The ishru all dropped to their hands and knees, and I jumped from the bed as Calix towered over one. “Calix,” I told him, coming by his side. “I told them not to. I don’t like it.”
“Don’t like it?” he demanded.
“Yes,” I said. “I don’t want them bowing to me. I don’t want you making people humble themselves before me.”
He squared his shoulders off against mine. “And what would happen if the Concilium saw that a slave no longer needed to bow to a queen? Or to my other vestai? I was crowned king as a child, Shalia, and they will always see me as a child. I can barely retain the respect that I have clawed from them, and it sounds foolish and small, but something so simple as a slave failing to show proper deference could threaten my position as king. And your new attendant will be watching you always, ready to report these infractions to her father. How the Thessalys would relish hearing that a slave doesn’t bow to a king.” He shook his head. “Ruling cannot be about emotion, my sweet. It has to be about power and control. Always.”
“True power does not force others to make themselves smaller,” I told him.
Anger simmered in his eyes. “No, wife. You’re wrong.”
My eyes met his. How could he truly believe that?
“Apologize to me for your foolishness.”
My mouth opened in shock. “It’s what I believe, Calix,” I told him.
He stepped closer to me, and I stepped back. “You are my wife. You will believe what I tell you to believe. Apologize.”
My eyes burned. “Calix,” I said, shaking my head.
He stepped forward, and as I stepped back again, there was a sick feeling inside me I recognized as fear. He didn’t just want his people afraid—he wanted me afraid. And I was. “I’m sorry,” I whispered.
“For what?” he demanded.
“For my foolishness,” I said.
He nodded once, leaning his head closer to mine. “So you see,” he murmured. “That is power.”
The ishru dressed me, and when I was done, Calix was waiting in the chamber, straightening his own clothes as he dismissed the servants. “Lovely,” he said, his eyes brushing over me. “You are right, wife. We must look to the children of this nation, first and always. I would like you to go to the Erudium today and allay their fears. Coddle the children and convince them that they were right to be afraid, but we will protect them. Tell them to tell their praeceptae and parents if they see sorcery.” He shook his head. “No—tell them that only with their help can we protect them.” He nodded, a smug smile on his face.
“What is the Erudium?” I asked.
“A temple of learning,” he told me. “Where our young men are educated and our young women are groomed.”
“Groomed,” I repeated.
“Yes,” he said. “Taught in the arts that will serve them as wives and mothers. Sewing, how to fix their hair, that sort of thing. We’ve seen the dangers of overeducating women in other countries—we do not make such mistakes in the Trifectate.”
I remembered my father laughing and saying that he would rather spend more time educating his daughters, because they were the true leaders in every home, and to educate them was to educate a whole family at once.
My head fell at the memory. “What will you do?” I asked.
“Instruct the vestai to spread word of the same throughout their lands,” he said. “With one difference—that they will receive a tax credit for every Elementa that they produce. It’s brilliant—my vestai swear their first loyalty to their overflowing coffers, and it will keep them busy and happy, and quash the Resistance.”
I gasped. “Calix!”
He came and kissed my cheek with a bright smile. “You inspired the idea, my love. Thank you.” His hand slid over my chin, drawing it to him and pressing his mouth to mine. “You are good for my kingdom, wife.”
Irredeemable
When I left the room, Adria was outside, and she bowed to me. I no longer had the will to ask her to stop, so I merely sighed, and straightened my back. “You will show me to this Erudium?” I asked.
“Yes, my lady. And your guard?”
“Stays with her,” Zeph said.
“Very well,” she said with her sly smile. “This way.” She led me to the courtyard, and a waiting carriage.
I drew a breath. “Is this building somewhere in the Tri City?” I asked.
She looked warily at Zeph. “Yes.”
“Then we will walk there.”
“But—” she gasped. “We cannot walk there.”
“You will lead the way,” I told her. “Or I will tell the king you refused to take me.”
She huffed, looking at her thin silk shoes like they would melt away, and walked down the wide causeway. “It isn’t close. And they’re expecting us quite soon. In fact we should have been there already. An absence that will not go unnoticed, I’m sure.”
I glanced at Zeph, and he glowered at her in return.
She looked at me, pausing as she walked. “I don’t mean to be disrespectful; I know that you haven’t been here before, and I just want to make sure you know of our ways,” she told me. “I am your attendant, after all, and no one wishes to displease the king.”
I recoiled a little, unsure if this was meant as a threat or some kind of bait to get me to speak ill of my husband. “We will walk,” was all I said to her.
She bowed to me. “Of course, my queen.”
As Adria, Zeph, and I left the Tri Castles, the recognition from people was instant—even in their clothes, my skin was so different from anyone’s in the Bone Lands. A few had a warm yellow tone to their skin, but nothing like my and Kairos’s rich brown. Still, not many people were in the streets, and those who were there barely raised their eyes to me as they moved quickly past.
We passed a large building with a low rumbling noise coming from it that shook the ground a little, and Zeph nodded to a man in uniform as we walked by. “What’s that?” I asked.
