Queen Of The Great Underworld

64

“Go on,” I urged.

“Well, there was a time we thought Harta’s gift might extend to noorestones, so I hired twenty or so Hartans to work in one of my mines for a decan. My overseers there didn’t notice a change right away, but we didn’t expect to. Noorestones are not wheat, after all. But only a month ago, I was told that mine is depleted. No new noorestone deposits have been found in almost a year.”

And she blamed Hartans. She didn’t have to say it. The look was in her eye, and her head tilted like a cue for me to agree.

“I can’t tell you how much those Hartans have cost me,” she added. “I can’t wait until they’re gone.”

Say something, my conscience urged. Speak up.

But Galadriel caught my eye and lifted a brow, and her message was clear: she’d punish me for any perceived slight to Sothy.

Strength through silence. Even from far away, Aaru was teaching me that. When to listen, when to speak, and how to measure: those were the lessons of Idris.

I turned away from both of them and watched the musicians play.

DINNER WAS UNBEARABLE.

Oh, the food was delicious. Exquisite. Over seven courses, I ate my fill and then some. But I spent the entire meal thinking about how many prisoners this could feed, and how many would think the plates were works of art, rather than food. Had Aaru ever eaten honeyed duck or drunk from a bottle of century-old wine? It seemed unlikely.

The meal took too long. And went too fast.

The musicians finished a minuet and Dara took the stage. She stood in focused noorestone light, her shadow jutting long and dark to one side. When she spoke, it was with a lifted chin and prideful smile. “Strong shadows, friends.”

A low murmur of “Strong shadows” came from the diners.

“With the Hallowed Restoration behind us and the new year ahead, it’s time for the Twilight Senate to reconvene to discuss ideas, problems, solutions, and the state of our home. I’m so glad everyone here could join us as we move forward. We’re all so busy all the time. I hope the rest of you treasure tonight as much as I do.” Dara held a beat while she waited for the polite applause to finish, and then went on to talk about the surviving Bophan spirit, the legacy today’s leaders would leave, and the importance of cooperation.

I picked at the tiny chocolate cake (topped with three gold lala flowers carved out of pressed sugar) and listened to the speech, but those things held only half my attention. From the corner of one eye, I watched Jan.

When the tables had been brought in and all the senators, diplomats, and important figures sat to eat, Jan and the other guards had moved to keep a better watch on their charges. Which meant I’d been able to sneak glances at my friend throughout the meal, and now that everyone was focused on Dara, I could look a little more.

He appeared healthy. Strong, like always. He scratched his chin through the mask, careful not to move it. Galadriel would probably recognize him, assuming she ever recognized servants outside her own house.

When our eyes met and he smiled, I wanted to stay like that forever. Jan meant safety. Not just when I was seven and that man had tried to kidnap me, but more times than I knew about. Jan was always protecting me. And, though we’d never hugged much growing up (he thought it was unprofessional and Mother thought it was inappropriate), right now, I wanted to run to him and wrap my arms around him. I wanted his arms around me, because he was the only person who could make me feel safe when I was surrounded by enemies.

And what did he think of this? Had he overheard my conversation with Sothy earlier? Did he know what Galadriel and Dara expected me to say? How did he feel about being Hartan on an island that hated him solely because he’d been born to the Daughter?

I couldn’t imagine.

But he was looking at me with all the warmth in the world, and I knew it wouldn’t be long before we were together again.

He made a slow, purposeful glance to his left.

I followed his gaze and my heart leaped into my throat.

Ilina.

My wingsister, my very best friend in the entire world, was clothed as one of the servers, collecting empty dessert plates from a neighboring table. Her hair was loose, and she kept her eyes downcast like the rest of the servants. But she must have felt my eyes on her, because she looked over and flashed a quick, secret grin.

The presence of the two people I loved most warmed me through to my bones. I felt like I could float, and maybe I would have, except at that moment, Dara’s tone changed and I caught my name.

“Now, Mira Minkoba—the Hopebearer of the famous Mira Treaty—is here to speak with us.” Dara motioned toward me. “My dear, if you please.”

My mood plummeted and my heart pounded, but I rose to my feet and smoothed my gown. This, too, was a familiar feeling: the dread of so many eyes on me, all waiting to see if I would mess up; the surge of adrenaline through my veins, like my body urging me to run or fight; and the way my vision tunneled on the stage ahead, because my only option was to get through this.

It would be easier if I had my calming pills. Usually I did, just in case, but Galadriel didn’t know about them. Mother had made me keep that a tightly guarded secret.

A polite applause followed me as I took ten steps, went onto the stage, and turned to face all the most important people on Bopha. Senators, diplomats, generals, businesspeople. Sixty of them. One of me.

The musicians were motionless at my back. The audience waiting in front.

A hundred noorestones. Nine tables. Sixty people sitting. Fifty-five security members. Eight servers vanishing into the shadows.

Jan watched me from his place by the wall. Ilina, too, as she edged toward him.

The words of Galadriel’s speech gathered on my tongue, ready. All I had to do was open my mouth and spill out the words she’d tried to fill me up with. Then I could go home. See my family again. Be with my friends and my dragon.

Tirta had told me to do everything they asked. yarrow had said not to cause trouble or he’d hurt Aaru more.

If I just said what Galadriel wanted, I’d be protecting Aaru. Jan and Ilina, too, because Galadriel would be furious if she discovered they were here.

I wished I’d had an opportunity to talk with them before. I wished I knew what they had planned.

But if I recited the speech like a good mouthpiece, then I wasn’t fixing anything.

Unless I said the right thing.

But then I’d get in trouble.

I’d hate myself forever if I told these people what they wanted to hear, not what they needed to hear.

I’d made a mistake on the docks, costing Kyhan her freedom.

People were staring, waiting for me to say something. I’d been wearing a pleasantly neutral expression—after years of training, my face slipped into that by default—but I’d been standing here slightly too long without speaking.

I cleared my throat. “Thank you for inviting me here tonight.”

Thank you for needing me so much that the Luminary Council was forced to pull me out of the Pit. Or maybe they only needed me because Chenda had refused them.

“One of the more interesting parts of having a treaty named after me is the expectations that arise. I often feel I should be an expert on all matters even tangentially related to the Mira Treaty because we share a name, but I’ve come to realize that isn’t realistic. Not only is it impossible for one person to be an expert in all the things the Mira Treaty covers—dragons and conservationism, independence and equality, unity among the Fallen Isles, and more—it’s far too much weight for a young girl to carry.