“You punched the Head Priestess,” echoed Elian.

My friend pressed one scarred hand to his forehead as he paced a hole in the palace’s stone floor. Anxiously I sat like a scolded child, finding it impossible not to remember how we used to laugh about these sorts of antics. The ways that, hopping about the rooftops, I used to narrowly avoid getting assigned chores by my teachers, even by the Head Priestess. Talon had taken great amusement in these tales, too. Neither of us were laughing now.

I missed Talon. Perhaps he would have seen the humor.

“You punched the Head Priestess,” Elian repeated again, for what must have been the fourth time. He stopped, finally turning to me in full. “Should I have released you from imprisonment at all?”

“You’re not going to send me back,” I said quickly.

“I wouldn’t have needed to order you sent back! I had to order the guards not to lock you up again!” he returned. “Nia—you know how hard it’s been for me, right? If I didn’t have Menone’s support, if I didn’t have a Crown’s support, no one here would listen to me! I want to run around punching people, forcing them to do whatever I want too—but I can’t! Because if I do, they’ll call me uncontrollable, dangerous, give me a reason to kick me out! I’ve told you this!”

“You still haven’t told me how you earned a Crown’s favor.”

“Quiet, Nania, I am speaking,” he said, nearly shouting. His hazel eyes had gone cold. “How many times have I listened to you? Now you listen to me.”

“I would, if you ever said anything meaningful!” I leapt to my feet. “I thought you were such a good listener when I was young—were you really, or did you just tell me what I wanted to hear? Did you even care?”

“No.”

I stopped, staring Elian in the face. For once it seemed unreadable. Cold and stoic, not a hint of a smile.

“I don’t care what you have to say anymore, Nania. All the things you say, what Forya might do to me—I’ve thought about it already. It’s not an issue, it won’t be how I die.” He hesitated. “And before you say I can just leave, I don’t need to be king—Talon’s not the only person Angran kept here I need to see safe. But he’s the only one you care about, right?”

My hands clenched into fists as I opened my mouth, closed it, opened it again.

“You’ve always wanted to leave. You said it again and again. I was listening then,” said Elian, “so go.”

Teeth bit down upon the inner wall of my cheek, stabbing hard. Still, I said nothing. For the second time today, I turned on my heel and left.

“Shall I call for an escort of guards?” came his voice from behind me.

I hesitated, then replied, “Don’t bother.” I knew the way to leave the city, had walked it a dozen times with his help, after all. The ghosts of those lingering days seemed to haunt me as I retraced familiar steps.

Everything today was just too much. Confusion spun my head and anger still writhed in my stomach. Worst of all, as uncharacteristically cruel as Elian had been, I knew he was right.

There was one thing that Elian was wrong about, though. If the life of a Head Priestess did not suit me, then the life of a King suited him no better. So why did he get to stay here are torture himself? Why did he get to pretend like he had a point? One way or another, I knew he would not last as a King. But I’d said everything I could think of, and there was no way to either make him leave or let me stay. Especially not as emotional as I was right now.

I’d tried hard enough to keep Talon from dying. I guess, with Elian’s help, I had succeeded. Perhaps I was just being selfish; perhaps I should be thankful one would survive and just leave. Perhaps his Crown patron would be the one to keep my friend safe, instead.

With a blank mind and dull eyes I stumbled through the streets, heading for the exit of the city, the River Ter…the Deep Woods. Talon might be waiting for me there, wouldn’t he? He must have. They wouldn’t both want me driven away, would they? If both were gone, I wouldn’t know what to do. As I began to think on where Talon would have gone if he weren’t waiting for me, a familiar voice snapped me out of my thoughts.

“Er, gosh, Nia…fancy runnin’ into you here.”

For one extremely foolish moment, I thought Ellie had followed me. Who else would I allow to call me by that nickname? But then I recognized Sarya, and my expression dropped. A flash of familiar anger surged awake, flooding my limbs. “Are you—are you following me?”

