Page 14 of Queen of Legends and Lies
As I start to turn, her voice, soft but firm, stops me cold. “A leader’s first responsibility is to define reality.” Her words slice the air with precision.
Whipping around, I find her gaze fixed on a leaf, her fingers tracing the velvety surface as if imparting some ancient wisdom upon it.
“Define what?” My voice crackles with a mix of confusion and frustration. How can I define reality when it shifts beneath my feet like sand in a storm?
“Define what you want done and then sell the people on it.” She picks up the watering can and resumes spritzing. The trickle of liquid hitting the soil provides a soothing counterpoint to my churning thoughts. “But to do that, you must know what you’re dealing with and have a plan to achieve your goals.”
Her advice is more like a puzzle, each word a piece that doesn’t quite fit into the chaotic picture of my rule. Yet, somewhere within her cryptic guidance lies the truth, a truth I need to unravel if I’m to lead and protect this kingdom from the shadows that seek to devour it.
I pace in a semicircle, the crunch of gravel beneath my boots relaying my frustration. “Well, I don’t know what I’m dealing with, and I have no plan.”
Alannah straightens and faces me. “Get one.”
“How?” I toss my hands up, the urge to scream at the heavens almost overpowering.
She puts down her watering can once more and glides closer. Her fingers wrap around my hand. Like the roots of the ancient trees in the royal gardens, they’re firm and unyielding. Her touch grounds me, and for a moment, the chaos inside me stills.
“You’re focusing far too much on temporal human problems and solutions, Lark. Our issues right now are directly related to the gods, which means you must enlist them for a solution.”
“Enlist the gods?” Every fiber of my being wants to rebel against such an idea. Surely, it’s not that simple. Is it? Nyc, the Goddess of Night, has already answered my prayers and chastised me for my failure. My mind races through every story, every lesson on our pantheon. I’ve felt their presence, seen their influence, but to ask for direct intervention? “Who am I to petition gods? How could I even do that?”
“Nicely?” She smiles, a brief flash of mirth in her watery eyes. “There are ways to draw their attention. Ways that a queen-to-be, the only dragoncaller in generations, might muster.”
“Gods,” I mutter under my breath, the word a prayer and a curse all at once. Fire, dreams, and war all hold sway over the elements within me, over the power that crackles at my fingertips, eager for release.
I need to figure out which of these deities will bother to listen. Valk for strength, Aletheia for clarity, or maybe one of the Chron gods would help me. Chronira, Goddess of the Future?
Nope. I rule out the Chronimurti without another thought. Petitioning any of those three is too risky. From what I’ve read,they love to test mortals who seek their guidance. And their tests can be lethal.
“Start with one who aligns with your strengths.” Alannah releases my hand to pluck a dead leaf from her beloved plant. “And find a way to make them an offer they can’t ignore.”
“An offer.” Somewhere deep within, a spark ignites. Not a plea, but a trade. That was how I first got Nyc’s attention. I sacrificed a feather of a harbinger owl, one of her sacred beasts.
I no longer have any feathers, but surely, I can find a worthy offering.
That’s something I can work with, something that’s real in a world where reality keeps shifting. “Thank you.” I may not have a plan yet, but I’ve got the beginnings of an idea, and sometimes, that’s all the foothold one needs to climb a mountain.
“Remember, Lark,” Alannah calls out as I stride away, “the gods respect those who dare greatly. Be daring.”
Daring.
Yeah, I can do that.
With a nod to the dowager queen, a woman who’s seen more of life and its cruel twists than I can imagine, I set out to do exactly that. Because if enlisting the gods is what it takes to save Sterling and torch the tainted eyril field above Narc’s body, then so be it.
I’ll call down the heavens if I must.
Chapter Six
I weave through my chambers, the weight of the crown heavy on my thoughts. Though I can’t deny that royalty comes with benefits. Using my status, I managed to acquire the claw of a black cave cat. And, of course, a suitable jar with a tight-fitting lid.
Cave cats and owls are Nyc’s sacred animals. If a feather was enough to get her attention before, perhaps this claw will work too.
My balcony beckons, offering solitude where I can commune with Nyc undisturbed, or so I hope. Stepping out into the balmy afternoon air, the clink of armor and low murmurs remind me that the king’s guards—no, the queen’s guards—now watch over me.
At the edge, a spiral staircase curls upward like a promise, and I ascend, seeking the solitude above. The rooftop garden unfolds like a blossom. Containers of ornamental plants cast jagged shadows, creating a natural fortress of privacy.
It’s perfect.