“A grain mill,” he told me. He pointed to a long wall that ran out behind the building as far as I could see. “Grain gets sent on the road, and men grind the grain to make flour.”
I nodded once, and as we walked farther, we saw long lines of weary-looking women and children standing at the back of the mill. I frowned, looking at Zeph.
He raised his shoulders. “They are waiting for their grain allowance.”
“Is there not enough grain?” I asked. “The fields looked so healthy on our way down here.”
“There’s enough grain,” he said. “But not the men to grind it.”
“Where are the men?” I asked.
“Serving as soldiers,” Adria said, cutting a glare to Zeph. “Or building ships and armor in the communes. Skilled men are sent away.”
“And why can the women not work?” I asked, looking over the lines. The women were thin and bedraggled, clutching their children.
Adria looked like she had bitten something sour. “Oh no. Women cannot work.”
“Why not?”
She shook her head. “Well, first of all, it would surely interfere with childbirth.”
I looked at the mill thoughtfully. Grinding grain could not be so much more difficult than carrying tents, and women did that up until they gave birth in the desert. “When they are close, perhaps, but not while they are with child.”
“But it’s … unsuitable. The Three-Faced God does not like women to be so … active. Like walking,” she added, raising her chin.
Unsuitable. Perhaps this was what Danae had meant when she said she wasn’t the princess she was supposed to be. We walked past, but the sight of the mill stayed long in my mind as we approached our destination.
The Erudium was in the center of town, past the factories and far from the water and the docks. It was the very heart of the city. New, like most of the city, it was massive, white and square and tall, with giant swaths of white fabric that dragged my eyes upward. Uniformed men stood guard out front, like this place held all the
treasures of the kingdom.
They let us in, and I watched as the Erudium guards all lined up behind Zeph. Adria breezed in, and I followed her. She led me into a wide, deep room that reminded me of a place in Jitra that had been formed by rock and used for public speeches. This was man-made, the rings where people could sit or stand perfectly spaced, growing ever wider as they rose up.
The room was full of children. Women, not dressed like the women of court but in sturdier red garments that covered more skin and had many cloth ties, stood along the aisles, perfect end pieces to the rows of children.
No one so much as twitched as I was led forward, down a staircase to a platform. A chair on it was set off to the side, and Adria gestured for me to sit.
As my bottom touched the chair, the entire crowd stood up, chins raised, chests pushed forward, and they sang.
Three Faces of the God
To watch over and protect me
Three Faces of the God
To see all the good that’s in me
I will be powerful, righteous, and true
I will stand tall for my country
The Bone Lands will rise anew
And my brothers and sisters will be free
In one motion, they all sat down and stared at me.
I stared back, my heart beating faster.
“My queen?” Adria murmured behind me.
I turned.
“I believe the king told them you would address them. Explain what happened yesterday,” she told me.
I nodded and stood.
They all stood with me.
“Sit,” I said, and they immediately sat.
“How many of you were in the castles yesterday?” I asked. Slowly, about twenty of the hundred or so children in the room raised their hands. One of them was Aero, and he smiled when I looked at him.
“I’m sure it was frightening,” I said, and several heads nodded. “They were trying to scare you.”
“I wasn’t scared!” shouted a boy, standing up. “I only wished for a sword in my hand to gut them like fish!”
The children cheered at this, and I waited for them to quiet. “I was frightened,” I told him, and this brought total silence to the room. “I wasn’t sure if they meant to kill me. I wasn’t sure if I would die the day I became your queen.”
“Who are they?” came another voice. “Who are the Resistance?”
I opened my mouth, but no sound came. I knew what my husband wanted me to say—what I had to say. But they said “Resistance,” and I heard “Rian.” If we spoke of Elementae, I would hear my own name.
“I don’t know,” I told the child. “Perhaps the king, in his wisdom, knows more than I do. I don’t know who they are. But I know that where they go, violence will follow. And you must …” My voice lost its surety. “You must …”
“You must defend yourselves and your families from evil.”
My head rose as everyone turned to look behind them. Up at the top of the amphitheater, Galen started to come down the steps, his eyes on me for a long moment before they swept over the room.
“You are the nation’s every hope,” he said as he descended. “And you must be the ones to tell your parents or your praeceptae if you see someone using elemental magic. You must know what to look for—anything that seems out of place, or strange, or unnatural. You must trust your instincts on this—you are trained men and women of the Trifectate, and you know right from wrong.”
He came to me, bowing over my hand before kissing it and returning to his audience. He clasped his hands behind his back.
“Your queen was threatened yesterday,” he told them, glaring at them like they were responsible. “Who among you will defend her?”
Every boy leaped to his feet, shouting.
“Women, will you not defend your queen?” he asked.
“They’re just girls!” one boy shouted.
“When our nation is strong, we are all strong!” Galen shouted. “When our nation is defended, our queen is defended! How will you defend her?” he asked, pointing to an older girl up front.
“By trusting my instincts?” she said.
“Yes!” he shouted. “Keep your eyes open! Trust your instincts!”
