Chapter Ten

Tanitha held her knees to her chest, looking upward at the silver beams of moonlight that trickled into the cell through the bars high above her. She rubbed her thumb in a slow circle over the dress's tattered hem, the frayed and torn edges of what had once been fine silk a tangible symbol of everything that had happened. Her own actions, her own fear, had taken something beautiful and shredded it into tattered remains of what it should have been.

She took a stiff breath, still looking upward. She wanted to believe that what she'd had with Darius wasn't so badly torn apart as she feared. Prince Kaion's admission that Darius had asked him to advocate for her had given her some hope, the thought that he wanted to protect her from danger soothing some of the pain in her breast. But then… he'd never wished any harm on her, even at the very end. Darius was a good man, and he didn't want her to be hurt. But that didn't necessarily mean that he had forgiven her. Or that he still had any feelings for her.

She finally lowered her gaze from the window, looking sightlessly at the cell wall instead. Was that what this had been about, this impulse toward the most dangerous course she could have taken? Was this really about saving Darius as she'd told herself, or had it been about trying to revive the tender feelings she'd once been so sure of? Had she thought that perhaps some grand gesture on her part might be enough to earn his forgiveness?

His love?

She closed her eyes tight. It would have been so much easier if she could just deny her own feelings for him. If she could convince herself that her actions had been purely logical, that coming here had been a pragmatic choice made simply out of the need to protect the child, then perhaps the question of Darius' feelings wouldn't possess so much power to torment her. But she couldn't deny her feelings, couldn't spare herself the pain of wondering. Because she did love him. She loved him enough to throw herself in danger on the slightest chance that they might be able to be together. And she desperately needed to know if he could ever feel that way again in return.

But there was no way for her to know. Not without speaking with him, and that possibility was laughably remote. So instead, she had to simply hope that Prince Kaion would choose to relay her words to Darius. Although, on reflection, perhaps she ought to instead be hoping that he'd closely hold to his promise to Darius to advocate for her. He'd seemed at least slightly sympathetic to her, his statements to the contrary notwithstanding, but she wasn't so na?ve as to think he might be willing to stand between her and Naratha. Naratha, who seemed to be still very much inclined toward simply ending Tanitha.

Tanitha would not have thought that sleep could come to her, but somehow it must have, because she awakened with a jolt at the sound of a door slamming open down the hall.

She was already on her feet when a cohort of six guards came around the corner in full uniform, their bronze breastplates gleaming even in the muted glow of the moonlight that filtered in from the window far above. One of them— presumably the leader— produced a key, inserting it into the lock.

"Stay where you are," he said shortly, when she took a hesitant step forward. Tanitha obeyed, looking the group over quickly as the cell door swung open. She didn't imagine that these were mundane soldiers, but rather humans trained in elemental magic, and probably in resisting a soul-speaker's influence. Not that she had any idea of their strength relative to hers.

"You've been summoned," the leader said brusquely as he entered. "Hands." Tanitha started to obey, then faltered as he pulled a pair of manacles that she hadn't noticed from where they'd been hanging at his belt. She had the briefest moment of trepidation that tilted toward fear before it was overwhelmed by a sudden anger, though it was not directed at these men.

"Summoned by Queen Naratha, I take it?" she asked. A small and much more sensible part of her was quailing at the thought, but the gross unfairness of the situation had taken much higher precedent in her mind. She had surrendered herself to a demon queen to see Darius freed, and not only would he not be freed, but she, a willing prisoner, was to be brought before Naratha in chains?

"Hands," he said again, ignoring the question and stepping close to her.

Tanitha didn't hesitate. Drawing on her full strength, she sent out a pulse of pure willpower.

All six of the guards, including the one closest to her, abruptly and suddenly dropped to their knees. Startled oaths escaped two of them, and Tanitha doubled down as she felt resistance against her influence, their wills surging against hers.

It was disturbingly easy to keep them in place. But then, perhaps that shouldn't have surprised a woman who had rendered a demon prince unconscious and then soul-bound him.

The thought brought with it pain, enough to cut through her anger. Tanitha blinked several times, surprised at herself, then slowly retracted a small portion of her influence. Carefully, she stepped back as the foremost guard shoved himself to his feet, one hand going to the blade at his hip.

