Chapter Four The Villainess Commits Blasphemy

CHAPTER FOUR

The Villainess Commits Blasphemy

When she of snow and flame dances through dreams

When the white knight's heart strays to lost queens

He is coming. He is coming.

When the abyss opens, when the dead bow down

The curse is come upon us, he will claim his crown

The ravine calls its master up above

He goes to tell lost souls he died for love

He is coming. He is coming.

The words run wild, escape if you can

The pearl will be his or belong to no man

His sword is ruin, his eyes are fire

All the worlds are his empire.

The child of gods is dead and grown

He is coming, he is coming for his throne.

Everyone in Eyam knew the Oracle's prophecy.

Time of Iron , ANONYMOUS

R ae and Key got lost on their way to cheat death. The tower of the ladies-in-waiting was set apart from the palace proper in a small circle of trees. They followed a winding garden path to a great door, then inside to the labyrinthine passages of the palace.

The passageway floors were smooth grey riverstone and deep green malachite, giving the effect of a network of rivers. Rae felt carried away by strange currents. She almost walked into the great glass case housing the crown jewels.

"Sweet," Rae said under her breath. "The cursed necklace."

The hungry mouths of two wrought-gold serpents formed a clasp. In glittering chains, elaborate loops and lines shaping a golden cage for a future fragile throat, hung a great black jewel. Ominous red gleamed along its facets like lethal fire waking in dead embers. Legend said this jewel was the lost god's eye. People called the necklace the Abandon All Hope Diamond.

"Looks valuable," commented her new minion. "But difficult to pawn."

"A king of Eyam sent a hundred men down into the ravine to find this jewel for his bride. Only one returned. The queen wore it for a year before she died young. A king gives this diamond to his queen to display that she is beloved above crown and kingdom, worth a hundred lives and a thousand sins."

"So definitely hard to pawn," said Key. Rae laughed. "Did you think the king would give it to you?"

"I know better. I'm not the one who gets adored." Rae held up the injured arm bearing the snake bracelet. "This bracelet means I'm the king's favourite. It doesn't make me queen material."

Stories sneered at shallow women who cared for vain adornment, but women used to hoard gems when they couldn't have bank accounts. Jewels were for survivors. Rae's mother had given Alice her great-grandmother's pearls, not Rae. Alice looked better in them. Alice might have children to pass them down to. Half the value of jewels lay in their meaning. Real treasure held a story, and stories were for heroes.

Key's was a face of contradictions, his eyes hollow as the sockets of a skull, his full mouth either insouciant or serious as the grave. The snake bracelet wasn't worth the solemn attention he gave it.

"At least you did something to get that."

Rae arched a brow. " What are you implying?"

A sword-straight eyebrow flicked up, Key returning the gesture. "You schemed. Better than getting adored while other people do all the work."

One day the Emperor would fasten this around Lia's neck, saying if the jewel did not please her she could hurl it back into the abyss. The Emperor had a darkness in his heart and all, but he didn't care about money.

Only minor villains had petty flaws like being greedy. Rae gave her minion an approving glance.

"I think we'll be friends."

He tilted his head, with the air of a scientist beholding a new specimen. "I never had one of those before. Might be interesting."

"High five," proposed Rae.

Key's smirk tilted smile-ward. "No idea what you're saying."

Rae's hand was already lifted. "Hit my hand."

"How hard?" Key asked obligingly. "Should I break it?"

Rae started back. "Do not ! Tap my palm with your palm. Gently! Gently!"

Key frowned as though gentleness required ferocious concentration. She watched with suspicion as he touched his palm against hers as instructed, a brief brush of cracked leather against her skin. Unexpectedly, the touch sent a pang through Rae.

In a year and a day, Rae wouldn't be here to fulfil her vow and give Key and Emer the gold she promised. Nor was she saving them from execution. Lia would beg mercy for Rahela's maid and guard.

Memory hit Rae harder than Key had. Emer wasn't grateful, but Key was. The lady's golden beauty and even more golden heart left a deep impression on the humble palace guard. Like many guys in Time of Iron , Key ended up with a hopeless crush on Lia.

