of House Samos, black and silver, are stamped at the bottom. I stare at it, feeling unfinished. Then I look up again, finding the eye of the camera, one of thousands of eyes now watching me.
Something flutters in the window, catching my attention for a split second.
The moth is small, its wings gleaming between green and black like a pool of oil. It shouldn’t be out in daylight. Moths are nocturnal creatures, better accustomed to islands of light amid darkness. They also have remarkable hearing. All this passes through my mind in an instant, and the pieces click together neatly.
My mother is watching.
The wolf is at my throat again, its teeth sharp and digging. It threatens to rip me in two. Only the camera, the audience, the eyes of so many keep me rooted to the spot. The familiar fear and shame claw up my spine, poisoning my insides, but I cannot let them see. I cannot let her stop me now. There is still more to say and more of her dreams for me to ruin.
Under the desk, my hand curls into a fist. For once it isn’t rage driving me, but resolve.
I have only ever thought the words I speak next. Never even whispered them. Let alone spoken them to an audience, of ten or ten thousand. Let alone said them to my mother. That woman is always listening, and perhaps now she will finally hear me.
“Hereafter, I shall be known as Evangeline Samos of Montfort, and I swear my allegiance to the Free Republic, where I can live and love freely. I renounce my citizenship in the Rift, in Norta, and in any country where people are caged for the circumstances of birth.”
The pen scratches across the page, nearly ripping it in two with the force of my flourishing signature. Heat bleeds over my cheeks, but my makeup is thick enough to hide any flush that might betray my thundering heart. A buzzing sound rises around me, drowning out the whir of machines. I keep steady and do as I was told. Hold eye contact. Stare. Wait for the signal. The lens of the camera seems to swallow the world; the edges of my vision go soft.
One of the Red technicians fusses with the camera, flicking switches while motioning for Ptolemus and me to remain still. I feel the vibrations of the machine cease as the broadcast ends, cutting to black everywhere but here. The Red lowers his finger and we are released, exhaling in unison.
It’s over and done with.
With a burst of concentration, I shred the steel chair behind me, letting my throne collapse into a pile of needles. It doesn’t take much energy—steel is familiar to me—but I feel exhausted afterward and lean forward on my elbows.
The Reds and the Scarlet Guard shrink back a little, wary of the outburst. The Silver nobles look only disgusted, though none would dare say so to our faces. With a sneer, Jerald makes for his daughter, but Elane avoids him neatly.
She is quick to take my shoulder, and her hand trembles against my skin, quivering.
“Thank you,” she breathes, so only I can hear. “Thank you, my love. My iron heart.”
The lights of the room seem to collect in her skin. She is dazzling, glowing, a beacon calling me home.
It wasn’t just for you, I want to say, but my mouth won’t open. It was for me.
In the window, the moth is gone.
And for her.
Like the rest of the estate, the sculpture garden is abandoned, and somewhat overgrown without a greenwarden’s touch. Carmadon could do wonderful things here. One side offers a commanding view of the valley, down to the Allegiant. Every statue seems bigger and more foreboding than I remember, frozen in arcs of steel and chrome, resolute iron, proud copper, even polished silver and gold. I draw my fingers along them as I walk, rippling each one. Some dance at my command, re-forming into swooping curves or spindles thin as thread. Using my ability for artistry is cathartic, a release of tension that I can usually only find in the training arena. I spend long minutes alone, molding everything to my liking. I need to relax as much as I can, if the next obstacle is to be hurdled.
I must face her alone. Without any crutch. Not Elane, not Ptolemus. It would be too tempting to let them fight this battle for me. And that is not a habit I want to make.