“We need to talk,” I began, once alone—as alone as we could get. Her expression tightened, as she grabbed at her own arm. I eyed it uncertainly, wondering if she would start scratching at it. “Why are you here? Nania, what the Hell, you said you were going to leave, is this—what is this?”

“How does it feel?” she immediately bit out.

“How does wha—”

“Like the ground is all flooded, and you have no idea where safe land is? Confusing, baffling, storm-tossed?” she asked.

Forcibly I narrowed my eyes. “You returned just to get back at me? Isn’t that a little immature, even for you?”

She opened her mouth, about to give some retort, before hesitating, thinking. “You’re right. I’m not just here to get back at you, Ellie—but I’m not above enjoying it.”

“What did you do. Did you actually spread those rumors—? Nia—”

“Everything is under control, Elian,” she interrupted again. “You won’t have to worry about Lordrin or Forya, not again.”

“I thought you wanted to leave.”

“I thought you wanted to come with us,” she retaliated. But there was no venom in her voice, not this time—she seemed exhausted. If she was so tired, why was she still here? There was something I was missing. “Why can’t you? This place won’t thank you, you know.”

Perhaps her curiosity had backfired on me. If I gave her the answers she desired, the same answers I had given Talon, they probably would be enough to drive her away. But was that a conversation to have here, with Shrike, Lordrin, and guards and maids around the corner?

Especially when Lordrin already knew what I was.

“I—” I swallowed, and spoke a little more honestly than I meant. “I have to try. You know I have to try, right?”

Her expression then seemed to soften. She opened her mouth to say something—and around the corner a commotion broke out. I swore, darting back to Lordrin and the gathered guards—and found the worst possible thing had happened.

I failed to notice her approach at all. Not her own guards, not her retinue of servants and Priestesses. The retinue announcing the approach of Head Priestess Forya. Lordrin’s blood mother.

The maids quickly finished cleaning and left. I almost envied them, as sharp pain stabbed my skull. But leaving wasn’t possible. As she stood in the hall surrounded by her servants and retinue, coolly examining the situation, I knew I had to end this swiftly.

“Head Priestess Forya,” I greeted pleasantly, then bit down a yelp. My right fist had clenched too hard, sending little bolts of pain up my arm. Still, the sensation was almost grounding. I clenched that first again. “As you can see, this unfortunate situation is well in hand. Your son is being escorted back to his quarters now, and the proper people will receive justice.”

“It’s slander! It hurts you too! Do something about it!” snapped Lordrin, suddenly appearing much more smug now that his mother was here.

Forya and Lordrin, though flesh and blood, did not look particularly alike. Lordrin appeared to take after his father and uncle in height, frame, and bulk, as well as in the tanned hue of his skin and bronzed-auburn hair. The only trait he shared with his sleight-of-frame mother were their piercing green eyes, a brighter, almost supernatural shade compared to Nania’s—but while his eyes burned with hate, Forya’s spoke of northern chill.

That chill now seemed to affect everyone as she continued to slowly analyze the scene. When Lordrin spoke, she gave the most imperceptible of frowns, but otherwise did not seem to take notice.

Then finally her gaze lighted on Shrike, and her frown became a complete grimace.

“Well in hand, you say?” she asked flatly. “Because it does not appear ‘well in hand’ at all to me. Not when an Angran sacrifice is roaming the halls.”

“I have ended the practice of sacrifices. He is here to help me with the situation.”

“And you took this one? Instead of relying upon the city’s fine guards, specifically trained for instances such as this? Do you not have history, a rapport, with them?” Chill green eyes narrowed.

I bit my lip. I knew how this might have appeared to an outsider, but that outsider being Forya made it clear just how bad it could look. A king relying on foreigners rather than his own citizens. Still, I could not back down now. I could not appear weak. “I have a history with the military, not the guards. The military is better disciplined compared to the guards, who were the ones to incite this whole affair.”

