The Promised Queen (Forgotten Empires #3)- Jeffe Kennedy Page 0,88

of like a kid again—but in the best way—I added details of the crenellations along the top, then grinned at Lia. She smiled, well satisfied with her surprise.

“It responds to the image you have in mind,” she explained loudly enough for everyone to hear, “so the more clearly you envision what you want to create, the more detailed it will be.”

“All right, people,” I said, “let’s re-create Yekpehr.”

“When we’re done, can we blow it up?” Sondra asked.

“Absolutely,” Lia replied with a lethal smile. “I’d expect nothing else.”

* * *

I consulted with Dearsley, the two of us settled at the teacher’s desk and going over lists while the others worked at the model. They spent hours at it, each taking a section and building it, then critiquing what others had wrought, adding details, making modifications. Being right there allowed me to watch some of the smartest, most talented and creative people I’d ever met play like a bunch of kids at the sand table.

For even though their intent was deadly, the planning critical, and their focus on executing a dangerous, if not impossible rescue, they were having fun. Uproarious laughter broke out now and again with exclamations of chagrin and consternation. They also argued vociferously, and I caught even Agatha’s usually quiet voice rising adamantly on some point or another. Ibolya joined in, too, and it was good to see her expressing herself.

Pages, messengers, and my other ladies came and went, casting curious glances at the strange sight of weapons propped among the toys, and adults arguing about towers. Dearsley and I had our own debates, sorting our own rescues around Calanthe into order of priority as more information came in, redistributing aid to the parts of Calanthe in most need, setting a schedule to rebuild. I kept another list, a private one, of land I’d go in and repair myself. Soon we’d have the memorials for those lost, which meant I should consider a real tour of the island—not a false one of distraction—to make the appropriate solemn speeches. I didn’t look forward to that duty of grief, especially as I’d have no Con to keep me company.

Every now and again, Con looked over to check on me, but mostly he remained absorbed in the exercise. Once they’d created the exterior of the citadel and immediate coastline, they’d divided into teams, building smaller models of various interior rooms.

I was deep into debate with Dearsley on whether I was favoring Cradysica’s rebuilding overmuch—I confess I carried a weight of guilt there, so he could be correct, but they’d also been damaged first—when Con came over and laid a hand on my shoulder.

I glanced up, my smile fading at his serious expression. “What’s wrong?” I scanned the room, looking for trouble, but everyone remained involved in their tasks—except Sondra, who stood by one corner of the table, giving me an apologetic grimace.

“Nothing’s wrong,” Con quickly assured me. “It’s just … Sondra could use your help remembering the throne room.”

The memory of pain welled up, accompanied by black nausea, and I had to swallow hard against it. Con’s hand tightened on my shoulder. “Never mind. It’s too much to ask. I can—”

“No,” I said, standing and smoothing my butterfly-bright skirts. I’d felt like a butterfly in the gorgeous dress, remade and renewed. But apparently my shadows chased me still, the cocoon of the corpse I’d been still waiting to be entirely shed. “Of course I can help.”

I went with him to the far end of the table, looking with interest at all they’d done so far. Much of it I didn’t recognize, as I’d been either unconscious or locked into one of two sets of rooms for much of our tenure there.

“Why do you need the throne room, in particular?”

“We might not,” Con said, so blandly that I knew he was lying, “which is why, if it’s too difficult for you to revisit in memory, we can—”

“I said it wasn’t,” I interrupted tersely. What was he up to?

“Don’t bite,” Con replied mildly, setting a hand on the small of my back as if he knew I needed the support. “We’re simply constructing every part of the citadel that we can, in case it’s helpful to our plan. You and Sondra are the only ones who’ve seen the throne room in years.”

“And my memory is shit,” Sondra explained, making a woeful face at the rudimentary model she’d started on. “I’m not embarrassed to admit I was more worried about seeing You get hacked to