never needing a full crew. It’s brilliant, but I can’t help but feel as though he’s leaving me behind.
They’re all leaving me behind.
And why shouldn’t they? Ferrick and Bastian each practice three magics now, and I don’t have so much as one. My blood is directly responsible for the ruination of Visidia. My own people are trying to kill me.
I’d leave me behind, too.
“Didn’t you feel a spark with any of them?” Azami presses. “Maybe we missed it. If you need more time, I’m sure the others wouldn’t mind staying longer to help you learn.”
Azami is genuine; I know this. Like the others, she believes I’m here to find Visidia a king, and she was at least kind enough to try to make meeting Valukan suitors as natural as possible for me by working with them. Nothing she’s doing is wrong. And yet the pressure in my chest is mounting, tearing its way through my body and leaving behind a poison that makes my chest so heavy I can barely breathe.
There’s disappointment in the eyes of the Valukans. A lingering expectation that’s replaced their desire to win me over. Visidia’s High Animancer is meant to be the most powerful person in the kingdom, and they’ve just watched me fail.
Seeing them look at me like that brings me back to the night of my birthday celebration, where my magic took me over in front of a crowd. The memory is an anchor upon my chest, sinking lower and lower until it shatters whatever armor I’ve built around myself. I clutch my stomach, my throat, trying to force air into my lungs as my ears ring with the memories of that night.
She’ll destroy everything!
She’s the one who should be executed! She’ll kill us all!
Bastian’s head snaps up so that his eyes find mine quick as a lightning strike as my vision begins to tunnel in. He doesn’t need for me to tell him I need help before he’s at my side, hands squeezing my shoulders to let me know he’s there.
Why am I doing this?
So what if everyone thinks me weak for not being able to learn their magic? Why is that my fault?
Why am I doing any of this?
Why does it matter what Visidia thinks of me when I’m this close to holding the key to their fate? I could free soul magic for them. I could restore Visidia to what it was always meant to be, and finally tell them the truth. I could lead our kingdom into the future it was always meant to have.
Or I could be selfish. I could have Father back, and with his revival, the pressures of the crown would no longer lie solely upon me. Mother would smile, again. I could hear his laugh, and show him Rukan. He and I could restore Visidia together, and I wouldn’t feel so alone.
It doesn’t matter what anyone else thinks. Visidia’s fate is in my hands, and I’ll do with it what I will. A queen doesn’t need to smile. She doesn’t need to play games.
A queen needs to rule.
“I won’t do this anymore.” The words don’t feel like my own. They’re a bitter whisper, quiet enough that Azami leans in.
“Amora?”
My knees buckle.
“The party’s over.” Bastian’s voice is distant. “Everyone return to your homes, the queen will see you all tomorrow—”
“No.” The moment the word leaves my mouth, I can breathe easier. The freedom of it brings a laugh bubbling to my throat. “No, I don’t think I will see them tomorrow. I think … I think I’m done.”
Azami’s face goes ashen. Behind her, others stare dumbfounded. “Is something wrong, Your Majesty? I’m sure I can fix—”
“You’ve been brilliant.” With each word, the pressure on my chest eases. With every breath, I feel a little more like myself. “I appreciate everything you’ve shown me, and everything you’re doing for Valuka. I’m sure every one of these men are wonderful, but I’ve worked too hard for this throne; I’ve sacrificed too much of myself for my people. No one, no matter how kind or wonderful they may be, will ever understand or be prepared to take on the burden of this crown, and I’m tired pretending that I would let them. Tell Lord Bargas to let the kingdom know I’m done with this charade.”
On every island we’ve visited so far, I’ve lost too much time keeping up appearances. Twice, I’ve nearly died trying to persuade others to like me. I’m tired of pretending to be something I’m not,