The girls stood now too, and everyone clapped and shouted excitedly at him. Galen surveyed them sternly, not seeming to enjoy their praise, and as young as he was, I could see the military commander in him.
“Now,” he said, “while I’m here, I wish to examine our future recruits.” He nodded to one of the standing women, who clapped her hands and ordered the children to the training grounds. They began filing out, and Galen turned to me. “Forgive the intrusion,” he said, bowing his head.
“It was welcome,” I said. “I didn’t really know what to say.”
He shook his head. “Calix has always been totally at ease before a crowd. It took me far longer to feel comfortable speaking to others.” His mouth pursed thoughtfully. “And still most of what I do is shouting.”
I looked down. “That,” I agreed softly. “And you managed to say what he wanted without it sounding so very hateful.”
“Keeping an eye on your surroundings and trusting your own understanding is usually good advice for our recruits. I figured it applied here. Truly, I don’t think there’s much for them to observe, so I don’t see the harm in it.”
“There’s harm in rewarding turning on one another,” I told him.
His eyes cut to me, and then behind me, where I was sure Adria still stood. “You should stay for training,” he told me flatly. “I’m sure the boys will enjoy fighting for your praise.”
“More fighting,” I said, my voice barely more than a sigh.
The corner of his mouth turned up the smallest bit. “Less blood with the children, usually.” He offered me his arm, and I caught my breath as I put my hand on him. He lowered his arm a little, pulling me closer as we walked forward. “Adria is not to be trusted,” he told me softly. “I don’t mean to rebuke you, but you must watch your words around her.”
It was the same as the ishru—my husband would not be defied, would not be diminished, and certainly not by his wife. You will believe what I tell you to believe, he had said to me. My gaze dropped to the floor, and I felt Galen’s eyes on me, but I didn’t look up.
He left us at the side of an arena with the rest of the girls and went to advise the boys as they practiced fighting. The girls all watched, straight backed and silent. Adria matched their posture perfectly. I noticed one girl, seated in the back with no one around her, her hair short at her neck while every other girl had long braids.
“They cut the hair of willful, unruly girls,” Adria said, following my gaze. “So no one will marry her.”
“What does her hair have to do with marriage?”
“There are contests,” Zeph explained, clearing his throat. “The Consecutio. The boys prove their lessons in physical combat. When they win a contest, they are allowed two privileges—to join the army, and the choice of a wife.”
“Wife—they’re children,” I said, looking to him.
“Elena—the one with short hair—has seventeen years,” Adria told me. Her eyes flicked over me. “The same as you, my queen.”
I looked back at her, surprised. She looked like a child to me. When people saw me, did they see a queen, or a girl in a silver crown?
“The boys are not given much to judge the women with,” Zeph told me. “The hair—it warns of an unsuitable match.”
“You both went through this?” I asked them.
Zeph nodded, and Adria raised her chin. “Of course,” she said. “I was one of the finest pupils. I was chosen when I was fourteen.”
“You’re married?” I asked her.
She took a breath and held it, her body showing the tension of it, but she nodded. “Yes.”
“Zeph?” I asked.
His mouth twitched. “I didn’t exactly win a contest—but I wouldn’t have chosen a wife that way. I am not married, my queen.
”
“Boys have the option to refuse?” I asked.
“As I said, it is a privilege, not a requirement.”
“So girls can also refuse?”
Adria’s mouth fell. “No,” she said. “We should attend to the practice, my queen.”
“So what do you mean, you didn’t win a contest?” I asked Zeph, ignoring her advice. “You’re in the army.”
“Yes,” he said, grinning. “And that is why I am the stuff of legends.”
“Oh, please,” Adria said. “You are just a brute.”
He chuckled.
I knew I shouldn’t take her bait, but Adria’s comment was still on my mind. “You wanted to refuse your match?” I asked her.
She stiffened. “He … wasn’t the one I was expecting to choose me,” she said carefully. “I was in love with someone else,” she admitted, her voice breath-soft as she looked away from me.
But Zeph made a huff of disbelief.
I looked to him, and Adria shook her head sadly. “Do not mock me,” she said, but the command had the tone of begging.
“You didn’t love him,” Zeph said. “You thought you would get him; there’s a difference.”
“Who?” I asked, looking between them.
“The commander,” Zeph said, and she looked to him, betrayed at the information as her face filled with color.
“How could you?” she snapped. “You’re a terrible bully, Zeph, you always have been.” She shook her head. “Besides, Galen knew—he knew what my father wanted for us. That was the plan, and I would have thought he would have had more consideration in refusing the wishes of the high vestai.”
Zeph shrugged. “There was no contract.”
Adria shook her head bitterly. “I don’t want to discuss this any longer.”
If only feelings were dictated by a contract, I wanted to tell her, but it couldn’t be said. Not to her, not in this court, perhaps not ever. “I’m sure Galen must have simply missed his opportunity with you, Adria. Especially since I know that my husband and I both have great respect for your father and his wishes. I can only imagine my husband must have taken him to task—privately—for such a slight.”