Z could imagine himself upon the ornate, shining steel throne that Queen Arantxa Earthbreaker had Metalworked herself. He’d imagined it a thousand times. The effortlessly royal pose he would strike, the outfit he’d be wearing, the crown that would rest upon his head. He could see it clearly. His languid figure, seated on cold steel, backed by the high, arched windows that constantly wept with the spray of Heaven’s Fall.
It was a forbidden thought, but Z had those all the time. He preferred them to the bidden ones. If he’d ever had the opportunity to be alone in the throne room—as alone as one could be with a dozen towering Metalwork statues staring at you from their spots between the columns running down the room—he might even have attempted to make that forbidden thought a forbidden action. But the throne room was only used to meet with the queen, and it was locked tight when she wasn’t there.
At least, it always had been before.
Z strode through the doors with as much confidence as he could manage, but a few paces down the thick blue rug that ran the length of the room, his steps slowed. He glanced around, looking for someone hiding behind one of those statues, but he saw, heard, and smelled no one. There was only the sound of spray tapping on the windows and his own breathing.
He was unsettled, but in that way he loved—the feeling that came from riding right up to the edge of Too Far, and then looking down, down, down. That rush.
Ears pricked, Z started forward. Toward that throne.
At the base of the stairs, he paused. He imagined a new scene, of him right here on this spot, on his knees beneath the stony gaze of the Steelsmith Queen on her throne. His figure, hunched forward over a slab, the tender back of his neck exposed. And beside him, his own mother in all her armor, great sword in hand. Lifted, ready to fall at the queen’s signal.
Fear ran through him like lightning, sending his heartbeat skittering. And a wicked glint lit his eyes. He smiled, and lifted his shining boot from the rug.
The door to the right of the throne slammed open, nearly making Z piss himself, and in his hurry to kneel he hit the edge of the first step with his knee hard enough that he had to bite his tongue to keep from swearing. He bowed his head, but … the sound of all that armor clanking across the stone at the top of the steps made him look up.
He’d been expecting Aran. He’d prepared for Aran. He’d chosen this face for her, rehearsed his story for her, run through every accusation she might throw his way and how he’d respond to it. He was confident he could charm Aran at least enough to keep his flesh mark-free.
He was not prepared to face his mother. Not right away.
A stone dropped heavy in his gut. Mom loved him—adored him even, but she was loyal with a fierceness that Z had never seen matched, and while she might tolerate all of Z’s indiscretions, his mischief, his Chaos, she did not tolerate incompetence. And she tolerated betrayal even less.
Not only that, but she knew all his tricks, his charms, his skill with silver tongue. He was fucked.
Grand Duchess Lona Vigore stopped in front of the throne to look down at her kneeling, sweating child—but it wasn’t the title of Grand Duchess that she wore on her expression. It was the title of General.
“Rise,” she said in that booming voice that filled the entire room, bouncing around the walls like each of the statues had echoed her.
Z rose, and made himself meet his mother’s eye.
Lona was already quite large, but her armor, which she lived in, made her the biggest person in almost any room she entered—at least since Daivad had left. The armor, like the throne behind her, had been crafted by the queen—the chest plate displayed the silver head of an eagle, its beak stretched wide, and the shoulder plates were shaped like shining wings. The back of her armor was covered by a thick blue cape, but Z knew it too was worked to look like layers of sharp feathers. For once, her blue-and-silver-plumed helmet was tucked under one arm instead of on her head, so Z could see that her short, dark hair had grown out a bit, one lock hanging down across her forehead.
Her brown eyes, usually warm when they fell upon her child, had been stoked to furious embers behind a cold, hard face.
“I expected Her Majesty,” Z said, and then, like a question, “I pray to the Light Mother that our queen is well?”
“Business begged Her Majesty to Ixhale. She’ll keep her judgment of your actions held against her chest until a full investigation has been performed.”
Z opened his mouth to release a dozen questions—what business did she have in Ixhale? when would she return? who would be investigating?—but quickly thought better of it. “I see.”
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He was so used to the clank of his mom’s armor that he didn’t even really hear it as she started, heavy, down the steps toward him. Dropping the formal tone but losing none of the sharpness, Mom said, “Explain, Z. That shame to the Earthbreaker name walked himself right into the grasp of the one our queen trusted with finding him, and what do you have to show for it? A broken city and two humiliated mothers.”