"Don't," Tanitha said coldly, and rather to her astonishment, he paused, looking quickly at his still-kneeling comrades. "I have no intention of harming anyone," she said, "But you should recognize that you are only standing right now because I am allowing it." He swallowed, slowly moving his hand away from the blade's hilt. Tanitha gave him a small nod. "I surrendered myself to Queen Naratha willingly," she said, keeping her voice low. "You and all your guards are keeping me here, again, because I am allowing it." She folded her arms. "What I will not allow is for you to treat me as if that is not true, and I will not go before the woman I allowed to imprison me in chains." She stood straight and tall, and he took a half step back, slowly dropping his hand from his sword. "So," she said. "Take me to Queen Naratha."

Tanitha expected the guards to take her to the palace's throne room— if Naratha wanted to speak with her, where better than from the Ivory Throne, the strongest symbol of demonic power in these lands?— but to her surprise, they instead escorted her to a tower, two of them ahead of her and four behind as they ascended the winding staircase of white stone.

They emerged into a surprisingly open space; the top of the tower wasn't roofed, but was instead enclosed only by a graceful carved latticework that was overgrown with verdant leaves and vines, brilliant flowers showing through in deep red even in the moonlight. Turning, one could see the full span of the city, but Tanitha spared it only a brief glance. Her attention was much more taken up by the fact that Queen Naratha was standing at the edge of the balcony, looking over the night-swathed city.

Queen Naratha was a woman of elegant height, her hair dark and braided in serpentine coils. Her powerful sea-blue wings extended nearly to the ground, their scales shimmering in the moonlight like gemstones. Her posture bespoke the kind of firm confidence that only came about in those accustomed to the power of command, but there was more than that. A demon queen might be able to order her subjects to carry out her will. This was a woman unafraid of enforcing her will through her own strength, unafraid of taking matters into her own hands. Or perhaps claws, Tanitha thought queasily, her mind flashing to the tales of dragons battling in the night.

Naratha turned as they entered, and her gaze locked on Tanitha. Tanitha swallowed. She had seen Queen Naratha at far distances before in some of her public appearances, and even then, her impression had been one of deadly grace and power. Now, with only some ten paces between them, that sense was intensely magnified.

Naratha's eyes were dark but tightly focused, and the level of pure, barely-contained hatred in them made Tanitha vividly regret her own boldness with the guards moments before. She found herself profoundly wishing that she had allowed the manacles, if only as a show of submission.

The head of the guards walked forward, dropping to one knee as he made his report. His subdued voice was nearly inaudible to Tanitha, and she couldn't make out any of his words. Naratha's gaze did not leave Tanitha's face the entire time he spoke.

"Thank you, Captain," Naratha said at last, still watching Tanitha with inhuman focus. "Your concerns about her strength are noted. Nonetheless, I will speak with her alone."

The guards withdrew perhaps more swiftly than necessary, and Tanitha wondered for an instant if she wasn't the only one who wished to be anywhere else but under Naratha's gaze. As the door to the winding stairs shut with ominous finality, Tanitha forced herself to look up, meeting Naratha's eyes fully for the first time.

For a moment, they simply regarded each other. And then finally, Naratha spoke.

"So," she said, her voice cold. "Here you stand. Darius' little human."

Tanitha swallowed. Her instincts, driven into her by years of enforced respect for demonkind, urged her to bow, to make some sign of respect. But despite that, she resisted the impulse. Queen or not, this was a woman who had ordered the death of one of her own subjects, one that had done no wrong. Tanitha failed to see why she might owe her any obeisance.

"Your Majesty," she said, with a bare inclination of her head, the motion and her voice both stiff. "Why have you summoned me here?"

Naratha gave a smile, the expression faint but also sharp and cold in the instant before it vanished. "I suppose I could have addressed you while you remained in the cell you were destined to rot in," she said. "But I thought certain things might be clearer to you from here." She tilted her head meaningfully in the direction of the city the balcony overlooked. Warily, Tanitha approached.

She could see the city below, its clean white lines bright under the moon's gentle lambent glow, but that wasn't what caught her attention. Instead, her gaze caught on a swath of destruction directly beneath them.

It was a furrow easily the width of an oxcart that stretched probably a hundred paces in the courtyard below, the flagstones crushed nearly to gravel at its deepest point. She followed the trail with her gaze to where it ended abruptly— to where the fallen dragon must have pushed itself into the air— only to resume in an even wider strip of destruction in what Tanitha thought was an artisan's district. Buildings were crushed like kindling, and many of the broken timbers still smoked, narrow grey plumes curling upward to the deep blue of the night sky. In the distance, she could see the city's reserve granaries, a row of warehouses that had been badly damaged as well.

"Darius did most of this," Naratha said. Tanitha blinked, trying to force back the tears that were suddenly fighting to emerge at the sound of his name.

"He loves this city," Naratha continued. "He has always seen himself as its guardian and protector. He loves this city, and yet, this was the damage he wrought upon it. Because of you ." Tanitha didn't turn to look at her, her heart aching too badly. "After you soul-bound him, he went to his brother, begging for his help. But the second Darius realized that Kaion had come to me in turn— that I knew you still breathed— he broke away. Spurred, I assume, by some order on your part to preserve your life."

She turned to look at Tanitha directly, her gaze still smoldering with that deep, quiet fury. "Darius claims that I'm wrong in that supposition. That you gave him no orders or compulsions," she said. "But of course, he could hardly say otherwise." Her expression made a slight shift toward assessment, judgement. "I suppose you'll tell me the same," she said. "That you'll expect me to believe that you had only pure intentions when you put him under your control. That you gave him no orders."

Tanitha looked over the balcony at the destruction below, tears pricking at her eyes still. She had to swallow before she could speak.

"I did give him an order," she said softly. Naratha's gaze sharpened; Tanitha could feel it despite having her face turned away. "I told him to stay," she said. She wasn't sure what emotion, if any, was coloring her voice; she felt strangely empty as she remembered Darius' expression in that moment, the pain and betrayal in his gaze. "He was going to leave to seek help, as you said. I asked him to wait. To talk to me. And then I understood that he didn't have a choice, that if he stayed, it wouldn't be because he chose to. It would be because I had compelled him. So, I rescinded the order." She had to stifle a shuddering breath. "And then he left," she said.

Naratha was watching her with a faint sneer. "And yet I'm to believe that he cares for you," she said. "By your own admission, the moment he was in your power, he fled from you."

Tanitha stood very still. "No," she said. "The moment he was in my power, I let him go." She looked pointedly at the destruction and chaos beneath them, at the smoke still rising from broken timbers, then back at Naratha. "What happened the moment he was in yours?" she asked.

Naratha's gaze could have pierced a plate of Akkenthian steel, but even so, Tanitha didn't flinch. She couldn't fault a woman for trying to protect her son. But deciding what that meant against his own wishes, willfully blinding herself to the possibility that his desires were not in line with hers? That part was far harder to forgive.

To her surprise, Naratha was the first to look away. "Insolent girl," she muttered. She turned her gaze back over the destruction below. "I brought you here because I have a proposal for you," she said. "Though the gods know you don't deserve the opportunity."

Tanitha looked at her warily, uncertain why she should have any faith in a proposal from Naratha when the terms she'd offered for her own surrender hadn't even been respected. "When I came here," she said, "I offered myself in exchange for Darius. My freedom for his." She took a bracing breath. "And you haven't granted him that."

Naratha raised an eyebrow. "Why under the Rifts would you assume that?"

Tanitha forced her expression to remain free from the surge of doubt and anxiety these words raised in her. "He would have spoken with me, or at least sent a messenger, if speaking with me directly wasn't an option," she said. Whatever else was true, she was certain at least of that much.

Naratha looked at her for a moment, the faint sneer returning. "You're very confident in the feelings of a man whom you soul-bound against his will."

"I have done what I can to make what I did right," Tanitha said, trying to keep the sharp spike of pain those words sent through her from showing on her face. "He is a good enough man that he would respect that."

Naratha didn't answer immediately, but instead watched Tanitha with unnerving intensity. There was something vaguely reptilian about her gaze, Tanitha thought uneasily. An unnatural coldness she'd never seen elsewhere.

"You're right; he is a good man," Naratha said suddenly. "And one day, he will be a great king, if you haven't permanently destroyed his chances at that."

Tanitha wanted to protest that statement, but she kept her peace with effort; she had hurt him, and she knew what kind of damage could occur if it became generally known what kind of power a human soul-speaker could hold over a demon.

