and Elizabeth.
“Not even Pepper likes to be up this high,” Elizabeth says. Inside her hood, the woodpecker chirps with agreement, and she edges away from the cutout in the stone.
“He flies across mountains to ferry messages,” says Bree, “yet he is afraid of the height of the tower?”
“He flies across mountains, true, but never so far from the ground!”
Mirabella smiles as her friends talk. She leans back, lets the wind ruffle her black dress and whip through her hair. This is her favorite place in the capital by far. Or at least her favorite of what she has seen. She has been allowed only in the Volroy and the most secluded of its gardens, always flanked by armed queensguard soldiers. Up here on the battlements, though, the soldiers wait on the stairs just inside. Perhaps they do not care for heights either.
“Come here.” She holds her left hand out for Elizabeth to take. “I will not let you fly away.”
“But will you let me?” Bree asks, spinning, her elemental gift also delighting in the cold gusts and clouds. “You could call a gale to carry me out to sea and back again! Then set me down gently in the courtyard.”
“Could I?” Mirabella laughs.
“It is so good to have you back again, Mira,” says Elizabeth, grasping her hand tightly. “And I’m sure that the queen will allow you more freedom as soon as she declares your allegiance before the city.” She sidles closer and Mirabella wraps her in her billowing black cloak. “The people will be so happy; even in the temple, there are rumblings of approval.”
“That is surprising,” says Mirabella. “Two queens together . . . two queens alive after an Ascension . . . It is not allowed to be.”
“So perhaps now you see the truth of the temple,” Bree says to Elizabeth. “It is not tradition but the word of the High Priestess that determines their course.”
“Do not be so hard on them, Bree,” Mirabella says when Elizabeth frowns. “They have seen things that no other generation has seen. The mist rising. A legion-cursed girl who is strong as a queen. Two traitor queens disappeared into the mist only to show up again alive and well. The temple does not know what to do. So they listen to Luca, because she is the Goddess’s voice to the people.”
In the whip of the wind, she cannot hear Bree’s muttered reply. But she sees the bitter twist of her lips, and it fills her with regret. When they were children, Bree was always so pious. Wild, of course, always wild, but she prayed at the temple every night with her eyes squeezed shut. Unlike Elizabeth, who has always understood the flaws and shortcomings of the priestesses, Bree’s faith was fragile. She held it up too high. And now she has lost it, unable to accept the temple’s human failings.
Bree wraps Elizabeth in her cloak from the other side. “When Queen Katharine announces your allegiance, she will want to present you to the people. When she does, you must make sure that you do not outshine her, Mira; even now that she is queen, she still feels so uncared for.”
“Uncared for?”
“She said something to me once. That she had never had friends like you and Arsinoe had. She only had the Arrons.”
“And they are a cold lot, to be sure,” Elizabeth adds.
Mirabella looks at them quietly. “She has won you over by degrees. Even though she murdered a boy right before your eyes. Even though she cut Madrigal Milone’s throat.”
Bree’s mouth tightens guiltily, but she does not deny it. What else can they do? The Queen Crowned is the Queen Crowned. And no matter which queen they wanted to see on the throne, eventually the island comes to love the one they have.
“We would never choose her over you,” Bree says. “We would never let her hurt you. Maybe in bringing you here, she has begun to show the better part of herself.”
Mirabella nods. Part of her cannot help but feel betrayed, even though she left her friends behind to make her way in another place. It is not fair to be hurt that they have done the best that they can. They are still her Bree and her Elizabeth. They always will be.
“Besides,” says Elizabeth, “you’re here now. You’ve turned away from the rebellion and made peace with the crown. So why should we not be fond of the queen?”
Mirabella looks to the northwest. From this height, it seems she