Jocasta glances at the upturned table with its irreparably cracked central board. Her dark hair reflects the morning sunbeams streaming through the open window as she approaches what’s left of the bed and then gives the ruined mattress a good whack. Her whole body jars from the impact. She hauls the sword up again and then thumps it back down harder. This time, the blade sticks in the splintered bed frame. By the time she wrestles it out of the wood, she’s panting and half her curls have slipped from their pins.
She shoves her almost blue-black hair out of her face. “That was annoying.”
I shrug. “Sometimes that happens in bone.”
Revulsion crosses her face, but instead of setting down the sword, she strikes the bed again like she has something to prove. She keeps going, avoiding what’s left of the frame. Stuffing erupts from the torn-up mattress, and feathers catch in her hair, giving her a savage appearance. With her bright sapphire eyes, flushed face, and a sword in her hand, she looks like a force to be reckoned with.
Since Griffin turned all our chairs into firewood, I stand there, watching, with my arms crossed. “What are you upset about?” I ask.
Jocasta takes a few deep breaths and then props the sword against the wall. “I’m not upset, exactly. I’m restless. The north wall is nearly fixed, and the children don’t especially need my limited expertise in construction to finish the job. The pages have all settled into their roles in the castle. I don’t have any groundbreaking ideas for improvements to the realm. The new healing centers and schools are Egeria’s projects, and she doesn’t need or really even want my help, although I keep offering.” She brushes goose down from the front of her dress, her mouth thinning.
“You’re bored.” I get that. If I weren’t so in love, which is completely new to me, I’d probably be bored, too. As it is, I’m tired of being confined to the castle grounds. I’m used to living mostly out in the open and traveling with the circus. Sometimes, these walls feel like they’re closing in on me.
Jocasta sighs. “Piers is busy recruiting new soldiers, and that’s not exactly my domain anyway. Carver has responsibilities that Griffin trusts him with. You have Beta Team. Father reads or sleeps most of the day. Mother concocts herbal sludge that I can already recite the recipes for forward and backward and use to heal most of the usual ailments. Kaia has her tutor—who’s an old goat, by the way—but besides a few adjustments to court life, I’ve already had my schooling and don’t need to sit in on lessons.” She eyes my sword like she wants to start bashing things again. “I have nothing to do.”
“Life is different for you now. As a younger sibling in a royal house, you have no real role. And even less freedom.”
She chews on her lower lip, looking annoyed. “I used to be able to go places by myself. Ride a horse. Talk to people. Help them because they knew me and came to me and respected me. Now I’m stuck behind these walls where no one really needs me.”
“There are days I feel trapped, too,” I say. “But there are worse prisons than this.”
“Yes, but everyone needs you. Especially Griffin.” Scowling, Jocasta kicks a piece of wood across the room—debris from Griffin’s rampage. “Sintans should see their new royals. They were nothing but welcoming on our way north last spring. I asked if I could travel the realm, with a large guard, of course, but Griffin won’t let me. He says it’s too dangerous.”
“He’s right.”
Her eyes flash a fierce blue. “You, too? I thought you’d understand.”
“I do understand. But the realms are entering into a Power Bid now. Fisa is a shadow over us all. Tarvan snakes are rattling their tails. They’ve attacked us twice, and the last time Griffin nearly died. What do you think they’d do if they got their hands on you?”
Jocasta doesn’t answer.
In her silence, I answer for her. “They’d tear apart everyone you love as they came for you, and then they’d tear you apart, too.”
“Then I should learn to defend myself!” She starts pacing, her fluid prowling reminding me of a certain Sintan warlord I know. “Teach me to fight, Cat. Make me less of a liability. Then maybe I can have some freedom.”
I doubt it. Overprotective is Griffin’s middle name. “I’m better with knives. I can teach you to stab and throw, but someone else should train you with a sword. Carver’s the best out of everyone.”
She huffs a laugh that’s entirely without humor. “Carver thinks his sisters should be wrapped in glass and perched on pedestals. He’ll never agree.”
And here I thought Carver was less overbearing than Griffin. “What about Flynn?”
