn’t dead with a smoking hole burned through my brain, which was most certainly a blessing.
