Chapter Two
TALIA PRACTICED HER SPEECH IN FRONT OFher dressing table mirror while her parrot chattered from its perch and the fountains laughed just below her window. Her eyes were hot and itchy from too many sleepless nights, and she gave up trying to hold onto the formal words she was expected to say in a little less than six hours.
She collapsed onto the floor and lay flat on her back, staringup at the white dome of her ceiling, at the curls of vines and blue orchids painted on the marble. A hot breeze blew through her balcony and she screwed her eyes tight.
Tonight, the Emperor would announce that Talia was his heir, and her life would never be the same again. Already she felt like she didn’t belong to herself—she’d been passed about between seamstresses and dance masters and anancient librarian who kept insisting she recite a passage from a dense religious text for the occasion. Her head had been measured for a crown. She’d been asked what she requested from the Emperor for a birthday present by a very stern steward. Talia had stammered something about a new saddle for her horse; the steward had blinked at her with amusement and said her father would supply her with anentire stable if she wished.
She still couldn’t think of the Emperor as her father. She didn’t think she ever would.
Tomorrow, she would move into the royal wing of the palace, into the prince’s old suite.
Tomorrow, she would be someone else: heir to half the known world.
“Talia Dahl-Saida,whatare you doing?”
She opened her eyes and jerked guiltily to a sitting position. Her friend AyahInoll stood there with her pale hands on her hips, curls of startling orange hair tumbling into her face. “Are you feeling sorry for yourself?”
Talia stood up and walked over to her parrot’s perch, stroking the bird’s bright feathers as she avoided her friend’s question.
“You’re not even dressed yet,” Ayah admonished.
“I wanted some time to myself. I sent the attendants away.”
“You are entirelytoo dramatic.”
Talia glanced back to see Ayah grinning at her.
“It’s not going to be that bad.”
Talia forced a smile, trying to ignore the wrench in her stomach. She’d promised her mother to keep her true identity hidden, even though every last servant seemed to know. “I have to give aspeech!”
Ayah grabbed her hands and spun her around in a circle. “Andbe presented to the court as an eligiblewoman, and eat mountains of food, and dance with every handsome man in Enduena. I don’t know what you’re worried about.”
“I might not get to see you as much.”
“Huen’s bones. Of course you will.”
Ayah’s oath made Talia smile in earnest—her friend’s religious inclinations made her curse all the more amusing. It wasn’t popular to believe in the gods anymore—religion had scarcely been practicedat all in the last half-century, and it was rare to even find a working temple these days. The Emperor frowned upon belief in the old gods, and most people only used them to swear by. But Ayah hailed from one of the Empire’s colonies on Od, where the old myths were more generally accepted, and she had apprenticed with a palace librarian. Od supposedly had the greatest university in the world, butEddenahr still boasted the best library—even though, according to Ayah, they were still trying to recover texts lost in a fire several centuries back. Talia didn’t like the library. It was huge and oppressively ancient and too easy to get lost in. If she believed in ghosts—which she didn’t—she was sure that’s where they would all live. Ayah was always nagging her to go in there anyway, quoting fromher dusty religious books and trying to convince her that the gods were as real as the palace stones. Talia liked to tease her that if the gods did exist, it was awfully cruel of them to have made her hair so veryorange.
“What would I do without you, Ay?”
Ayah grinned again. “Allow yourself to be very miserable. Now come on, I’ll help you get dressed.”
Talia showed her the gown that had arrivedthat morning from the seamstress, and had to laugh as Ayah punched her in the shoulder and cursed again. “What on gods’ green Endahr are you miserable about, you ridiculous mongoose? Arriving at your coming-of-age ball dressed like a goddess?”
The gownwasbeautiful. It was a delicate yellow silk so pale it looked like starlight, and its accompanying air-light sash was sewn with gold thread andglints of diamonds.
“We don’t do anything for coming-of-age in Od,” said Ayah wistfully.
“What do you miss most?” This was a question Talia had asked frequently, ever since she’d found a very homesick Ayah sobbing in the corridor outside the library four years ago. It seemed to help Ayah to talk about Od, and Talia loved hearing her stories. Sometimes Talia imagined visiting her friend’s homeland,but it was hard to wish to be somewhere else when she already lived in one of the wonders of the world, “the Jewel of Endahr.”Endahrwas an ancient word that meant “the earth,” and Eddenahr’s name was derived from it, which seemed appropriate to Talia. Eddenahr really did seem like it contained the whole world.
“The forests,” said Ayah. “Starlight through the trees. Winter.”
Talia slipped intothe yellow gown, and Ayah started fastening the back. “We have winter in northern Irsa.”
“Not like in Od. Snow so high you can’t leave your cottage for days. Cold so sharp you feel it in your bones.”
“Sounds miserable.”