“I did not think of the military as well-disciplined, strange. Are they not the ones with a reputation for drinking and bedding their fellow soldiers?” Forya tutted, tilting her head in a parody of sympathy. “Even you have something of a reputation, if I understand correctly.”

“You’ll find I’m quite unlike that reputation.”

“Quite. Though Head Menone may still have a soft spot for you—” she paused, causing me to wonder what else she believed Head Menone thought of me “—I do remember which child was occasionally spotted with my Priestess Candidate. And speaking of—” here she turned to Nania “—I have said it before.

“You have never, will never, convince me otherwise. You were never fit to be Head Priestess, and Lordrin only considered you for the role to spite me. You should not even be a Priestess. I may not have control over who the Crowns favor. But I do have control over my Priestesses. For usage of Hell Magic and assault upon the Head Priestess, as you have not been banished from the city, I take it upon myself to strip you of your status as Priestess. Effective immediately.”

Lordrin’s smug expression remained firm on his face. If anything, it was entrenched into the grooves of his face more deeply.

Nania’s face went through a journey of complicated expressions. Days ago I knew the news would have delighted her. Becoming a Priestess had never been her dream. But now, something in her seemed to have changed, as her face finally settled on a mixture of grief, frustration, and rage, tears lining her eyes. She stepped forwards, hands clenched.

“How dare you!” she snapped. “You wouldn’t let me go when I asked to be released, you did nothing to punish those girls who tormented me—and now that it doesn’t suit you, you’re just dismissing me!?”

“Because you have repeatedly proved yourself a danger to all those around you,” Forya dismissed calmly. “Including myself. It’s a crime to assault the Head Priestess.”

“And it isn’t a crime to poison the King!?”

“It is also a crime to baselessly slander the Head Priestess—”

From the corner of my eye, Lordrin grinned wickedly.

“Don’t stop at stripping her of status. Punish her properly!” he barked.

It was his mistake, as now Forya’s cold eyes turned on him. “And Lordrin. My son. I had thought I raised you better, but you seem determined to prove me wrong at each and every turn,” she said. It was not a raging lecture, nor was it a weary sigh. The words were spoken in a small, tight voice. Almost as if it really did pain her.

Lordrin’s eyes narrowed a fraction, as if he were working through second thoughts. His mouth opened, then closed, then opened again. The boy took a deep breath.

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“Don’t call me your son. You know I’m not your son,” he said, in an equally tight voice, nearly breaking. He seemed to realize rage would get him nothing here.

A look of almost panic flashed across Forya’s face, but that couldn’t be right. “I knew you were disobedient, but how could you be so foolish, too? Of course I am your mo—”

“Don’t be ridiculous! I know you birthed me! You cling to power like a child’s beloved toy, there’s no way you wouldn’t!” he roared, cutting her off. “But are you going to work with me or not?”

“Don’t speak to me with that tone. You’re my son when it suits you, and Crown Naruune’s when it doesn’t.”

“Don’t speak as though you don’t do the same.”

“I don’t. I have always claimed you as my son, even when you were no longer the Crown-son. You claim I need you, but do I truly need one whom the gods so easily discarded?” she hissed, voice still low.

“Yes! Because you can’t control a Fiendspawn from nowhere,” continued Lordrin. “I can speak to you however I please because I am not your pawn, I am your king! And—and it’s time you treat me as such! It’s time you stop getting in my way!”

“I made you, child. I gave you everything. It is because of me you even exist. It is because of me, my devotion, my sacrifices, that you have enjoyed a life of such luxury.”

“Not luxury—responsibility! It is a king’s duty to make this city prosper and advance, not cling to luxury and tradition,” Lordrin sneered.

Forya only scoffed. Then she snapped her fingers at the attending guards. “Escort the Angran—and the other ones—back to its cells,” she said, “and you, Sarya. You must have chores to do, mustn’t you, girl?”

The young Priestess, Sarya, bowed deeply. Shrike seemed apprehensive about leaving, but Sarya took him by the arm with surprising gentleness and guided him out before the guards could even lay a hand on him, casting a solitary eye backward towards her apparent friend. Nania watched, trembling with some emotion, as they and the guards departed.

