“Duties?” said Taryel, coming to stand alongside the lord. Side by side they were a stormy sky and a bright spring morning, utter opposites in every way except for the shared, contemptuous glances.
“She’s expected to make a proclamation,” said Lord D’Luc, glaring up at the taller, darker man.
“A proclamation?” Taryel said with incredulity. “She doesn’t even know what’s—”
“I mightknow what,” Ru interrupted, “if someone took the time to speak to me directly.”
Taryel met her gaze coolly. “You won’t be proclaiming anything, Ru. Lady Bellenet changed her mind.”
“I hadn’t heard…” Lord D’Luc said.
“That’s because you’re unimportant,” Taryel said, tossing the lord a cheerful smile. “I am Taryel Aharis, the chosen avatar of Festra’s will. Am I not?” He took Ru’s shoulder then, guiding her toward another door on the far side of the room. “Ignore him,” he muttered, just for Ru. “He’s—”
“It’stime,” Lord D’Luc said from behind them.
“Right,” said Taryel, stopping Ru before they came to the door and spinning her to face him. “Listen. There’s going to be a lot of rhetoric out there in a moment. Even if you hate it, go along with it. Don’t try to fight this, Ru.”
As Taryel spoke, a subtle warmth swaddled Ru’s heart — the artifact. No, Taryel, trying to calm her. To make her pliant, no doubt. She hated that it worked, that her breathing slowed, that she relaxed ever so slightly.
“Go,” Lord D’Luc ordered.
Taryel flung open the door and ushered Ru through before following in her wake. For a moment, she stood stock still, her body a jangle of nerves even with Taryel’s soothing touch. It was shadowy where they stood, dark after the brightly lit parlor.
“Stop panicking,” Taryel said. “You’re perfectly safe.”
Ru jerked her shoulder out of his grasp. “Safeis a relative term.”
But it wasn’t physical danger Ru was worried about just then. It was eyes on her, the unknown; her tongue was dry and lead-heavy in her mouth.
A heavy curtain hung before them. So close, in fact, that Ru’s nose almost touched it. She could hear voices, the low murmur of the crowd in the throne room, the swish of fans against sweaty faces. The regent’s muffled voice carried over everything. Ru realized with a start that she was on the dais at the head of the throne room. And this curtain, she now saw, was one of the great crimson banners that hung behind the thrones.
Taryel took her hand for a moment, squeezed it tightly, then said, “She’s just about to announce you. Go.”
Ru hesitated. But even as she stood frozen, her feet refusing to move, her heart slamming against her ribs, the hazy warmth in her chest began to spread. It started in her chest, slowing the beat of her heart. It extended outward to her arms, her hands, further relaxing her tension. It spoke to her in wordless currents, a caress of energy that brought her back to herself, moment by moment.
Ru’s shoulders relaxed, her jaw loosened, and she could breathe again. She could almost feel Taryel’s self-satisfied smirk beside her. He had done his work.
Before the effect could fade, she strode around the banner and onto the bright dais.
“May I present to you,” said Regent Sigrun’s resonant voice, “Ruellian Delara, Keeper of His Heart.”
Cheers and wild applause filled the room. Ru saw smiles and laughter, drinks being lifted in toasts, fans fluttering against the heat of that packed room.
“Taryel!” some of the courtiers cried out. “Bring him out!”
Ru thought she heard Festra’s name, too. The court of Navenie was well and truly taken in by this madness.
Standing there in silence, the shining eyes of countless courtiers staring up at her, was worse than speaking at a Tower deliberation. Far worse. Ru stood just to the right of the largest throne, which appeared to be empty. This was the late king’s throne, which Regent Sigrun had the right to occupy but she chose not to. She sat instead to the left of it, in a smaller, yet no less imposing, throne. Ru glanced sideways and saw the regent’s usual plumed hat, her shining black leather boots.
But unlike the last time Ru had been in the throne room, there was an additional figure on the dais. Lady Bellenet stood to the Regent’s left, mirroring Ru, and practically oozing celestial beauty. She wore a coronet of gold that looked like a sun rising from her hair.
The silence carried on for just a moment too long. And because Ru was more afraid of being at the center of awkwardness than at the center of attention, she said, “Hello.”
Her voice was painfully small in that cavernous room.
Then, “Hello!” came the enthusiastic reply, sung from the lips of a roomful of courtiers.
It was then that Ru noticed, scattered about the room, some in groups and others hugging the sidelines, the Children. She hadn’t seen many of them since arriving at the palace, other than Inda, Ranto, and Nell. But there were at least three dozen here in the throne room, watching Ru with hollow expressions.