“Not on purpose. Y’think you’re the only one who leaves the temple? Though I try to wait for permission.” She smirked, or perhaps it was more of a good-natured grin. Hard to tell. “I enjoy the marketplace. It’s a great place to hear—”

“Gossip?” I sniffed.

She sighed, heavily, as though she’d been the one to have a rough day.

…Perhaps she had. Just as quickly as it had come, the anger abandoned me. I was just…too tired for an argument, now.

“I really, truly don’t remember a time when you tried to befriend me, or approached me with kindness. Or approached me alone at all, really,” I said, my tone dead and exhausted.

Some light in Sarya’s eyes seemed to dim slightly. “...S’pose it’s been a while since I tried.”

“All the times I remember seeing you before today, your friends—the other Candidates you hung out with—they’d taunt me, take my food, muddy my clothes, humiliate me in front of the teachers…” I shook my head, pressing one palm against my temple. “No one seemed to care. They had decided I didn’t care, so why should I try? But now I do find myself caring. Even if it’s for the wrong reasons, apparently. I…am sorry, for being cruel to you earlier. You could have chosen your words more carefully, but you had a point.”

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“Not all of us could just leave, y’know,” Sarya replied. “But…I am sorry too for what I did, with Dennia. Sticking by her just seemed safer.”

“I can’t see how anyone could call her safe, but…I would do a lot to feel safe.” I sighed. “Again, sorry.”

“Are you gonna do it again?”

“No, I just—” Suddenly my face felt hot. My eyes especially. Something liquid slid down my cheek. “I don’t—it’s just—it’s just all confusing and he won’t even really talk to me no one will tell me anything about Talon and I don’t know what’s going on or what to do…”

“Oh—oh, uh—” At this, Sarya actually looked rather flustered. She glanced around, then quickly offered me something from her basket. “Er…you like sweet buns, sweetie?”

I blinked in bafflement. Tears still fell down my cheeks, but…what? We had only just made up.

Sarya scratched behind her ear, laughing awkwardly. “Let’s, er. Let’s go somewhere less crowded.”

When I was younger and upset, Elian would not speak much. He’d allow me to just tire myself out complaining, nodding every so often or offering a hug. Talon took a similar approach, training or jogging with me, or even trying to climb the Deep Woods’ massive trees. Sarya was entirely different from either of them. Instead, she spoke endlessly, about anything and everything, occasionally handing me sweet buns to occupy my mouth with. I enjoyed it a little more than I thought I would. Once or twice, she tried to bring the topic around to questions for me, such as my relationship with Talon, or the nature of my ‘Hell’ magic. When I made it clear I didn’t wish to speak of either, she backed off quickly. Though I was willing to give her a second chance, I wasn’t willing to trust her so much just yet.

Eventually she did circle back around to me, with a topic I was willing to discuss with someone: what had set me crying in the first place.

“I’ve always been afraid for Elian, ever since he joined the army—which wasn’t that long after we met,” I admitted. “I know I was the one with dangerous hobbies, like walking on rooftops, but it was just different with him. I never liked the idea of him or Talon fighting each other, of them maybe someday killing each other. And now—and now I have to worry about him when he’s off the battlefield, too? He almost died, and it’s like he doesn’t care! It’s like he thinks he’s immortal!” I rubbed absently at my eyes, only to find them dry, puffy, stinging. “Sorry, I’m not trying to be rude…I just can’t see how a pack of lies is gonna help with this.”

“Gossip isn’t a pack of lies. Sure it’s not good to take ‘em for pure truth, but sometimes there’s elements of truth in ‘em,” Sarya said, running one hand along a low wall of bricks in slow, languid sweeps. “And besides. It’s useful to know what people are saying about you. Tell the right stories and you can destroy a person.”

“Really? That sounds…fake.”

She laughed. “Hey, Nia—”

“Just Nania.”