Z had always found it odd that Aran still privately considered herself Daivad’s mother—but he couldn’t contemplate that right now.
He told the story, never once mentioning Nyx or Jac, but otherwise simply stating the series of events. Had he been telling Aran the story, he might have tried to weight the blame for that disastrous night on Ubika, or the City Guard, and certainly they had not helped the situation, but Mom needed to see that Z knew he’d fucked up. Knew he’d failed, regardless of who got in his way. It was the only way she might believe he’d learned his lesson.
And it was the best way he could keep Nyx out of this. Even though she had very much put herself in it.
Mom listened to his story with ever-narrowing lips, punctuating the narrative with an occasional shake of her head. When he had finished, she asked, “And what reason can you name for Daivad’s presence in Luvatha on the very night you arrived there? When no one, save the queen, her most trusted advisors, and you yourself could name Luvatha as the place you’d be?”
Z very nearly balked, a lifetime of schooling his features the only thing that kept the surprise off his face. It wasn’t that he hadn’t expected the question—of course they would want an explanation for the Traitor Prince’s presence. It was the way she had phrased it. Did she actually suspect him?
“The only culprit that I can name Probable is Kure Ubika. The queen herself called him, commanded him to hunt Daivad down. Who but a traitor would run off after that? Whether he sent word to Daivad himself, or if he simply ran his mouth enough that word spread to Daivad…” Z shook his head, shrugged one shoulder.
“You believe Ubika leaked his purpose? And Daivad just happened to arrive right as you did?”
“As you said,” Z answered, “the other options are the queen, her advisors, or me. I know it wasn’t my mouth that called him.”
She considered this with a hard frown, taking a few steps around him. “What about Prince Richard’s pet? Or Cuppedia’s?”
“They were with me from the moment I named my purpose to them. They couldn’t have sent word…”
It was only then that it clicked in Z’s mind, even though he didn’t want it to. He’d ignored the knowledge that had been floating loose around his head because he didn’t want to know, but now, unbidden, it all fell into place. Nyx’s missing time away from Quiet House, the way her crushing mood had shifted the moment he’d told her what he needed her for. It would have taken her mere minutes to call Julius and send him off with a message.
He’d known Nyx had interacted with Daivad outside Luvatha’s gate, their mingled scents on that battleground were more than obvious. But he had assumed it was about helping the little thief escape. It wouldn’t have surprised Z in the least to think Nyx would choose not to turn the Traitor Prince in, would have allowed him to escape. But he’d never thought she’d be so brazen as to seek him out. To actively help him.
To knowingly, intentionally put Z in this position.
“There will be a full investigation into this, Z,” Mom said in that booming voice of hers. “Arantxa will see to that, and even if she didn’t, I would.”
“Yes, sir.” He struggled to resist the urge to bow his head, to hide his eyes in case they revealed too much. She would be disgusted if he cowered, so he simply nodded.
“Whether or not you’re at fault for Daivad’s presence there, you should have been able to apprehend him. And whether or not you apprehended him, you should have been able to keep him from destroying half the fucking city. From making yet another mockery of this queendom, so soon after he apparently took the camp at Duxon single-handed.”
“Yes, sir.”
“You can name the prescribed fate of the heads of the camps that fail to withstand Daivad’s attacks, can’t you?”
Z tried to act like it scared him to even say it: “Execution.”
“For their incompetence. As they should be.”
But Z knew he wasn’t about to be executed—not set loose in the sands of the Arena with a handful of starving monsters, nor even just disposed of in silence somewhere. His mother, furious and disappointed as she might be, wouldn’t let that happen. He was in trouble, but he would survive.
“If you were anyone but who you are, your fate would be named the same.”
“Yes, sir.”
Mom paused, and Z wavered under her gaze. He heard the quickening of her heartbeat from within her polished armor. And then a new scent was washing off her, overtaking the anger from before. Fear.
Quickly, as if her words could cover the scent, she said, “You will stay within Eagle House’s walls until the queen returns with her decision. You will not have visitors. You will not sneak away to Muse House. You will not let even one little toe beyond our doors.”
But Z’s belly was twisting—what was she so afraid of? He dared to prod, “Name it, Mom.”
“Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir.” He searched her eyes, and just found more fear in them. “Name it. Has Her Majesty already decided my fate?”
The muscles in her jaw worked and her dark brow furrowed. But her only answer was, “Z, before you go to Eagle House, find Auxica in the temple. And pray that this investigation concludes in your favor.”