King Esban was nothing like the monarchs who came before him. He’d only inherited the throne because his elder brother, Almon, died suddenly while visiting a grand duke of Montrice. They’d been out hunting and were on their way back to the duke’s estate when young King Almon fell from his horse in the middle of the field. He was rushed to his room at the manor house, but nothing could be done for him. Other guests at the manor reported that he’d been covered head to toe in a bright red rash; that his face and hands swelled like a melon before he finally suffocated.
As soon as Esban was crowned, a rumor spread that he had actually poisoned Almon. That he’d plotted to kill his own brother in order to enact a heretical agenda against the Aphrasian monks, the only rightful guardians of the Deian Scrolls. In truth, the monks were terrified of King Esban because he didn’t turn a blind eye to their corruption. As rightful leader of Renovia, he was the one man who still had the authority to convict them of treason; he could also disband the order entirely if he believed their duplicity ran too deep to mend.
Aphrasian insurgents printed broadsides and spread them throughout the kingdom’s towns and villages, representing King Esban as a dishonest and greedy man with a vendetta against tradition. “The new king demands the scrolls returned as he wishes to hoard the knowledge of Deia for himself,” read one pamphlet Cal’s father had kept. “Once in his control, he will use its magical power against us.”
Never mind that the opposite was true. Once he was king, Esban and his council had begun working on expanding access to magical training by dismantling Aphrasian monasteries and establishing new centers of learning for the people.
King Esban wanted Renovia to be more than strong; he wanted it to become the most prosperous, advanced kingdom of all the lands, a beacon of arts and sacred knowledge. But for that to happen, the king understood that the privileged, like himself, had to relinquish some control. By the end of his rule, he had done more to advance equality than any other Renovian leader: He lifted levies; eliminated trade barriers at the borders so that rare spices and textiles became more widely available; instructed monasteries to open their doors to those in need—the sick, the hungry.
But that hadn’t been enough to quell the public’s suspicions; at least not with Aphrasians spreading unrest through their campaigns of lies. Some people flocked to the sect rather than embrace change, convinced that Esban would soon unleash his true plan. According to them, he would gain the public’s trust, then, with the abbey disintegrated, hoard the scrolls and use his power to tyrannize the kingdom alongside his foreign-born bride.
If only King Esban had pushed back against the monks from the beginning. But he believed his actions would speak for themselves, that the people would know him through his works and see that the claims about him were false. That he would triumph by deed alone.
That was his greatest mistake.
Eventually the Aphrasians weren’t satisfied with simply dethroning Esban. They plotted to assassinate the king and his pregnant queen, overthrow his advisory council, and place one of their own on the throne instead.
But the king’s spies, led by Cordyn Holt, had infiltrated the sect and warned him before the Aphrasians could strike. Royal military forces descended upon the abbey, taking them by surprise on the eve of their planned attack, and put an end to the plot and the sect.
Or so they thought. Cal sighs. Now he knows the truth. The Aphrasians are far from finished. If anything, they had been able to turn the grand prince to their cause. A man so loyal to the queen that he never even married or had children of his own. It was said he devoted his life to the protection of the crown princess.
Cal leans back against the wall. A palace page eventually appears to greet him, and then vanishes again behind a doorway. Within moments the boy returns and leads Cal into the queen’s receiving chamber.
There is no delay once she is informed of his arrival. This means she has been waiting for him.
Two guards grab the gold scroll handles on either side of a pair of ten-foot-tall arched mahogany doors. Despite their size they swing outward silently.
A long plush runner—flawlessly white—stretches from the doorway into the otherwise empty room, stopping just short of the monarch’s dais. Cal removes his shoes in the receiving hall, takes a deep breath, and steps forward into the doorway. He is ready.
The guard to his left belts out, “Caledon Holt!”
Cal nods to the guard, who doesn’t look back at him.
“Step forward.” Queen Lilianna’s steady voice, still lightly accented from a childhood spent in Montrice, fills the entire room.
She is seated at her throne, flanked by floor-to-ceiling windows on either side, black hair twisted into a thick bun above a simple circlet of intricately carved gold leaves. She almost looks like part of the room’s décor. Her elegant white gown, trim embroidered with leaves of golden thread to match her crown, cascades from her lap and spreads out around her bare feet. She’s been wearing the mourning color for eighteen years, marking herself a permanent widow. Not purely out of mourning, Cal’s certain, but also to ward off potential suitors.
But today she’s not alone. A girl sits on her right, also clad all in white, with a tall, ornate silvery-white wig propped on her head. She wears a white, feathered eye mask, trimmed in diamonds, over a heavily made-up face. Smoky black kohl is visible under the mask and her lips shine with burgundy gloss. Her mouth is set in a bored expression, slightly pursed—she looks down at her matching nails, long and shining in the light. Cal does his best to hide his surprise to see Lilac, the crown princess.
Her appearances are rare—she hasn’t been seen much since she was born, except on special royal occasions, like the queen regent’s birthday or the anniversary of the king’s death, and sometimes not even then. Rumor around the palace is that Queen Lilianna is looking for a suitable match for her daughter before she comes of age and takes the throne, in order to unify Renovia with an ally and keep it safe from the growing threat of the queen’s former home, which also happens to be the kingdom’s closest neighbor. It was rumored that before her marriage to Esban, Lilianna was betrothed to the King of Montrice, but eloped with Esban instead. Their marriage disrupted the growing peace between the two kingdoms, and in the nearly two decades since Esban’s death, relations have grown so strained they are at the brink of war once more.
The princess considers him with her piercing gaze. He slides his gaze elsewhere.
The queen doesn’t speak right away. Cal tries to appear calm.
“Leave us,” the queen orders. Her guards bend at the waist and back out of the room, shutting the doors softly.
“Your Majesty . . . ,” Cal begins.
The queen holds up a hand. “There is nothing to say,” she tells him. His heart sinks. He knows he’s ruined. “You have slaughtered a prince of the realm.”