Page 109 of Beyond the Shadowed Earth
But the girl shook her head. “I don’t know. The steward took down the Imperial flag a month ago. He ordered it burned.”
“Burned?”
“That’s all I know, Your Majesty. He didn’t say anything else.”
Eda gave her a bewildered nod. “I’ll go to Eddenahr. Find out for myself.” For an instant, she almost let the dark bird burst through her skin, but then she held it back. She had had enough of the sky.
She took a horse from the stable, and the serving girl brought her sandals, a change of clothes, and a pack of provisions for the journey. Eda found herself suddenly ravenous, and wolfed down half the contents of the pack. She swung up onto the horse, a young dappled gray gelding, and thanked the serving girl.
The girl watched her with wide eyes. “What will you do when you get to the capital?”
Power raged inside of her, sorrow curling black around her heart. “I don’t know.” She put her heels to the gray’s flanks and he sprang away, down the road to Eddenahr.
The horse was young and swift, but he had to stop to rest and eat, which forced Eda to stop as well. She hated it, regretting her decision to keep the bird caged inside. In her human form, she tired and hungered as well, but not as much or as often as before the sorrow had grafted itself onto her soul.
She arrived in Eddenahr early in the morning, four days after leaving Evalla.
The city was quiet, the sun pouring onto the cobbled streets and refracting off the whitewashed buildings. Eda followed the winding road up to the palace, ducking her head in an attempt to keep her face hidden.
Unease washed over her like a brittle wind. The banners that snapped from the palace roof and from the shops that crowded the street all bore the Enduenan crest. There wasn’t a single Imperial flag anywhere in sight.
What had happened here, while she was lost in the world of gods and stories?
She passed through the gates into the lower palace courtyard, handing off her mount to a stable boy with hardly a thought or even a glance. Her heart roared within her.
What had happened?
She paced up to the grand palace entrance, where over a year ago she had made the envoy from Denlahn wait in the pouring rain.
A single guard stood there, a spear in his hand, but he didn’t move to block her way, just gave her a bored glance. “You’re a little early for petitioning, Miss, but you can wait inside. An attendant will show you.”
“Petitioning?” Eda echoed.
“Petitioning the council. That is why you’re here, isn’t it? Every third week the delegates hear petitions.”
“Oh, of course. Certainly that’s why I’m here.” Eda plastered on her falsest smile. How could he not recognize her?
The guard waved her inside.
A young Enduenan boy wearing a red sash sprang up from around a corner. His lips were wet, crumbs clinging to them, as if he’d been having a quick snack on the job. He smelled faintly of cinnamon and honey. “This way.” He trotted off down the corridor Eda knew so well.
She felt like a ghost, wandering the palace, unknown and unseen. There were more people occupying each room than she was used to: a handful in the music room, playing on various instruments, another handful in the parlors and receiving rooms. All seemed to be dressed plainly, no distinguishing marks of jewels or rings.
The boy led her into the ballroom, which had been vastly redecorated since that night Ileem’s soldiers burst in: ancient Enduenan tapestries covered the walls, and the dais at the back of the room had been carpeted over in velvet and arranged with two couches and an ornately carved ivory bookcase. Eda blinked at the figure on one of the couches, a young Denlahn woman, her dark head bent over a book, a tiger lounging at her feet, half asleep.
“It’ll be a while yet, Miss,” said the boy, “but there will be tea soon.” And then he vanished back into the corridor.
The Denlahn woman on the dais lifted her head, and Eda knew her even though the breadth of the room stretched between them: Liahstorion.
It seemed Liahstorion knew her, too. She laid down her book. “Hello, Eda.”
Eda crossed the ballroom, lingering at the base of the dais, where she had so often sat with a crown on her head, looking out into a crowd of dancers. Liahstorion was dressed in the Enduenan style, wearing a loose pair of violet silk trousers, a cropped beaded top, and an airy gold sash. But it was the resemblance Liahstorion bore to her brother that made Eda’s throat close: those same fierce eyes, those same stark brows.
Power surged through Eda, straining against her skin, but she kept it in check. “What happened?”
The question hung echoing between them. Liahstorion rose from her seat, and took the two steps down from the dais to stand on even footing with Eda. The tiger rose as well, pressing against Liahstorion’s knee. They paced together out onto the open balcony.
Eda followed.