Naratha continued, "And you're further correct that I haven't released him, though the fault for that lies at your feet, not mine. I consider myself under no obligation to hold to the terms of surrender that one such as you might offer." Her eyes glinted, flat and cold. "Though if you must know, in truth I'd prefer those terms to what I'm about to offer you. At least then I could end this cleanly, after the child was born."

Tanitha forced herself to keep silent, waiting. After a moment, Naratha continued, her voice perfectly level, "I should tell you that I don't believe for one moment that he is so foolish as to have actually given his heart to you." Tanitha didn't let her gaze waver, despite her own anxieties on the subject. No matter how many nights she'd already spent sleepless and days without appetite, wondering if he hated her, she wouldn't let Naratha see it. "Nor can I trust his own words on the subject," Naratha continued. Tanitha's heart stuttered at that. Had he… had he told Naratha that he still cared for Tanitha, then? "Nonetheless, Darius did propose a solution to all of this that you may find interesting." Tanitha waited, trying not to allow the turmoil born of painful hope to show on her face. "Darius claims that he is willing to allow you to be ritually soul-bound to him in turn," Naratha said. Tanitha's breath caught. "Such a binding would greatly balance the influence you have over him," Naratha said.

"Darius proposed this?" Tanitha asked, her heart beating hard.

"He did," Naratha affirmed. "Of course, you must know there are prerequisites to being soul-bound to the Crown Prince of Karazhen. Naturally, it's important for our leaders to have the strength to lead both demon and humans. We require assurances that anyone who marry into the bloodline show that they will contribute to that strength. That their children will have it as well. The position of our kind is tenuous in this world," Naratha said calmly.

Tanitha would have scoffed at that if she hadn't been so wary of where Naratha might be taking the conversation. She supposed the statement was technically true, but Tanitha had been at the mercy of demonkind for nearly the whole of her life. That fact hadn't bothered her— after all, their mercy was precisely the reason she and Lithra had survived the aftermath of the plague outbreak— but now? As things stood now, Naratha's power seemed anything but tenuous .

"Darius seems to be under the impression that you are stronger than most humans," Naratha said. "I doubt it, myself, but if you agree that it's true, I am willing to put it to the test." She looked at Tanitha, her expression giving nothing away. "I assume you are familiar with the Trials?"

Tanitha's breath caught. She'd thought that Naratha might be moving in this direction. Yes, she was familiar with the Trials. Everyone was. Everyone knew of the feats of strength that prospective consorts to the royals and highest nobles had to demonstrate. They were a tradition nearly as old as Karazhen itself.

They had also, more than once, proven fatal to the participants.

"I am familiar, yes," she said, barely managing to keep her voice level.

"Good," Naratha said calmly. "What you may not know is that the law does not technically state that a prince's bride must be a demon. Fortunately for you, it only states that she must have the sort of strength that guarantees her children will one day be worthy of the loyalty of the people of this city." She waited, more than a hint of challenge in her gaze.

Tanitha swallowed. This was a trap. She knew it was. But… Naratha already planned to kill her. She didn't need any excuse or pretense for that. What was the point of this, then?

Almost as soon as the question occurred to her, though, she understood. Tanitha had public opinion on her side, and perhaps, somehow, impossibly, Darius' support. Naratha couldn't kill her without fomenting discontent and alienating her own heir. She needed to make a show of fairness, no matter how false it might be.

Still… "Was Darius willing to allow me to be bound to him for his own sake?" she asked softly. "Or is this simply a political decision for him? A way to fix…" She cleared her throat. "A way to fix what I did?"

Naratha gave her a cold, level look. "You will use his title when speaking of him," she said. "You have not earned that level of familiarity."

"With respect," Tanitha said, her throat feeling tight, "he specifically requested that I not use his title. It was one of the last things he said to me before he left. He told me that it wasn't who he had wanted to be to me."

Naratha eyed her. Finally, she said, "Darius makes his decisions based on the good of Karazhen. This solution is a very political one."

Tanitha bit her lip, unsure how to take that despite knowing full well how Naratha had intended it.

"If I agree," she said at last, "If I agree and participate in the Trials, but do not overcome them. What then?"

