"You're going to tell me the truth. All of it."
Queen Lyra sat in her private chambers, embroidery forgotten in her lap. Elaria stood before her, arms crossed, her bandaged arm a reminder of the morning's violence.
"I don't know what you mean, dear." Lyra's voice was soft, gentle. The same voice she'd used Elaria's entire life when deflecting uncomfortable questions.
"Mother, I saw you watching from the window. And I saw your face. You weren't surprised by the shadow magic. You weren't afraid." Elaria moved closer. "You've seen it before. Haven't you?"
Lyra's hands trembled slightly, but her face remained calm. "Elaria—"
"Don't." Elaria's voice was harder than she'd ever used with her mother. "Don't lie to me. Not now. Not after everything that's happened. I deserve the truth."
The q
