own powerlessness, but this was all part of her mother’s punishment: to make her dangle and dance.
“Why does she do this?” Elyssa had once wailed to Lady Glynn, after she had tripped and ripped a tapestry from the wall. Her mother had not spoken to her for days; Elyssa had only been eight or nine, but it was the first time she could remember thinking that her mother’s style of punishment was conscious, almost vicious.
Lady Glynn, who had known the Queen since childhood, had answered immediately. “Because it was just as her mother did, and her grandmother before.”
“I will be different,” Elyssa had vowed bravely. “I will change.”
She had meant it, but even now, Elyssa had to admit that her mother’s wrath was effective. She was twenty-one, not eight, but she felt no braver than she had on that long-ago day of the tapestry. Gareth, the speech in the Circus . . . Elyssa’s latest infractions had been so great, so unconscionable, that she could not begin to imagine what lay in store.
“Princess,” Bowler murmured. He had opened the door of her mother’s chamber, and Elyssa had not even noticed. “She’s ready for you.”
Elyssa stood. Her legs wanted to wobble, but she would not let them. Taking a deep breath, she passed Bowler and went into her mother’s chamber. The stocky guard remained outside, closing the door behind her—her mother wanted no witnesses to this conversation, apparently—and at the click of the latch, Elyssa’s anxiety seemed to ratchet upward even further. She had meant to take this opportunity to raise the issue of Thomas and the girl he had purchased, a scandal that had now spread beyond the Keep and out into the city. But now she didn’t know whether she would have the courage.
Gareth is safe.
Elyssa held to this fact as though to a lifeline. Rain had fallen several days before . . . only a night’s shower, not enough to put a dent in the drought, but the city had gone mad, taken to the streets, and their joy had reminded her of Gareth. . . . Gareth, who had spoken with such certainty of the better world. Whatever was in store for her, she had traded it for Gareth’s life. The Guard had been unable to track him in the tunnels, and in the days since, Elyssa had begun to think that they were even angrier with her than they were with him. When Givens spoke to her, it was with cold politeness only. Her own Guard—Kibb and Carroll in particular—seemed more sympathetic, but they would not show that sympathy, not where Givens could see. Fear threatened to overwhelm her again, and Elyssa closed her eyes and thought of that night with Gareth on the bed. It was not an entirely comfortable memory, for deep within lay the knowledge that the witch had seen it all, and the more alarming idea that the witch might have orchestrated the entire thing for reasons of her own. But Elyssa shied away from the latter thought. It was a good memory, that night with Gareth, and it had gotten her through all of these long nights of fear and doubt, the certainty with each dawning day that her mother would summon her, strip her of her birthright, and set Thomas in her place.
And what if she does? her mind asked. If she truly means to strip you, what will you do?
The last time Elyssa had asked this question of herself, she had found no answer. But now she saw the solution, saw it clearly in the memory of the screaming mass of humanity beneath her in the New London Circus. They had been wild, mad even, but their madness was born not of violence but of trust. They trusted Elyssa to protect them, and once upon a time Elyssa had wondered how far she would go for her kingdom. But now she knew. If her mother installed Thomas as heir, then he could not be allowed to ascend the throne.
“Elyssa.”
She bit her lip, all resolve muting as her mother’s form emerged from the enormous dressing room at the far end of the chamber. For a long moment the Queen remained in shadow, and Elyssa had time to think how imposing her mother was, how frightening in her own right. When she came into the light, still clad in her long morning robe, the impression was lessened . . . but only a little.
“Elyssa. What am I to do with you?”
Elyssa