A few bruises and sore muscles twinged as Tasia walked, and she rubbed the pad of her thumb against the callouses that had formed on her palm from carrying rocks. A nobleman walking in the opposite direction stopped when he saw Tasia and Joslyn, dropping to one knee and removing his hat with a dramatic flourish. Tasia pretended not to see him.
For all she knew, he was one of the conspirators who’d tried to kill her.
For all she knew, the conspirators would be at the council meeting in just another hour or two, smirking at her while she sat at her father’s side, pretending respect for the new female heir but all the while plotting her demise.
“What good will self-defense lessons do, in the end?” Tasia asked Joslyn suddenly. “We know that whoever tried to kill me was a noble or being assisted by one. If they want to find a way to get to me, they will. They’ve probably been at all the council meetings these past two weeks, laughing at me while they wait to make their next move.”
Joslyn said nothing at first. She gave Tasia a quick, sideways glance. “Self-defense on the beach is not that different from self-defense in the council room, Princess,” said the guard. “It’s still a matter of identifying your advantage, doing what they don’t expect, and maintaining your balance.”
“Maybe,” Tasia said glumly.
“You out-witted the man who tried to kill you,” Joslyn said.
“No, I didn’t. I got lucky with the two guards being nearby.”
They skirted the atrium and turned left down the corridor that would lead to her father’s office and the council chambers.
“Why try to kill me, anyway?” Tasia said. It was a question that still troubled her, that she still came back to. On the one hand, she knew the answer — she was the eldest child of the House of Dorsa, the child the Emperor had always favored most. But on the other hand, the assassination attempt just didn’t make sense.
“To pressure your father,” Joslyn answered. “To threaten him, to intimidate him, to take away his blood heir.”
“But I’m not his only blood. There’s still Adela.”
“From what I’ve seen of your younger sister — ”
“Don’t,” Tasia warned. “If you’re going to belittle her, say that she’s too frivolous or only cares for ponies, I swear to Mother Moon I will send you back to Terinto.”
“That wasn’t what I was going to say.”
“No? What were you going to say, then?”
“That from what little I have seen of your sister, she is a gentle spirit — a spirit of water and air,” said Joslyn. “Yielding. The still waters of a mountain lake or slow-flowing river that rarely build to a tidal wave. Your own spirit is made of fire and rock. Which, once tamed, is better suited for leadership. Whoever tried to kill you must have known that. Must have known you’d be a threat to whatever it is they want.”
“Water and air, fire and rock? Spirits?” Tasia gave a half-laugh. “What is this — Terintan astrology?”
“If that’s how you prefer to think of it,” said the guard with a shrug.
They walked a few more paces in silence, Tasia going over the faces of the lords and ambassadors in her mind. The long-faced Lorent from the Steppes. The carefree Lord M’Tongliss who spoke of demons attacking the Imperial Army even while the others laughed at him. The handsome young Lord Simon, the fat Lord Wendell, the tired Lord Albert. She played through dozens of other faces, wondering which one — or ones — might want her dead. Did Norix have his suspicions? Did her father?
A thought occurred to her, and Tasia stopped short. What if Norix or her father did know who had tried to kill her, and naming her his heir was just a way of drawing the killer into the open? What if her father had used her as bait?
“Princess?” Joslyn said. “What’s wrong?”
“Why did my father make me heir, Joslyn?” Tasia asked. “I’ve never done anything for him. Or for the House of Dorsa. I mean, yes, I show up to royal functions and bat my eyes at the lords and laugh at their jokes like a good princess is supposed to do, but that’s not enough to rule an Empire. What if… do you think my father might just be trying to draw out my assassin by making me his heir?”
“No,” Joslyn said firmly. “Your father is not that kind of leader.”
“But what if he is?” Tasia argued. “He can’t possibly see anything in me that would suggest I could be an empress.”
The guard studied Tasia for a moment. “May I see your hand, Princess?”
“My… why?”
The guard reached out, took Tasia’s hand and turned it palm-up. She ran her thumb across the top of it lightly and nodded her approval. “Callouses. In my experience, not many highborn — outside Terinto, that is — have them.”
Tasia snatched her hand away. “I know. They’re terribly unsightly. And they are entirely your fault. You with your ridiculous beach drills.”
Joslyn shook her head. “No. Callouses mean you are learning. And you haven’t complained about your lessons since the day you slapped me.”
Tasia blanched. “I regret having done that.”
“I know,” said Joslyn. “Never say that you were nothing before you were your father’s heir, Tasia. Your hands have undergone a transformation; your mind is undergoing the same transformation. Someone wished you dead because they see the potential in you. We will discover who that someone is in time. Until then, your best protection is to know who you are.”
“Who I am? What, the Princess?”
“No. The woman of fire and rock, the woman who carries boulders and knows how to break free from a choke hold.” She gazed at Tasia intently. “Your mistake has been to believe you are who they say you are — the Princess. But ‘Princess’ is not who you are; ‘Princess’ is a title. This — ” she tapped the bare skin of Tasia’s breastbone with one finger “ — and this — ” she lifted one of Tasia’s hands and ran her own rough thumb over the callouses there “ — is who you are. No twist of fate, not even death or the threat of death, can part you from that.”
“More Terintan astrology.” Tasia stared at her guard a long moment. “How did you get to be so wise?”
“I was a slave once,” Joslyn said, a tentative smile growing on her face. “And no slave becomes truly free until they realize that ‘slave’ is just a word and not who they are.”
Just then, the time-caller’s voice echoed down the corridor from his place in the atrium. “The time is now one of the clock! One of the clock!” he shouted.
“Oh, pig shite,” Tasia said. “We’re late.”
14
Conversation came to an abrupt halt inside the Emperor’s office when Tasia and Joslyn walked in.
“You’re late,” the Emperor said.
“I know, Father. I’m sorry.”
His office contained all the usual faces — Commander Cole at his place against the wall, Wise Man Norix seated at the desk next to him, General Remington and Wise Man Evrart on the divan. Wise Man Crestin, another one of Norix’s top assistants, was also in the room. Tasia wondered what he might be doing here; Crestin typically handled the writing and dissemination of public announcements. Was her father preparing an announcement? Of what?