Jocasta stops mid-step and turns crimson. “We hardly speak anymore. I don’t think he even looks at me.”
“Oh, he looks. He just doesn’t want to.”
Her flush deepens. “You really think so? Why not?”
“Because you’re Griffin’s sister. And Carver’s sister. And a Sintan princess now.” I could probably go on, but I don’t want to depress her.
“He’s the highest-ranking soldier we have. He’s been with us forever. He’s not exactly a nobody!”
“You’re right. And he’s more than old enough to settle down. He’s responsible and even-tempered. I’m fairly certain he wants a family. He’s perfect for you.”
Looking even more annoyed, Jocasta resumes her pacing. I realize too late I should have let her argue her case. It might have eased some of her frustration.
Someone knocks. Jocasta is closer and yanks open the door. Flynn is on the other side, dwarfing the doorway with his size. They both go stock-still, their eyes simultaneously widening. Mine do, too. I’ve only seen Flynn in the royal wing once before, the morning he burst into this same room with Eneas in tow, the healer who saved me after Daphne’s attack.
Flynn unfreezes first and reaches out, removing a downy white feather from Jocasta’s jet-black hair. He starts to hand it to her but then drops his arm, folding the feather into his large hand.
Jocasta throws her shoulders back, her color rising again fast. It’s nearly a match for Flynn’s shock of auburn hair. “Flynn.”
“Jo.” Flynn clears his throat. “Jocasta.”
Her eyes narrow. “You can still call me Jo.”
He looks at her for a moment and then frowns. “Your hair is a mess.”
Her eyebrows wing up her forehead. “That’s how you start our first conversation in months?”
Panic flits through Flynn’s brown eyes. He looks like he’s fallen into quicksand and doesn’t know how to get out. He scratches the back of his neck, his face turning a ruddy color. “It’s only… I just thought something might be wrong.”
“Did you?” Jocasta crosses her arms, the movement thrusting her breasts up and revealing a good deal of skin at the neckline of her low-cut gown. Flynn tries so hard not to notice. Poor Flynn.
“Did you need something?” I ask.
He looks at me like I’m his savior. I’m getting that a lot lately. I hate it. Don’t these people know I’m doomed, and that I’m going to doom everyone along with me?
I guess not. Because I haven’t told them.
“Helen is leaving,” Flynn says.
“What? She just gave birth.”
“She says she can travel, and she looks like Zeus is chasing her with a thunderbolt. The woman is scared.”
Of me, of course. Either she thinks I’ll accuse her of my near-death—because, obviously, if someone tries to kill me, it must be family—or she knows her husband outed me to Griffin, and she’s afraid I’ll retaliate.
“Griffin is stalling your cousin and her family in the courtyard.”
I swallow, suddenly nervous. “He told you, then?” If Flynn knows Helen Fisa is my cousin, he knows.
Flynn grins, surprising me. “I knew you were holding out on us. Knowing you, it had to be something momentous.” He claps me on the shoulde
r, nearly sending me flying. “Glad you didn’t disappoint.”
Relief unties the knot of worry inside me, leaving me feeling absurdly emotional. “Tell Griffin I’ll be right there.”
Flynn nods. To Jocasta he says, “Jo.”
“Flynn,” she answers coolly.
He shuts the door, and she turns to me, dropping her crossed arms. “Well, that wasn’t awkward at all.”
I shake my head. “Not at all.”
“He’ll hate me now. I was awful.”
“It’ll take more than that for Flynn to hate a person he’s known nearly his whole life. Besides,” I say, thinking about how I treated Griffin for weeks, “men like a little awful. It keeps them on their toes.”
She frowns. “You think so?”
What do I know? I’m a disaster at relationships. “Don’t listen to me. Kaia would probably give better advice.”
Jocasta laughs. Then sighs. Then looks at the door.
I stop with my hand poised over the doorknob, glancing back at her. “I guess you know, too?”