“—do you really believe all the stories they tell us, that we tell Crown Naruune? About Reane, and Onaiga, and Orioselaine, and all the others? You think we tell them because they’re true?”

“I…assumed,” I said cautiously. “A way to keep them alive.”

“I don’t think they’re true at all. The dragons may exist, but I don’t think Reane and Onaiga did,” Sarya said seriously. “Maybe people like ‘em did. But…people don’t talk all fancy-like, the way they do in the stories. All melodramatic. Or, that’s what I would’ve said ‘fore I met you, using Hell Magic to rescue your Angran lover.” She gave me what I was now sure was a good-natured grin.

“It wasn’t Hell Magic,” I muttered.

“See? It doesn’t matter what Reane and Onaiga were like in the end. Just that as they are right now, it made for a good story. A story good enough that it makes Crown Naruune cry—and rain fall. And that rain is real enough to me.”

My brows furrowed slightly. “Okay. I hadn’t considered that before. So what you’re saying is…”

“You’re an interesting person, Nia. You’d make a great character in a story. But the best Head Priestesses aren’t characters, they’re the storytellers. Dennia and Forya, they know how to craft a story. Not just move around behind the stage, but gather all the information, and frame it just right. You’re like them in some ways, but not in the right ones.” She grinned. “If you were in the audience hearing the story, which ways do you think it would go?”

“Well, knowing the stories popular in the temple, something like a great sacrifice that made the Crowns weep? Oh, and then the gods were so moved they swept in and fixed everything, too late for our heroes to enjoy. But we’ll remember their names forever, so it’s okay,” I sighed.

“Hm. You’re actually a big downer, y’know? It doesn’t have to go like that, though, ‘cause here’s a secret: this story’s not done being told yet.” A mischievous gleam appeared in Sarya’s eye. “There are two ways this can be remembered. One, a miracle happened. A new Crown descended and chose a new Crown-son, who ushered us into a new age of prosperity. Two…” Here eyes darted from side to side as her voice dropped in volume. “Two, weird things have been happening. Drought, heat waves, Hell Magic. A culprit’s found when the Sun Fiend places an impostor on the throne.”

My stomach dropped. “It’s not—it can’t be, can it? If she could make people think that, Forya would be telling people that, would she?”

“And what would that say about her? That your King was right about one thing: the Rite of Sunset is useless, because the Sun Fiend appeared right in the throne room. People will do crazy things to feel safe. So what story does she need to tell, instead?”

My face twisted, as I racked my brain. “An…assassination. A tragedy. No suspicion is cast on the Crowns or their choice, and maybe some of his decrees are kept…but he’s no longer in the way. So to get Forya out of the way…we need to make her look weak? Or untrustworthy? Cast doubt on if she ever held the Crowns’ favor at all?”

Sarya’s grin practically split her face. “Now you’re thinking like a Head Priestess.”

To my surprise, something fluttered in my stomach just then; a similar feeling as to the first time Talon praised me when training. When I had been released from house arrest, I had been so confused and distraught. Now, I felt I was beginning to understand the picture, even if my outburst and its fallout left me worried if I truly would make a good Head Priestess.

It would be easy to run to Talon, and check on him. I did still worry. But more than him, I worried what would happen to Elian. Talon wasn’t the one at risk of assassination or political manipulation. Still, if I were to walk this path, I was beginning to realize I may need help, a reliable source of information and a confidante who wasn’t Ellie. Before I could say I truly had such a thing, however, I had questions that needed answering.

“Sarya, why did you go looking for me?” I asked. “Why not choose Dennia? Surely that would’ve been much safer. You said you couldn’t exactly leave, so why…”

That question seemed to give Dennia pause. She drummed her fingers upon the low wall, eyes darting away from me and up towards the vast, azure sky.

“S’pose I wanted to be the first to hear how your story ended,” she finally said. “Dennia would’ve been safer. But I can’t say how much longer she’ll be able to play it safe for. Now seems like the time to start taking risks, y’know?”