Page 24 of Once the Skies Fade

Isa, who normally stood behind my seat on the dais, positioned herself directly to my left, presumably to block my view of the matching, now vacant, chair. I could have kissed her for that courtesy.

For the first two hours, I judged several disputes between neighbors, approved aid to one family whose home was destroyed in a recent fire, and listened to countless requests for tax deferment and increased protection on the roads. Isa took notes, provided the necessary written declarations to each citizen, and offered her recommendations—whispered in my ear, of course—when I stalled on a decision. All in all, the morning proceeded better than I expected, and my confidence swelled. Perhaps I would be able to find some sense of comfortable normality and routine quickly after all.

But when the next pair of citizens stepped slowly forward and tucked their fine hair behind rounded ears, I bristled.

No, worse than that.

I burned.

Rage flared in my chest, pulling my teeth together hard.

These were not the humans who had killed Brennan. The Olanders were to blame for that, not these two women.

All logic and reason vanished from my mind, drowned by the incessant images of Brennan’s body on our balcony.

His hand reaching for me.

His lips trying to speak to me as he lay dying.

My hands started to shake in my lap as my pulse quickened. I clasped my fingers tighter together, desperate to quell the rising flood of anger.

They didn’t kill him.

These women are not to blame.

I repeated these words, over and over with every step the women took toward me, but the closer they got, the hotter my wrath burned. No, their hands hadn’t killed him, but I couldn’t ignore their mortal appearance, couldn’t shake the memories and the grief. I couldn’t look at them without seeing Brennan’s dying eyes staring back at me.

I couldn’t do this.

How could I rule them—how could I help them—when the very sight of them twisted my thoughts and clouded my vision with vengeance?

They stopped directly in front of the dais and bowed their heads in unison.

“Your Majesty?—”

“No,” I growled, pushing to my feet. Isa’s hand lighted on my shoulder, but I nudged it away as I fought to keep my shadows reined in. “That is all I can manage today,” I said.

Time. Yes, all I needed was time.

Time for Minerva’s curse to dole out its justice.

Time for my heart to heal.

Time for my rage to quell and for my mind to calm.

The humans—two young women, sisters perhaps—exchanged bewildered glances before they both looked to Isa for guidance. Isa turned to me.

“What’s the matter?” she whispered. “Do you need a break?”

“Please, Your Majesty,” one of the women begged, but her voice scraped against my patience, worn dangerously thin from my torment.

“No,” I said again through gritted teeth. My magic surged, and I had to clasp my hands together behind my back to keep my shadows from breaking free. “Leave. Now.”

“Pardon?” one of the women asked.

My hands began to shake. My shadows seemed to be bucking against my resolve. “Get out of my home. Out of my kingdom.”

An eerie quiet hushed over the room as everyone seemed to hold a collective breath. Only Isa moved, approaching me gingerly, like I was a wounded animal in the wild.

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