Page 12 of The Royal Gauntlet

Around us, conversations quiet.

Kai and Helene arrive late, stepping in from outside. Dion and Finn drop into the room at the last minute as well, slipping into chairs across the table. We’ve been scattered, trying to play defense. Finn, Dion, Helene, and Kai have been attempting to drum up support from their friends and acquaintances. We’re behind the eight ball on all of it, and the bad press about me from the Trials has made it that much harder to get people on our side. I think those four are the only reason anyone agreed to come today. Posey had the benefit of pre-planning everything, so now we’re stuck in a reactionary mode. I can only hope that after this meeting, the tide turns.

“There is much to discuss,” Estelle begins. Her ivory skin has an ethereal glow that wasn’t there before, betraying her as other, even among our people. She holds out a hand to Zara, who gives her a folder. My friend who felt so useless during the Trials finally has crucial work to keep her busy. She’s made herself Sybil and Estelle’s assistant.

“I’m sorry, but aren’t you the cook?”

I look for the god who asked and struggle to place a name. I feel awkward, staring so hard at his dark skin and slicked-back hair. He looks like a model, and he knows how handsome he is in his tuxedo. He spins in his seat, looking around the room to see if anyone objects. When he catches me staring, he gives me a small nod of acknowledgement.

“Mohsin, God of Dancers. You once got drunk and challenged him to a dance-off for your crown,” Essos whispers. His breath is so close, it sends warmth spreading through my veins.

“I’m guessing that didn’t end well?” I snicker, ignoring the chatter that started up at Mohsin’s question.

“He was a gentleman and let you keep your crown.” Essos grins at me before kissing my shoulder. He nods toward the equally ethereal woman beside Moshin, her long, dark hair swept into a messy ponytail and a smudge of flour on her cheek that’s a shock against her brown skin. Even from here she smells faintly of chai and vanilla. “His twin sister, Saima. Goddess of Baked Goods. She was always my go-to when I was groveling.”

“So, will you be asking her to ply me with treats to get you out of trouble this time?” I whisper, and the man has the audacity to feign shock that he’s in trouble.

“I’ve got nothing to be sorry for.”

The conversation around us distracts me from our tiff.

“I don’t see why being a cook would exclude her from being a Fate.” Zara’s voice is stronger than I’ve heard it in a long time. She glares at anyone who dares meet her eye in challenge.

“That’s because you’re a mortal. This would be like finding out that your Jesus guy was a short-order cook at some dive bar in Arizona,” someone else calls out. I turn toward the voice but don’t catch who it was. It may not even be someone I recognize.

My inability to remember everyone’s faces drives another stake into my heart. Whether she intended it or not, it’s yet one more way that Posey has managed to fuck me over. I know that when I stop and let myself examine Rafferty’s implication that I may never get my memories back fully, I’ll be devastated. That’s why I can’t think too hard about it. That emotion won’t serve me.

“The press is calling them False Fates. From theSolarem Sunto theSolarem Times, no one believes that they’re the Fates, and I don’t know why you expect us to,” Pyrus, Goddess of Fire, says from their spot beside the fireplace. At least that’s one face I recognize. It’s round with flames dancing in their irises, giving a luminous look to their dark-olive skin. Their blonde hair is shorn close to the scalp, but I can see little sparks when they run their hand over it.

Essos stands. “I hear your concerns about Estelle and Sybil. You’re confused and frustrated—we all are. That’s why we called everyone here to discuss what happened, so you will have the facts and we can quit fighting amongst ourselves and focus on the broader issue, which is Posey.”

“Another Fate?” a blonde woman asks. Her pale skin has more of a tan to it, and when she twists around in her chair, looking at everyone, I catch a glimpse of brown eyes that snag for entirely too long on my husband. I place my hand over his where it rests on the table and give it a squeeze.

Estelle steps forward. “Our sister did this not only to you, but to us. We have been working with Gisella to see what information has been scrubbed from the history books. Posey shielded our existence, our memories, and made us forget who we were. This was not trivial magic. This was huge, the kind of magic used when she tore down the veil between worlds and when she started the zombie apocalypse in the mortal realms.”

“So says you,” the blonde pipes up again.

I look at her more closely, leaning an elbow on the table. Something about her isn’t sitting right with me, and I don’t know if it’s because I should remember her or because she’s irritating me by being adversarial.

“So says us,” I respond.

Essos tenses as all attention turns to me.

“Why should we believe the Traitor Queen?”

Essos takes my hand and pulls me to my feet beside him. I’m uncertain as he takes a deep breath before trying to convince these people. “I like to think most people in this room respect me. I believe I’ve earned your respect over the years as a fair ruler, and I’ve handled your funds well.” He pauses for a beat, waiting for anyone to voice their objection. “Right, well, there’s no easy way to say this. We lied to you all.”

My husband and his flair for the dramatic. Around the room, people start to whisper. Xavier’s eyes narrow at me as if he’s asking where the fuck Essos is going with this, but I have no idea what to say.

“We lied about what happened to my queen many years ago. The God of War and SufferingmurderedDaphne in our home, and rather than explain to you that there was a weapon capable of murdering gods, we chose to hide that. We told you a lie—that Daphne wanted to experience being mortal, and during that time, she was killed.”

He doesn’t look at me. Instead, he stares at the far wall, his eyes going distant. I can see it, the way my death must have broken him. There’s a grim set to his mouth until I squeeze his hand again. Essos finally meets my eye, giving me a quick, small smile. It’s all I can do to return the gesture. We can do this together.

“Galen stabbed a dagger through my heart,” I say, picking up for him. I glance around the room, meeting people’s eyes. “When I returned as part of the Calling, I had no memory of this. I had no idea what I was doing. Galen preyed upon that confusion and naivety. He took advantage of the fact that I didn’t know who I was, and he built a narrative that made my husband—that made Essos—the villain.”

“He picked the wrong fight,” Helene interjects. “Galen and Essos are both my brothers. You know that I have no cause to lead you astray. What they speak now is the truth.”

“A convenient truth, after lying to us. Sure, we’re totally going to trust you all now.” It’s the blonde again, and the look she gives me tells me that I’m missing something. She’s surveying me and finding me lacking. It makes me want to curl my hands over my stomach protectively, but I’m wearing a loose-fitting shirt to hide my pregnancy. It’s the last thing I want to be questioned about.

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