Her chin notches up as she shifts her focus back to me. “Of course. All the family knows. Beta Fisa. My Gods.” She shakes her head. “Griffin wouldn’t keep something like that from us. Besides, he couldn’t have. When you disappeared, he looked like he’d been trampled by a herd of Centaurs and then sat on by a Cyclops. I’ve never seen anything like it. He was destroyed.” Her blue eyes harden as she adds, “It’s a good thing you didn’t really run away. I would have had to find you.”
* * *
It takes a direct order from Egeria, Alpha Sinta, to get Helen out of her carriage. I watch from the shaded terrace overlooking the woods. If I’d known it was going to be this much trouble to talk to Helen, I would have just let her go.
Helen leaves her infant boy with her husband and his parents. I’m not a fountain of experience in the matter, but I don’t think a woman leaves her newborn unless she thinks the child is safer without her. Once Helen finally starts toward me, she walks with her spine straight and her head high. As she should. She’s Zeta Fisa. After me, only three people separate her from the most powerful throne in the realms. And to think, I started out with seven siblings and she with four.
A team of dark horses prances, impatient. Oreste steps down from the carriage, leaving the door open and the baby inside. Preparing for a speedy escape?
I study him as Helen approaches, curious since his family intended him for me. Despite being the most influential and ancient dynasty in Sinta, Andromeda saw them as pretentious pond scum, and no amount of gold could tempt her to send me to them. What must have been a number of years later, they settled for Helen, but as Oreste seems to have guessed, he lucked out. I’m no prize.
He’s older, with a head of thick, graying hair, wide shoulders, and an athletic frame, despite being nearly fifty by now. He was in his mid-thirties when his family tried to buy me thirteen years ago. I was ten, and I was more petrified of staying in my own home than of being sent off to marry an adult Magoi in a far-off realm. They would have held off on the actual wedding for a few years. Despite what Mother likes to think, Sintans aren’t child-marrying barbarians. And I’d wanted to go. Oreste would have been my escape.
From a distance, I watch grandparents I have no doubt are ruthless and ambitious coo over Helen’s baby through the open door of the carriage. I don’t need Oreste or his family, but a familiar tightness grips my chest nevertheless. If I’d been allowed to go to them, I’d have less blood on my hands, and Eleni might still be alive.
Helen stops in front of me and offers a small curtsy. “Talia.”
I don’t curtsy back, even though in Sinta and without my publicly claiming my title, she technically outranks me. Neither of us thinks like that. Once a Fisan, always a Fisan. I wonder if her new Sintan kin offered for my younger sister Ianthe before moving on to Helen. If they did, it happened after I ran away, or else Andromeda never told me. Mother doesn’t exactly share.
“You didn’t bring the baby.” I glance over her shoulder toward the courtyard. “I wanted to see him. He’s family, after all.”
Helen pales, and I want to kick myself. Family is a curse word where we come from.
She steps to the left, blocking my view of the carriage. “My power has grown. I have Elemental Magic you would envy.”
Clearly she’s not afraid of a confrontation. It must be hormones. And I do envy Elemental Magic. I can absorb those powers and then use them until they run out, but permanently possessing a magical form of even one of the four elements would be a huge advantage—one I’m often without.
“I killed Sybaris and stole her Dragon’s Breath. Don’t threaten me.”
Helen’s face goes from white to ghastly white. “My baby is innocent.”
“Good Gods, Helen, I’m not going to hurt your son. You had nothing to do with my getting stabbed. Believe me, that was entirely my own fault. I should have taken care of a threat weeks ago, and I didn’t.” Because I’m in love, and happy, and going incredibly soft. “And your husband inadvertently telling Beta Sinta who I am wasn’t your fault, either. If I understand correctly, you were busy giving birth at the time.”
If I didn’t know her, I probably wouldn’t see the new influx of anxiety sharpening her already angular features. “Oreste has no idea who you really are. I kept your secret.”
I like Helen. I always have. She’s protective and paranoid, like me. “I know. I believe you. We were friends before.” Sort of. We never tried to kill each other. “I’d like to be friends again. I’d like our families to be friends.”
Helen stares at me, her expression not giving much away. “Families?”
