A Queen of Gilded Horns (A River of Royal Blood #2) - Amanda Joy Page 0,118

with the Elderi seated in high-backed chairs arranged in a semicircle on a raised dais, with Mother Ysai at the center. She looked different from the last time I’d seen her; Baccha had told me she also possessed Khimaerani’s gift.

Daischa and her sons were given positions of prominence beside the dais. Dthazi winked at me and elbowed Aketo, who met my gaze, smiling slightly.

I reminded myself that even if I failed, making allies of the Tribe would be worth enduring this. I trusted the Elderi to ensure the people of Sher n’Cai weren’t massacred in my absence.

I stood before the dais, hands behind my back, and recited the words Baccha had told me: “I present myself, Evalina Grace Killeen, to the wisdom of the Elderi Council. I pray to be worthy of your approval, but if I am not, I pray you find another to sit on the Ivory Throne.”

I don’t know what I expected in reply, but the Elderi at Ysai’s left side rose from his seat, leaning on a gnarled walking stick.

“The first of your trials is a feat of magick,” intoned Eramin, the oldest among the Elderi, with a bull snout and twitching bovine ears that looked diminutive among his nest of gray coils.

“A feat?” I echoed. “What sort of feat?”

Arsa, the cranelike woman whom I’d met the day of their arrival, said, “The Hunter tells us you have been blessed by Khimaerani. We request a feat of magick to prove it, Your Highness.”

Oh.

That.

I closed my eyes; sketches from Queen Assani’s On Mutable Flesh floated through my thoughts. I had thought long on my chosen form, considering all the beauty I had encountered in Sher n’Cai these last weeks.

The sunlight on Daischa’s scales; the ropes of her sable braids. Dthazi’s large eyes that could see in the dark, and the fangs that poked out of Aketo’s mouth when he pouted. Otho’s chunky fists and kicking hooves. Baccha’s fine-boned face peeking out from his curtain of hair as he bounced Otho on his knee. Tufted tails and deft wings. Springy antelope forelegs covered in soft fur.

An image began to coalesce in my mind. Winged and scaled and horned and clawed.

I opened my eyes, surprised to find a scaled tail wrapped around my waist. Its ebon scales ended in a flare of golden feathers to match the ones on the tips of my wings. I spread them wide and bowed at the waist.

I straightened and was surprised to find Eramin and the rest of the Elderi beaming.

“Most well done,” he thundered, stamping a cloven foot on the dais.

I heard the rustle of fabric behind me and froze at the sight of dozens of khimaer, and Baccha, kneeling on the floor. I gestured for them to rise, heat warming my face.

Arsa rose from her chair. “Your second trial is to settle a dispute between us.” She inclined her head toward Ysai, the only one who did not seem impressed by my display. I didn’t fault her; I, too, would not clap for something I had been doing for years. “You know that Lord Baccha has acted in service of the Tribe since the start of the Great War.”

“I do,” I agreed. I forced myself not to look behind me and see his reaction.

“Then you know that when he traveled to the South, he interfered with you despite our express commands. However, had he listened to us, we may not have learned of your magick. Should the Hunter have been . . . reprimanded for his inability to follow our directives, or should he be lauded?”

“If I recall correctly, you already have punished Baccha,” I said, trying to smother the stirrings of real anger. What did they expect, for me to condemn him? Baccha was a cool wind in the back of my mind, offering peace.

“Previous imprisonment notwithstanding,” Arsa said. “We would like to hear your assessment.”

I embraced the tranquility my friend offered and drew in a calming breath. “From what I’ve been told, Baccha swore to serve the Tribe because of his past sins. But he has been a great tool to you, because of his unique skill set. Is this true?”

“Yes,” Arsa agreed. “He is the last of the famed magickians.”

“So his obedience isn’t truly the real benefit you gained by sending Baccha to Ternain. If so, how can you expect him to follow orders without consideration for the circumstances? I found Baccha; he didn’t seek me out. And had he ignored our connection, that would’ve been in opposition