to peel as he held a tray of tarts out to Lord Urasa.
Then a low blast rolled through the hall as two servants blew into the matching hollowed mammoth tusks on either side of the thrones. Mutters of confusion rippled through the crowd: the tusks were to announce the entrance of the monarchs. They were meant to stay silent for another week.
Rhusana glided out onto the dais, alone but for her white tiger still on its leash. On her head sat a familiar golden crown. It took Fie a moment to place—then she realized the last time she’d seen it, it had been fused to Ambra’s skull.
“Friends,” Rhusana called into the hall, her smile a little too bright, a little too sharp. “A great day is upon us. Prince Jasimir has done me the great honor of entrusting Sabor to my leadership. He has abdicated the throne, and we will make you wait for your monarch no longer. The Phoenix Priesthood has declared me your new—”
“TRAITOR.” Draga’s voice thundered across the stunned hall.
Rhusana stared at her. One hand twitched toward the black embroidery of her bodice—then fell.
Hair. She’d stitched her fine gown with hair. Fie near spewed.
But Draga’s hair had burned with the rest of Queen Jasindra’s room, and now the master-general took a spear from a nearby Hawk and strode to the middle of the hall, facing the thrones dead on. “What did you do with him?” she demanded.
Fie felt for Tavin’s spark again. It burned yet—but suddenly that felt all the more tenuous.
“It’s a crime to raise a blade against your queen,” Rhusana said in answer.
Draga deliberately pointed the spear her way. “I’ll remember that when I see one. Where is he?”
Gasps swept through the hall.
“You are clearly unfit for your rank,” Rhusana said swiftly. “I hereby remove you as master-general and—”
Draga took a step forward. “You killed Surimir. You killed Jasindra. You tried to pass off an imposter for Prince Jasimir to give yourself the barest whiff of legitimacy. You let this palace be overrun by the Sinner’s Plague because your only master is the Oleander Gentry. You are a coward and a traitor and you cannot command me.”
“Arrest her,” Rhusana ordered the Hawks at the walls.
No one moved.
“I order you!” she repeated, voice climbing, choking at the edges. “I’ll have you all hanged for treason, and you can feed the damned crows! Arrest her!”
The Hawks traded glances, as uneasy as the Peacocks backing away from the dais.
Fie felt it, the reign of Rhusana balanced on a knife’s edge. This was not what they’d planned; this was not how it was supposed to go.
But she could wait no longer. A conjured phoenix was not enough.
She pressed Tavin’s tooth to one palm, the Owl clerk’s tooth to another. This time she knew square what memory to ask for. Then the Peacock song joined the dance, shifting her glamour once again into something terrible and new.
Fie hoped against hope that Jasimir was not watching. Then she began to push through the crowds.
Peacocks twisted, saw what Fie had woven, stumbled away with ashen faces. Servants dropped their trays, splashing broken crystal and wine into the white petals. Even Draga gaped in open horror.
The crowd split until she could see straight to Rhusana. She knew what Rhusana saw, what they all saw: the specter of Queen Jasindra as Tavin had last seen her, staring down the thrones.
Fie had, of course, taken a few liberties. Jasindra’s eyes burned, stark finger-shaped bruises barred her neck, and her hair and robes floated on an unseen phantasmal tide.
Fie drew a breath, pointed at Rhusana, and, in her deepest Chief voice, she called: “MURDERER.”
She could see it on Rhusana’s face: fear, yes, but wrath, too, and desperation. The Swan Queen knew it was naught but a glamour, because she knew the power of an illusion.
Rhusana knew there were no omens, no ghosts, no Lady Sakar—only a Crow girl with a grudge and a bag of teeth. One who was about to cost her a crown.
Rhusana twitched her hand with a hiss. The white tiger shuddered, then leapt for Fie.
“NO—!” Draga threw herself in its path. Fie heard a terrible crack as Draga hit the ground, pinned beneath the great beast. Red splattered across the white petals.
Lord Urasa started toward the dais, bellowing, “Protect the queen!”
The room erupted in chaos. Hawks rushed in from the walls, some flocking to Draga, others to guard Rhusana. Most Peacocks rushed to nowhere and nothing but the exits. If any noticed