"If you ever make an enemy of a High Priestess, don't touch her. She may turn you into a frog or worse."

Interview with Queen Shikra III, as told to Master Anwen

Lord Avon noticed her distraction on the journey back. They'd retired to the cabin as the sun set, but she couldn't sit still. She tried to read a book and failed, then she stared out of the tiny port window and saw nothing but choppy waves, then she tried to eat, but she'd lost her appetite.

He poured himself a glass of wine and gestured to the empty seat opposite him. "Sit. Are you quite well? You seem out of sorts."

She sat and fiddled with her hands in her lap. "I'm fine, my lord." Then she hesitated. She was supposed to be a spy. When she hadn't been preoccupied by the mystery of the strange woman and the silvertree graveyard, she'd been thinking about Prince Bakra's message. If she wanted to get close to Avon, she had to let him in. "I..."

He leaned forward, clasping his hands on the table. "What is it?"

"Lord Dryden said something strange to me while we were in Enyr," she said, dredging up the memory that had seemed so significant at the time but had paled in comparison to everything after. "He... he didn't want me to perform this magic for you."

"Didn't he," Avon murmured. "Did he say anything else?"

"He seemed to misunderstand the situation," she said carefully. "I think he believed that I'd convinced you to open the temple, like it was some kind of nefarious trick."

"Does he believe you're a wicked witch out to seduce me?"

She was so surprised she laughed. "That's... very close to what he said, yes."

Avon smiled. "Dryden said something similar to me. Fortunately, we both know better. Did his opinion concern you?"

"He just seemed so against magic."

"Most Drakonians are."

"But not you?"

"Maskamere has benefited from magic for centuries. We Drakonians fear what we cannot control. I intend to change that."

She dug her fingers into her palms. "You want to control magic?"

"As I control you. I believe magic has a place in Maskamere's future. Even the Empire's."

She fell silent, considering that. He meant under the Empire's control. Magic as a resource to be exploited like everything else in Maskamere.

"You could be part of that," Avon went on. "If you chose to serve me, you would never want for anything. You could do your people a lot of good."

"That's not the tempting offer you think it is."

"All right, then." He leaned back in his chair. "Be honest with me, Valerie. Why did you ask for the silvertree's power? What is it that you want?"

"I want to kill you."

"Well, that's a non-starter."

He was being awfully nonchalant about it, as if he didn't even consider her a threat. "It's the truth, my lord."

"It's a waste of your time to cling to a lost cause. When the resistance falls apart, which it will, what do you think will happen then?"

"Who says the resistance will fall apart?"

He waved a hand. "Indulge me."

She sighed, shifting in her chair. It wasn't pleasant to think about what might happen if they failed. If she served the full term of her repentance with Avon, she would be thirty-eight by the time he released her. She couldn't imagine what that would be like. Perhaps she would give in to him, if only to avoid sleeping alone.

"You'll get everything you want," she said at length. "The rest of us will suffer."

"Not if I can help it."

She frowned. "Then what?"

"I'm a public servant," said Avon. "My father is the Emperor of Drakon. From my earliest years, I was trained to serve the Empire. I joined my first battle when I was sixteen and killed my first man. I married a woman I'd been betrothed to since I was ten."

"The woman who passed away."

He nodded. "She died in childbirth, leaving behind our son."

His son had come into the world without a mother. She felt a stab of sympathy for that. Did he have aunts, uncles, cousins, and siblings to love and take care of him? A grandmother to lead him? That was how it worked in Maskamere. Every child was brought up by the entire family.

"My father declared me Chancellor of Maskamere," Avon went on. "The situation here has been mishandled from the start. I hope to change that."

"Are you saying you didn't want to invade Maskamere? You had no choice?"

"I'm saying that what I wanted didn't matter," said Avon quietly. "I live by my duty. But the Empire can be a force for good. Maskamere deserves to see that. There's no reason for your people to suffer."

He had the gall to say that after everything they'd destroyed. Markus was an orphan who'd pledged himself fully to Bakra's cause because he didn't have anything else left. She'd been orphaned too, fortunate to have been taken in by another branch of the family. There were countless stories like that.

She shook her head. "A force for good? Burning villages, killing civilians, destroying the silvertrees. You call that good?"

"I call that war," said Avon. "Yes, there is suffering in war. The important part is what happens after."

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"You take your spoils. You force us into your way of living."

"Do you consider that bad?"

"Yes, it's bad!" She was growing in confidence, her voice stronger. At least he was having an actual conversation with her. Whether she'd learn anything useful to pass to the resistance, she didn't know, but it was a start. "It's never stopped being bad! When have you Drakonians ever done anything for us?"

"We are a civilising people. We bring the benefits of natural philosophy, divinity, commerce, and the sanctity of marriage between a man and a woman."

"What about the sanctity of the silvertrees? The things that we consider sacred?"

"I would like to see a Maskamere with the silvertrees restored. Even the priesthood, though not in the form it once was."

"What does that mean?"

It was the second time he'd alluded to it. Voicing her own ambition back to her, though she couldn't imagine that their visions for the future of Maskamere were anything alike.

Avon sipped his wine before explaining. "The priesthood existed to uphold the rule of the monarchy. It was a successful system. But any system can be replaced. The Drakonian Empire is the most powerful in the world because we understand that the old structures must be removed and new structures must be put in their place. If we were to restore the priesthood, it would need to serve us, not the royal family."

"That's why you murdered the royal family and killed the priestesses."

The way he talked about it was so cold and academic, like something he'd learned out of a book.

He nodded. "That was our mistake. Every nation works differently. There are fundamental pillars you shouldn't destroy. We've spent two years trying to rebuild Maskamere from its shattered remains. The Empire can transform a country in five years. I believe in this case it will take at least ten, perhaps twenty years, if we succeed at all."

"Why?"

"Because we shouldn't have destroyed the silvertrees. We ripped away the heart of the nation, and as a result the population see us as nothing more than invaders."

Well, she couldn't disagree with that. "You are invaders."

"We were invaders. But Maskamere needs to move on from subjugation to a true vassal of the Empire."

"I'm still not hearing the part where any of this is good for us."

"We'll bring security, peace, and prosperity. All things Maskamere desperately needs."

"We had all those things before you invaded!"

"A connection to the wider world," Avon went on, unperturbed. "You were an isolated nation. Now you'll have access to Drakonian technology and learning."

"Which you could have shared without invading us."

He hissed out a breath through his teeth, showing a hint of impatience for the first time. "You don't even wish to consider that I might have a point."

"Can I tell you what I think?"

"You've been very frank so far."

She nearly smiled. True, a real spy might have been more subtle. She'd forgotten that, energised by their debate. More than once Kamila had accused her of enjoying arguments, like that was a bad thing.

She leaned forward. "I don't know if you're trying to convince me or yourself. The Empire isn't trying to help us, and you don't fool me with your talk of duty. You wanted something and you took it. Why don't you just admit that?"

There was a long moment of silence.

A candle flame flickered and sputtered on the table between them. He'd finished his wine; she hadn't touched hers.

Avon rose to his feet, the chair scraping behind him. "You do realise the royal family were exactly the same, if not worse."

She frowned. "I'm sorry?"

"The queen had absolute control over the people and the land when she was in power. If you consider that bad, you should hate her too."

"No..." She searched for the right words. "That's different. The queen embodies the spirit of Maskamere. She was chosen by the goldentree."

"Was she?"

"Yes."

He moved around behind the table to a bookcase, from which he picked out a heavy gold-lined book. Valerie recognised it: Maska's Testimonium, the story of the founding of Maskamere.

"Maska was the first of the royal line." Avon glanced down as he opened the first chapter. "She discovered the goldentree and founded Maskamere."

"I know."

Every child in Maskamere learned this story. She didn't understand what point he was making.

"And since then, who else has been granted the goldentree's gifts?"

"The royal family."

"Maska's descendants. Who else?"

"No one."

"Why not?"

"Because they were chosen."

"No. Because they chose not to share."

Valerie frowned. No, that wasn't right. The royal family had maintained their position as rulers of Maskamere for over a thousand years. No other dynasty in the world had lasted as long, according to the priestesses at the convent, which was proof if proof were needed of their royal heritage.

"A thousand years of rule isn't a mistake," she said. "It's proof that—"

"Anyone who claims power by birthright is a liar," Avon interrupted her. His voice rang out, his face alive with conviction. He was passionate about this. "In Drakon, we outgrew monarchy long ago. We choose our leaders."

"Then what right do you have to rule Maskamere?" Her voice trembled. "We didn't choose you."

A faint smile curved his mouth. He snapped the book shut, returning it to the shelf, then turned around. "Come here."

She'd remained in her seat, the table acting as a barrier between them. Now she stared at him for a moment before standing up. Something in the air had charged, an anticipation that pulled her nerves taut. The energy between them prickled into fear as she approached him. Avon held out his hand. She took it, and then he yanked her arm behind her back, holding her to him with his other arm around her waist.

Panic clawed at her. The same feeling that had crippled her during their dance practice: frozen muscles, shortness of breath, her heart thrumming in her chest like a bird in a cage.

"I claim Maskamere by right of conquest," he whispered in her ear. "Do you understand?"

She suppressed a gasp, shaking. "Yes."

"What was it you said? I wanted something and I took it."

His body pressed against hers. He's playing, she thought. Once her brain got over its warning signals, his grip was firm but not tight. A cruel game, but one she could play too.

She twisted her head, looking up at him. "Would you have taken me, if I wasn't a witch?"

His gaze flickered. "What do you think?"

"I think you're in my way."

She stared at him, this man who had destroyed all her childhood dreams. His eyebrows rose, then he chuckled.

"I'll have to keep you on a tighter leash."

But he released her, stepping away, and she let out a breath. Her heart was still pounding. She grabbed the back of his chair with one hand to steady herself.

"My lord..."

"Now she says my lord," said Avon. "Good. I want you to look at the seal as soon as we reach the palace."

And they were back to her task. She grimaced. All this time she'd held on to hope of escape, and now she didn't even have that. It was either disobey Bakra's direct order or stay with Avon and delay as long as she could until Bakra took back the capital.

If he took it back.

Regardless, Avon had made his point. She couldn't argue with that.

"As you wish, my lord." She gave him a tight smile. "May I be excused?"

He collapsed back into his seat and nodded, dismissing her with a casual flick of his hand. His hair fell over his eyes and he swept it back. She realised that she was staring and swallowed, then hastily turned away, striding next door to the tiny cabin he'd reserved for her on the return journey.

There she lay in the narrow bunk bed for the couple of hours it took to reach Maskamere's shores. He'd disconcerted her, she had to admit that, and it took longer than she would have liked to calm the fire in her nerves.

To the task at hand, then. There was no point in worrying about the temple until she got there. She told herself that, but it didn't stop the gnawing pit in her stomach. A better use of her time was planning the various options for stalling him. She had decided that no matter what happened, she wasn't going to open the seal.

The worst thing was that her fate had been taken out of her hands.

The prince might be dead. Even if he lived, she had no idea what his plan was, how long it would take, or how likely it was to succeed. Until this agent made contact, she was on her own.

Bakra ought to have gotten her out. She already had plenty of information to pass to him, and she'd risked her life telling Lord Hafnir anything when he could be a double agent for all she knew. But he hadn't. Now she was stuck, and all the work she'd done to give herself another opportunity to escape had gone to waste.

And then there was the mystery of the silvertree graveyard, the woman in the forest...

Focus, she told herself. Focus on the things within your control. That's the source of your power.

She turned on her side and slept.