The three of us were left alone with Forya. Though nothing kept Lordrin pinned any longer, he made no attempt to fight or flee, simply staring his mother down.

“Too proud to bow down to me in public, Mother?” he asked.

When the others had left earshot, Forya unfroze with a sigh, drifting through the hall with her hands behind her back. “You are more similar to your replacement than you could ever hope to realize,” she said, seemingly to Lordrin. “You both believe the world should stop, simply because you command it so. Not realizing that these checks and balances exist for a purpose.”

She suddenly spun about, advancing on Nania. Despite herself, the girl shrunk back, and I moved between the two. Still, the older woman stared through me as though I were mere air. My body seemed very far away.

“So, shall we change the way our new Head Priestesses are selected? As Lordrin seems to think would be a good idea, shall we introduce brutish Angran arts into the Temple?” she asked, voice oozing with venom. “We’ll let the Priestesses speak with fists rather than words. And when such lawlessness spreads outside this most sacred of spaces, like a rot, the guards and soldiers will take it as permission to do as they please. To take what they wish. Because the Crowns’ wishes be damned, the King cannot beat them back without choreography, is it not the case?”

“I don’t—that’s a lie, you’re just saying things—!” Nania stammered. Suddenly she sounded like she had years ago, rather than the more confident and even aggressive woman she had grown to become. “That’s—you don’t know it’ll happen! That’s just—when I, like when I think about all the—the—the ridiculous ways something can go wrong, in the stupidest, silliest ways—”

But Forya gave her no answer. Finally she addressed me. “I always thought it strange, that our kind were not allowed to truly rule as kings, when I am sure many of them were the hands that moved the Crown-sons. The soldiers would say it’s because we are too weak--too womanly. But no, it’s not us. Simply you.” He green eyes pinned me as well as any throwing axe, and everything became very distant and hazy. Not here. Not here. Not here.

Forya continued, “You are the ones the gods have chosen, and I trust there is a reason for that--look at how you’ve already convinced others to abolish the Rite. But to think you can end the war--no. You’ll only make a true King with a Head Priestess guiding you. Don’t take it as a remark on your masculinity, it will still be your name they sing, after all.”

“I—” My voice sounded distant. “That’s not what I—”

She glared down, an imperious smirk barely visible on her face. “Do you think me a fool? Did you think I wouldn’t remember what you came to this temple for, years ago? Perhaps times really are changing--but it wasn’t because of you. Do not think yourself so special. Everything is the result of that which came before, the seeds that your ancestors planted and everything they sacrificed to see the promised harvest bloom. If the gods had noticed what was growing when I was a young woman…”

Her mouth tightened.

Finally she turned her gaze away from the Fiendspawn and ex-Priestess, gazing at Lordrin.

He met her gaze with a glare of his own. “You did not make me, I am the rightful heir of this kingdom. I am my father’s son,” he said, “and I don’t need you. I need no hand moving me, I have been moving myself since father’s death.”

“You will always need me, until the day I die. And you have always known this,” she said, almost sighing. “You struggle and flail at independence. You define yourself in how you think yourself my opposite. But when you lose everything, now you come crawling back to me, to reclaim all you think you deserve.”

“I don’t crawl!”

“So when that girl Dennia visited you, did you refute her help, knowing your city would be delivered back to you by the grace of the Crowns?”

His mouth twitched slightly. “You—you did send her?”

“I did not know she came to you at all. Not until you confirmed it for me. But it does explain matters neatly.” She looked meaningfully toward me the Crown-son.

Lordrin’s expression fell. Then his cheeks turned red, teeth grinding together. Then he surged forward, hand raised. Forya stumbled, moving to block the incoming blow, only for Lordrin to stop himself at the very last second. Still, Forya’s eyes were left widened, her limbs trembling.

Again, she scoffed. “Really, Lordrin. Another temper tantrum. And this time you lack even the decency to hide it beneath politics and wit.”