The word just slipped out. No taking it back now. Rather than backpedal like a fool, I hold out my hand and show her the large, square emerald flashing on my finger. “I’m betrothed to Beta Sinta.” Not that I’m telling Griffin that.
Helen’s jaw slackens, her reaction more marked this time. “He’s a southern Sintan Hoi Polloi. You have ichor in your veins. Olympian blood. Titan blood. He’s so far beneath you, you’ll have to squint to see him.”
I shake my head. “He’s so far above me, I’ll get a neck ache looking up to him.”
Helen looks at me oddly, like I just stripped down to muscle and bone and donned a new skin—one she likes much better. She glances toward the carriage. Her baby started crying, and Oreste takes the boy from his mother, Urania, and rocks him. There’s something innately shielding and tender in the curve of his body as he tucks the infant against his chest.
“He adores you, doesn’t he?” I ask. “You’re safe.”
Helen turns back to me, and I see her swallow. “I always wanted you to be happy. You and Eleni.”
“Eleni never got the chance.” I can’t keep the bitterness from my voice. And, apparently, the guilt.
My cousin reaches out and grips my wrist. Despite growing up in the same household, I think it’s the first time we’ve touched. “It wasn’t your fault.”
I shrug. My next breath leaves me empty. “Maybe not, but there are infinite things a person can do differently in the space of just a few seconds.”
Helen nods. She knows that, too.
“Go,” I urge when the baby’s cries turn into wails. “He’s probably hungry.”
Helen looks over again but doesn’t move. “What are you doing, Talia? You’re a queen, not a Beta’s wife. Is this really where you belong?”
I laugh softly. “You should have seen what I was doing before.” Soothsaying at a circus, dressed like a brigand, living in a tent. It was fabulous. Free. “Also, I’m only a queen when Mother dies, and Andromeda isn’t going anywhere. Unfortunately.”
We both grimace. It’s involuntary. Simultaneous. Then Helen’s eyes stray toward the courtyard again, small grooves forming beside her mouth.
“What is it?” I ask.
/>
“Tarvans,” she answers. “They’re up to something.”
“Aren’t they always?”
“It’s just…” She frowns, much of her attention on her baby. “They’re going about it wrong.”
I cant my head. “What do you mean?”
“Beta Sinta started the Power Bid. Delta Tarva has always been ambitious—serpent charmers often are. She should be making her play for the Tarvan throne. Besides that one murderous blast to northern Kitros, no one ever sees Alpha Tarva using his magic. Maybe he can’t control it. Maybe it comes and goes. And his children are still young, with immature powers. But instead of attacking her brother and his kids, Delta Tarva is sending out discreet delegations to visit Sintan nobles. One came to our house, talking about alliances and coveted positions at court. It would appear she’s trying to gain support and undermine the new Sintan royals from within.”
“And you heard this conversation yourself?” I ask sharply.
She nods. “Three men came to speak to Agatone and Urania. As their heir, Oreste was included in the conversation. I was left out.”
“But you listened at the door?”
“Naturally.” Helen slants me an arch look. “They gave no answer for Delta Tarva at the time, and after the recent realm dinner, I think your Beta Sinta has seduced them with the strength of his ideas. Alpha Sinta was a surprise, too. They have plans.” She snorts, a surprised sound rather than derisive. “Any but the most idiotic and prejudiced of Magoi will see that these are good moves. Things that will help bring Sinta out from under the shadow of the other realms.”
“Did we derail Delta Tarva’s efforts?” I ask.
Helen shrugs. “Fundamentally, we’re all crafted from our own land—made from the dust, and ice, and magic. I may live in Sinta now, and prefer my life here, but I am Fisan. I will always be Fisan. Acantha Tarva will always be Tarvan. I doubt Sintan Magoi would ever truly accept her as their Alpha, and Sintan Hoi Polloi would hate it.”
I press my lips together. Herein lies a problem for us, as well. If we succeed in reuniting the realms, will the people across Thalyria accept Griffin and me as their Alphas? At least between us, we’ve got two of the three kingdoms covered.
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