I clap my hands over my mouth, shock freezing me in place. Dendera and Henn realize it at the same moment I do and their concern melts into the sad, hard set of truth.
I did to Nessa exactly what Sir did to me for years. What he did to everyone. How he tried to single-handedly accomplish the most insane tasks—raids to get the locket half, scouting new camps, meeting with potential allies. He wasalways alone, stoic and hard and removed from our lives until he desperately, unavoidably needed us. He tried to keep the weight of our failures on his own shoulders so we wouldn’t have to deal with the painful, wracking truth of what our lives were.
I hated him for it. We all did. I’d see Dendera exchange glances with Alysson or Finn snarl to Sir’s retreating back, and I knew everyone felt, on some level, the same maddening urge to shake Sir into realizing that wealreadyknew the dangers of our lives. If anything, his hesitancy to let us help dragged out the worst of it.
And I did the exact same thing. I tried to force a specific life on Nessa.
A guttural, scraping noise fills the bedroom, and Dendera’s eyebrows rise at me. It’s me—I’m laughing. I brace my hands over my mouth but I can’t stop it, insane giggles bubbling up my throat and erupting into my palms until I’m doubled over, unable to breathe through the absurd twist that I’ve become Sir.
I collapse on the floor, my stomach cramping. Everyone in the room just stares, which only makes me laugh harder.
Nessa kneels beside me, her anger fading to a slight tint of red on her neck. “Meira?”
I lower my hands, laughter fading under the sudden trembling of my pulse. “You called me Meira.”
She sighs, but her smile blinds me again, the kind that sends chill deep into my soul. “You’ve always been Meira,”she says like it’s the simplest thing in the world.
I shake my head as Dendera joins us, kneeling next to me on the floor.
“I tried not to be,” I say, the words coming before I can consider a response.
Dendera takes my hand, her face blank, waiting. “Why?”
Her question, or maybe the dream, or maybe just months of being consumed with fear, breaks me, and it all pours out, every reason I cling so tightly to Queen Meira.
“When I got the locket half and led Angra’s men straight to camp. When I fought marrying into Cordell even though it would’ve solved so much. When I barged into Noam’s office and risked destroying our one alliance. Even in the Abril camp, when I brought down the ramps, I could’ve killed my own people. Everything I did, every selfish act, was impetuous and risky and I hurteveryone.” Tears stream down my cheeks, hot, branding tears. “I was queen, all along, every moment of my life, and I could have helped everyone—but I didn’t. I was so selfish. I could have donemore, I could have—”
Saved everyone. I could have saved everyone in Winter, if Hannah had let Angra kill us both. But she didn’t—she sent me away. She couldn’t go through with it. She was weak, or maybe strong—I don’t know what, but she didn’t do it, and I’m just like her. I’m weak and scared and I try so hard, but it’s never enough.
No part of who I am is enough, so I tried to be someone else.
Dendera silences me with a hand on my cheek. “Youlisten to me, Meira Dynam. Yes, you have made mistakes, but I have watched you succumb to this role over the past few months, and that, I believe, is the biggest mistake you have made. The biggest mistake weallmade. We’ve all been afraid, and Meira, you look at me.You saved us.You, this beautiful, wild girl before me—yousaved us. So be you again, and whoever that is will be exactly what we need.”
Yousaved us.
Her words dangle before me, tempting, alluring. I haven’t thought that . . . ever. I’ve never let myself bask in the good I did, only the good Icould havedone.
But . . . I saved us.Isaved us.
I inhale, and this time, I feel it. This time, it rushes through me, life-giving and fresh and cool, filling me up with Dendera’s and Nessa’s certainty.
Dendera stands and moves to the trunk against the wall. Endless bolts of fabric sit within, some half-made articles of clothing, and she scrambles through it. When she pulls her hand out, the air I managed leaves my body in a gust that sends me scrambling to my feet.
My chakram in its holster, the great circular blade glinting sharp and polished, the handle worn smooth through the middle.
“My queen,” Dendera says as she passes it to me, bowing over the weapon.
I ease my fingers around the chakram, my hand curvinginto place in its natural stance, every muscle unwinding in a ripple of peace. I never should have been without it. This is me, whoever I am when I hold my chakram. Both the thoughtful, careful queen I’ve forced myself to be, and the wild, passionate girl who pushed her kingdom to teeter on the edge of defeat—but also snatched it back from that edge.
A warrior queen.
I can be both. Iwillbe both. I’m tired of fighting myself—I have far too many enemies, far too many obstacles, to spend so much energy wrestling myself into submission. I have far too few friends to alienate those closest to me. I need to start trusting them. And if they break . . .
We’ll just have to pick up the pieces together.
I lower my chakram to my side and turn to Nessa. “All right, I’ll explain everything. But first—” I exhale. “There’s someone else who needs to hear the truth too.”
UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE
