Chapter Twenty-One

Tanitha did not return immediately to Karazhen.

She could have, and in truth, she desperately wanted to. She wanted to lie down and sob until she felt the tears had washed her clean of the crawling sensation that hadn't left her since the moment Alethia had told her the town had fallen to the plague. But she'd known that would have been a mistake.

Tanitha wasn't certain what Naratha's ultimate goal with the second Trial had been. She could simply have been counting on Tanitha's failure; they'd thought her incapable of healing, after all. But there had been a path for success even if that had been true. Tanitha would have simply had to have been willing to become a murderer.

She also didn't know which option Naratha would have considered preferable— her failure, or her success through bloodshed. Oddly, she thought it was likely the latter. They could have painted her as a monster, a woman willing to spill blood for her ambitions of seizing a throne, and then found a way to kill her in the next Trial.

It made for a good story, she had to admit. A human woman, reaching for something far beyond her place in life, losing sight of who and what she was to get it. And the common people, the people who were cheering her name in the streets, would feel disillusioned and disappointed, then ultimately relieved when she died, an apparent victim of her own hubris when she accepted a third Trial.

And so, she had decided that she needed a different story to be told. A story of a woman who would not shy away from duty, or even from exceeding its bounds, no matter her own fear. She'd refused to return to Karazhen, instead insisting that she be taken to the camp where Iathen's people were being held until the plague was extinct.

Each household was being kept isolated from the others, in tents or lean-tos or whatever other temporary structures could be made or found. Demons patrolled the entire camp, enforcing the isolation but also monitoring their charges for any early symptoms of the plague. Tanitha attached herself to a company of healers that was comprised of humans and demons both, and under their direction, she both healed and comforted the frightened, disoriented people of the town.

It wasn't much. She knew that. She also knew that the situation was under control, and that she wasn't needed. But she needed to know that, no matter what happened in the third Trial, no matter what Naratha did, she would be remembered as someone who acted for the good of those who could not act for themselves.

She barely remembered her eventual journey back to Karazhen; she'd been too exhausted by the Trial and all that had followed. She hardly registered the presence of her demon arbiters at her side, nor the sideways glances of analysis from Alethia. She hardly noticed the crowds that emerged when word of her arrival spread, or the cheers that followed her small entourage back to the palace gates. And when she finally returned to her rooms, she hardly said a word to Lithra. Instead, she simply collapsed into her sister's arms, the tears she'd been holding back for days finally coursing free.

The whole of that day and into the next, Lithra just sat with her, holding her tight. She didn't ask any questions— it seemed she'd heard what had happened— for which Tanitha was grateful. Her mind had been spinning over all that had happened, trying to definitively answer for herself what outcome Naratha had wanted, and how far she might have been willing to go to see it happen.

But oddly, it wasn't the thought that Naratha might have commanded that some people be deliberately omitted from the evacuation that was bothering Tanitha the most. There was something else, something Alethia had said just before the Trial had begun. About how the tactic of deliberate infection wasn't unusual.

On the morning of the third day after her return, she asked Lithra for a little time alone, and once Lithra had retreated to her own rooms, Tanitha had promptly sent for more materials from the palace libraries, though of a different sort from before.

She knew she should be practicing her elemental skills. But the question in her mind was burning too bright for her to think of anything else, and with a fervor that bordered on obsession, she paged through histories and maps, looking for a pattern she was increasingly certain she would find.

And so that was what she was engaged in when her guards announced that Queen Naratha had come to visit her.

Tanitha lunged to her feet as the Shadowborn City's queen entered the room. Naratha's gaze swept over her, cool assessment in her eyes. Tanitha forced herself to stand straight and firm, heedless of the wildness of her hair or the inkdrops that stained her hands from the hurried notes she had been taking. She wasn't in any fit state to receive royalty, but she was finding it extremely difficult to care.

It was several moments before either of them spoke.

"You needn't look so tense," Naratha said calmly. "You're not in any imminent danger from me."

"Imminent," Tanitha repeated flatly. "Should I take that to mean that you plan to give me some time before my next Trial?"

Naratha gave a short exhalation, almost a laugh. "Perhaps you haven't realized," she said. "But I have little control over when a Trial occurs even under normal circumstances, which these very much are not." Tanitha didn't respond to that, too wary to do anything but wait. "How are you feeling?" Naratha asked Tanitha.

Tanitha blinked. Twice. "I'm sorry?" she asked, certain that she had misheard.

"I am asking after your health," Naratha said slowly, as if speaking to a child. "Given that you are allegedly carrying my grandchild, and have just been in a location infested with the Blistering Death, it seemed appropriate."

"Appropriate," Tanitha repeated, her expression sliding into incredulity. "I'm sorry. Perhaps I missed something. But since you seem to feel it appropriate to orchestrate a contest that is obviously meant to kill me, I thought you and I had rather different standards on the meaning of the word."

Naratha raised an eyebrow. "You brought this fully on yourself, you know. You are the one who thought it was appropriate to force my son to reveal his true form."

Tanitha felt her teeth grind together from how tense her jaw was, and she consciously loosened it. "I've told you what happened," she said. "Darius told you what happened. If you won't believe me, or him, then I don't see why we are speaking."

Naratha tilted her head in consideration. "That's a fair observation," she allowed. "I debated coming here. I've debated a good deal, of late. For instance, I had to debate what I would do if you contracted the Blistering Death. Sometimes it kills quite suddenly." She considered for a moment, then continued, "It occurred to me that you could meet a conveniently quick end due to your exposure to the plague. A tragedy, truly, that you'd be dead before the palace physicians could treat you."

Tanitha took a slow breath, fighting the urge to say any number of things she knew she'd regret. She knew she should be frightened, but in truth, she was fast moving past that.

"Yes," she said, a hard edge coming into her voice. "It seems you're rather fond of using the plague to reach your ends."

Naratha paused for several seconds, a coldness coming into her eyes. "I'm not certain I take your meaning," she said, a faint warning in her tone.

Tanitha ignored it. Instead, she turned to the desk, pulling out a map.

"Something occurred to me on the way back from Iathen," she said. "Alethia told me that your advisors believed the infection was deliberate. That the town was an important waypoint. That this was probably a Sabrian attack, a way to soften us." Naratha nodded once, though her expression gave nothing away. "It made me think of another time when there was an outbreak, seemingly out of nowhere," Tanitha continued. She held the map up. "And it occurred to me how useful an outbreak in Spaudia would have been to the Shadowborn City during the war. How analogous its location was to Iathen." Tanitha's hands were shaking, the motion visible in the trembling of the map's velum. She lowered the map to the desk and turned back to the demon queen. Naratha's expression was still smooth, but there was a hint of warning in her gaze. A warning Tanitha was determined to ignore.

"So, of course, I'm curious," Tanitha said. A light tremor of anger had come into her voice. "I had to wonder if you might have given an order like that in the past," she said. "If the Sabrians weren't, perhaps, learning from your own tactics."

Naratha didn't answer for several seconds, but there was something steely in her gaze that Tanitha couldn't help but read as confirmation.

Tanitha took a stiff breath. "You know I was there," she said. "That I was taken from there as a child." Naratha gave a single nod, and Tanitha pressed on.

"I was wondering," she said, "if something else that occurred to me had also occurred to you." She folded her arms. "Darius told me why you ordered my death," she said. A flicker of displeasure showed on Naratha's face, but she smoothed it quickly. Tanitha ignored it. "He told me that your oracles had foretold that my fate was twined somehow with that of your family. At first, I think we all assumed that it meant through Darius. But that isn't right, is it?" she asked. "My fate was twined with your actions even then. Without that plague outbreak, I never would have come to the Shadowborn City." She met Naratha's eyes. "Your actions brought me here," she said. " You brought me here."

"The thought has, in fact, occurred to me," Naratha said. "If you're asking if I regret my actions, I must say that I never had cause to before that realization came to me."

"Never had—?" Tanitha broke off, then had to take a slow breath. She didn't know what she'd expected. Some expression of sorrow, maybe, even feigned. But perhaps she should be grateful that Naratha had decided to be honest.

"Have you ever seen the Blistering Death up close?" she said, her voice flat with barely contained anger. "Have you seen the boils, the disfigurements? And you say you never regretted inflicting that on a city of innocent people?"

"I stopped a war," Naratha said coldly. "A war that had already taken my husband from me. A war where countless more innocents would have died had it continued." She eyed Tanitha. "I might have done differently if I thought that my actions that day would one day lead to me losing my son."

"You have not lost him," Tanitha said, still angry, but a pained edge had come into her voice as well. "I did not take him from you. He is alive, and he still cares for you." She stopped, letting the unspoken thought fill the space between them. The thought of how his feelings for Naratha were changing due to her actions toward Tanitha. How he might view her if Tanitha died. But then, Naratha had a certain amount of deniability. Perhaps that was why such a powerful queen had been so willing to cede her control of Tanitha's fate to someone else. Someone else with a specific desire to see Tanitha dead.

No, Naratha wasn't going to hurt her. She would leave that to Alethia, then claim her hands were clean.

Tanitha swallowed. A peculiar cold fury was working its way through her blood, and she couldn't quite identify its cause, if only because there were too many possible suspects. Chief among them, though, was the disregard for Darius. For his own feelings, for his control over his own fate. Tanitha had largely agreed to the Trials for a chance to be able to secure her own fate, for a chance to strengthen herself against the powers that could so easily wave her life aside. But in that moment, she realized something else. She was not the only one whose desires, whose hopes and dreams for the future, meant nothing in the face of Naratha's decisions.

"Darius is going to be a good and honorable king one day," Tanitha said. "I believe that of him. But he may not be the kind of king you want him to be. And that isn't because of me. That is because of him. Because he isn't like you. He is stronger and kinder both." She pointed to the map. "This sort of thing. Threading infection through a city full of innocent people? It's never going to happen again." Her voice was flat with certainty. "Not because I think you'll ever feel regret. Not because I think you'll listen to me. Not because I'm so certain that I'll win the next Trial, and that I will stand at Darius' side and be able to stop you from this sort of crime. Because no matter what happens, Darius wouldn't let this sort of thing occur. Because he is better than you."

Naratha stood. For a moment, Tanitha just held still. A trill of fear had run through her at the suddenness of Naratha's motion, but she stifled it; she was certain that no matter what she did, Naratha didn't want to lose Darius, which meant that she wouldn't sully her hands with Tanitha's blood.

"He hasn't chosen me over you," Tanitha said, returning to the critical issue. "Not yet. But he will, if you force him to."

Naratha looked her up and down. "I very much doubt that I will have the opportunity to force that matter," she said. Tanitha's blood chilled at her tone: cold, utterly dispassionate, but most of all, certain. Certain that Tanitha was not going to survive long enough for Darius to ever have to make such a choice.

"What is your plan?" Tanitha demanded, her anger suddenly peaking again. "Once you get your way, once I'm gone? Do you think tearing Darius' heart out like that will make it easier to shape him into the kind of king you want him to be? Do you think you can make him like you ?"

"Enough," Naratha snapped.

"No," Tanitha said, her voice trembling with anger. "I am not the one here that is a threat to him. You are. "

Naratha went utterly still, and Tanitha forced herself to do the same, waiting. There was nothing in Naratha's expression but a deep, cold anger.

And then, strangely, it passed. "I came here," Naratha said, her tone expressionless, "to give you a warning about the current greatest threat to you . And whatever you believe, that is not, in fact, me. If you must know, I'd prefer that you fail the third Trial but survive it. That scenario affords me the greatest amount of flexibility regarding how I approach this situation. There are other parties, however, who have taken a different view on the matter of your survival." She turned toward the door. "Refuse the final Trial when it comes," she said over her shoulder. "That is the only way your life might be slightly extended."

Tanitha didn't speak, her heart beating too hard in her throat. But even if she'd been able to answer, Naratha didn't wait for her to do so. She left, leaving Tanitha standing alone.