privacy of my rooms, keeping even my maids at a distance, cleaning up after myself. They heard me wretch, but they didn’t see the dark substance that scraped its way up my raw insides anytime I had to eat and pretend I was still…still what?
Human?
I looked from Myron to the commander, finding identical looks of horror and concern—and for the first time since this had begun weeks ago, I truly felt the horror too. My eyes met the old priest’s. They held a gleam of grim recognition.
He knows. He knows. My inward whisper became a silent scream.
Nexantius tugged at me from inside, hooking my navel, urging me away.
I may have apologized before I stumbled out of the dining room and began to run down the echoing corridor. It seemed only seconds and yet far too long before I reached the privacy of our suite and mumbled something about a spill to a maid who fussed over me. Somehow, I got rid of her and locked the door.
Relieved, I set my back to the dense, smooth pine, swallowing the wretched taste in my mouth. After a few heaving breaths, I marched to my dressing mirror.
“What are you?” I asked through clenched teeth. My reflection was fearsome, vicious, but not in the way I desired. I looked unkempt and overwhelmed, haunted and harassed, a wild animal pursued to the point of desperation. “I don’t believe in the priest’s drivel. The only true power in this world is magic. So why did his prayer do that to me?”
Magic is not so narrow a thing as you imagine, Nexantius replied. He did not show himself to me in the glass. For a moment, I wondered whether I’d simply gone mad.
“I did not agree to this!” I whispered, dismissing his words. “The tiresome pretense, the sickness, and worst, the way the Holy statues and Father Peramati hold power over me. There’s already someone lording power over me. You were supposed to change that.”
And I will. We have a plan.
“We?” I asked.
The others and me. We abide within the same universe of darkness, banished and cursed. But not for long.
A shiver frolicked over my scalp. The others.
The Fallen’s image manifested in the mirror, taking my place. A tremor nearly buckled my knees; he radiated power, beautiful and mighty enough to resolve the nauseated ache in my belly and inspire a different one at the apex of my hips and thighs. He tilted his masked head, silver eyes as sharp as weapons, vigorous muscles taut but calm.
A knock rapped on the door, and in turn my heart beat against my chest. “Who is it?” I called.
“The physician, Your Majesty, here to examine you,” the guest announced in a muffled voice. “Your husband summoned me.”
My hand flew to the damp spot at my neckline. “I’m feeling better. I just need rest.”
A pause. “Are you certain, my queen?”
“Yes.”
The king is solicitous, Nexantius said when the physician departed. He’s a problem.
I swallowed and again faced the glorious godlike being. “You want me to kill him for showing concern?”
You won’t have to lie and pretend. Nexantius shifted closer, strength rippling beneath his silver skin. Though the mask covered his face, I could see enough to know his beauty might be too much to fully comprehend. His hair was as dark as the blackness around his silver irises. The angles of the mask suggested perfect symmetry.
Kill them both, and you won’t have to eat and make yourself sick. You can destroy every likeness of our enemies and spit on them. You can do whatever you want, and no one will stop you. You are dragging your feet and bringing misery on yourself.
While the Fallen’s words coiled around me, my mind traveled back to the airless dining room, to the priest’s haughty eyes, his tendency to let everyone near him roast like pigs on spits simply because he was frail and apparently too stupid to have heard of a wool mantle. Though I’d resisted in theory, I could see myself hurting him, clamping my fingers around his wrinkly wattle and squeezing until fear filled his eyes.
“Is there any other way for Myron?” I asked.
I suppose there is a way to inoculate him without killing him. I don’t prefer it. But if you insist—
“I do insist.”
Nexantius laughed, low and tantalizing. It rumbled through me. Fond of your mortal king, are you? And he is fond of you. We can use that.
Myron entered the suite with a sigh. As he unlaced his jerkin, he noticed