"In that scenario, we will simply default to the original arrangement," Naratha said smoothly. "I would still have to keep Darius imprisoned until your execution, unfortunately. It's something of an embarrassment and an inconvenience, of course. I suppose I will have to invent some fiction about where he has been in the interim, but there are limited other options."

Tanitha forced herself to keep her posture still and composed, forcing down the turmoil of her own thoughts. She couldn't afford to be led by her emotions right now.

"And in the event of my execution," she asked, "what is your plan for Darius' child?"

"If Darius can tolerate the daily reminder of what you did to him, we will simply announce that he has taken a fosterling to raise after we have found a suitable bride for him," Naratha said, then made a careless gesture. "Or something of that nature. The child may have an undesirably high proportion of human blood, but it is still one of us." Her lip curled slightly as she looked Tanitha over. "Unfortunately."

Tanitha weighed this. The option of the Trials was obviously a trap, and Tanitha was strongly disinclined to make anything about her own death more convenient for Naratha. And yet, though she knew she couldn't necessarily trust that Naratha was telling her the truth, she was heartened by the news that Darius was willing to let her be bound to him, to equalize the balance of power between them.

There was something else, though, and that was the good of the child that Tanitha was currently carrying. If she went with the original plan, the child would live, yes, but what kind of life? If Darius truly did care enough for her fate to offer a way for her life to be spared, would he be able to bear raising the child after Tanitha had been killed? Or would the child be given to someone else, with no knowledge of its parents?

The thought brought a sudden intense rise of pain to Tanitha's breast, and strangely, her mind leapt back several weeks to the time Darius had brought her a funerary chant from her homeland. A way to honor her lost and mostly forgotten parents. This child… If she died, would this child have even that much?

Tanitha took a steadying breath. She'd been so focused on freeing Darius and preserving this child's life that she'd let herself lose sight of something very simple. She wanted to live. She wanted to be with Darius, if it was true that he wanted her as well. And she wanted to raise this child. To protect and to nurture it. To let it know that it was loved and cared for.

Yes, this offer was a trap. But the alternative— the option of simply surrendering her fate to Naratha's hands— was somehow far, far worse.

"If I agree," Tanitha said, "what happens then, exactly?"

"I send out a royal announcement," Naratha said coolly. "A decree confirming your rather transparent attempt at forcing my hand. We'll confirm that the prince of demons did choose a human bride. We'll give your name, your background, your strength as a soul-speaker. And we will announce that you have agreed to participate in the Trials. Meanwhile, you'll submit to assessment from my elementalists, to determine your strengths and weaknesses."

Tanitha considered this. "No," she said after a moment. "No assessment."

Naratha tilted her head, eyes slightly narrowed. "I can hardly select Trials for a woman of whose abilities I possess no knowledge."

"You know I am a soul-speaker," Tanitha replied. Prince Kaion had told her she was too trusting, and maybe that was true, but even so, she wasn't a fool. If she was going to throw herself into the Trials on the barest spark of hope that it might give her a chance at life, she wasn't going to allow Naratha or her minions to determine the exact limits of Tanitha's powers.

"You know I am a soul-speaker," she repeated, "and you know what level of strength you would require of any woman that Darius courted. That's enough. You never would have required Alethia or any other demon to submit to an assessment." She stood perfectly straight and still. "You said that this would be done according to tradition, with the same requirements you would have named for any eligible prospect," she added, heart beating hard. She had not intended to start this day— or any day, ever— by defying the queen of the demons. "And if that's your intention, then let it be so," she finished. "No assessment."

Naratha didn't respond for several seconds, her expression giving nothing away. Tanitha resisted the urge to break the silence as it dragged.

And then Naratha abruptly turned away, striding back to the door where Tanitha had originally entered. Tanitha released the breath she'd been holding, suddenly feeling weak in the knees.

Naratha opened the door. "Send for Hathia and Torius of the lower courts," she said to the guards that still waited outside. Tanitha's brow furrowed. She knew those names— they were both demon arbiters of public forums— but she had no idea what their relevance to the present situation might be. Naratha continued, "Tell them that they are summoned to the royal granaries. I'll be there to give further explanation when they arrive. Escort her there as well," she said, with a dismissive nod to Tanitha before turning back to fully face her.

"If you wish this to be done with no assessment, then so be it," she said coolly. "You can do your first Trial tonight."