“I—I do not throw temper tantrums!”

“So why did you fixate so heavily on one insignificant and untalented girl, who need resort to Hell Magic to cheat,” she returned, moving away from him.

“I—I reject you as my mother! You were a true Head Priestess, and could never be my mother! You will never have a mother’s love. That is reserved for Crown Naruune,” Lordrin shouted.

“Oh, will you be silent! You are no Crown-son, I am all you have! You claim I need you, but you have always needed me far more!” she finally shouted back.

It was enough to snap me from my daze. Cautiously I worked my jaw.

“The rumors were true,” said Nania.

Forya straightened her spine, face a fragile mask. Like looking in a mirror. “Absolutely not. Everyone knows them to be utter foolishness. And—and if you do tell a soul, there are things I know which could see any of you exiled. Or worse,” she said. Though her voice remained as cool and calm as ever to the untrained ear, I detected a faint tremor.

The King, the Fiendspawn, stepped forwards. “No you won’t,” he said. “Because to do so would be to admit you were wrong. That you were wrong about so much more than just who the Crowns favored, or the status of the Angrans.” He swallowed.

“I am a man. I may not have been born one, but—everyone who knows me, knows me as a man. This is the way I contribute to my city. Not as a mother or father does, but as a warrior, a king, a man. And…if you were to say such a thing, it would damage your base of power as surely as mine.” Hazel eyes narrowed. “Some would do it anyways. But not you. So long as there is the slightest chance you might someday regain your power, I don’t think you would ever give it up. I’m not sure if it’s perseverance or cowardice, but…” He made eye contact with first Lordrin, then Nania. “It is her. Right?”

Lordrin did not meet his eyes. He glared down the Head Priestess, looking as though if he opened his mouth, an entire hurricane would spill out. So he kept his lips sealed as tightly as possible, even has his cheeks grew ruddy and his clenched fists trembled. For a moment, it really did seem like he was about to throw a tantrum, to beat the woman until they were both bloody.

Then he shattered before the Crown-son’s very eyes. His green eyes turned dull, blank, empty. Though the boy stayed on his feet, it was a very near thing as his whole body went slack, swaying. Auburn hair hung loosely, obscuring his eyes as his gaze fell to the floor. Nania looked away, refusing to meet the Crown-son’s eyes.

Forya had gone very pale now, glancing between the former Crown-son and the current. “The gods will remember what I have done for them,” she whispered, but her voice had gone hollow too. “I have given everything to this city for decades.”

“And much has changed for it in mere days,” the king said.

“She confessed to infidelity against the King,” said Sarya, her voice as cheerful as a Heishanese avalanche. Again, I turned—to find the girl had returned, along with Shrike and several guards. It seemed all had remained within earshot after all.

Forya flushed. “I—No, you have no evidence of this, only those ridiculous stories—”

“We have a witness,” said Sarya. “Lordrin?”

Lordrin looked up at the sound of his name, but said nothing. When a guard touched him to escort him back to his rooms, he briefly made to snap at him, but stopped short of reminding the guard who he was, the hollow looked returned to his eyes. He was led away from the scene with no further fuss. Forya, too, was led away. The objections she made were just enough to put up a show of pridefulness, of dignity--even now she believed this wasn’t the end. Sarya seemed entirely too smug about this turn of events, exchanging a quick talk with Nania before leaving. Shrike said nothing, but offered me a quick nod, then made himself scarce.

When all had left, Nania tried to catch my eye. I refused to meet it. There would be justice. Later. None of us would be happy with its outcomes. It would be over then. As of now, all I desired was to plod back to my decadent new bedchambers and collapse upon the entirely-too-large bed.

But I had still not gotten the Angrans returned to their home villages.

So I left Nania to her own devices, stumbling through the halls and feeling as a Restless. An empty ghost risen from the grave, a hollow facsimile of my normal self. But wasn’t that always the case?

Pulling myself up on two feet and spending the bare minimum of time fixing my short hair and skewed horned crown, I trudged to find the Angrans once more.