Everything made sense now, including Key's looks and why Rae didn't remember him. Lia was constantly wringing her hands going, why must handsome men persecute me with their love? Except for the Emperor and the Last Hope, her suitors blended into a chiselled haze. They always sacrificed themselves so Lia could live, especially wicked ones who reformed for her sake. Perishing for love of Lia was one of the major causes of death in Eyam, up there with being eaten by monsters, torn apart by ghouls, and plague.

Terrible news. Key was doomed. Rae must use her minion while she still had him.

The memory served as a useful reminder these were fictional characters. Rae didn't have to care about their feelings, and as a villain she wasn't supposed to. What mattered was her own life.

Key gestured her forward. "So, my scheming lady. Which way to the throne room?"

"I don't know. I have the amnesia, remember?"

The way Key rolled his eyes hinted he wasn't buying her genius cover story. "Well, I got here yesterday."

Hunting through the palace they passed several pairs of guards, posted at intervals. The guards were mainly middle-aged men, hair close-cropped, military figures going thick beneath blue-and-steel palace uniforms shinier than Key's. Every guard gave them the side-eye. Lady Rahela, with her snowy, red-dipped drapery, was a memorable figure. The fact she should be imprisoned was probably memorable, too.

Most gave Rae a wide berth, their air suggesting, A criminal on the loose, but accompanied by a guard? Above my paygrade. I do not see it.

Inevitably, one guard decided to make it his problem. He sidled up to Key, and Key seized the opportunity to ask for directions to the throne room. As the guard gave directions, his eyeballs rolled like panicking marbles, glance after uneasy glance slid at Rae.

"Is that Lady Rahela?"

"No," said Rae. "I'm her evil twin."

This dress was great for sweeping off disdainfully.

"You're her evil twin?" Key repeated.

Rae had never realized before how much pop culture featured in day-to-day conversations. In soap operas, when a twin shows up they're usually evil. In horror movies, if someone keeps their double in the attic, it's because their double is evil!

"There are many evil twins in stories," she mumbled.

Key seemed contemplative. "The songs say Lady Rahela is heartless. If both twins are evil, I blame the parents."

Rae dimly recalled Lady Rahela had a pretty typical backstory for a wicked stepsister. "Both my father and stepfather died mysteriously young. On a totally unrelated topic, my mother is gorgeous and poisonous. I take after her."

"Does your mother also make bad jokes?"

Rae shoved Key, grinning, as they walked into a room white as a blank page. She recognized it immediately. This was the Room of Memory and Bone. The floor and the gleaming-pale panels on the walls, the twisted chandelier and the little white side table, were all made of bone china. Each man must die, and sometimes their bones were ground up to make china furnishings. Rae annoyed her sister by calling it the Bone Room.

Seeing the room, very much not in the flesh, wasn't amusing. Set in the wall under glass, like an insect on display, was a child's skeleton wearing blue and black regalia. The floor was worn smooth as an old woman's single remaining tooth. This was not the king's throne room, but next door to it. Nonetheless a pale stone throne was set against a wall, its gilded bone wings carved for a beloved queen who died young. Dead rulers were placed there, so subjects could bid them goodbye. The farewells took a long time. The bodies decayed. The arms and seat of the chair were stained faintly where the fluids of rotting royals had seeped into the stone.

Rae suppressed a shudder. "Wrong turn." They left behind the bone-white death chamber, heading for the throne room doors.

The doors were ten gleaming feet tall, beaten gold that shone with red light flanked by ridged columns beginning and ending with flourishes shaped like acanthus flowers. Two guards stood before the entrance of the throne room. Each held a long spear, dark cherrywood with iron leaf shapes at the tip. Rae saw the spears up close since the guards crossed them before the doors, barring her way.

"The king's period of receiving petitioners has concluded. You may not enter."

The guard spoke by rote, staring into the distance. The other guard nudged his spear slightly against his. Both guards' eyes widened on recognizing Lady Rahela. She saw them struggle with the conundrum of whether to let her pass or arrest her.

She didn't want them coming down on the wrong side of that decision. Rae shot Key a glance, hopeful he would be helpful.

Key said brightly, "I challenge you to a duel."

This was not problem-solving. This was creating an entirely new problem!

The guard's face darkened in response to Key's smile. "I won't duel with peasant scum."

The bright smile didn't dim. "I'm not peasant scum any more. I'm a guard. Our status is equal, so if you refuse a duel, you're a coward. First blood, and the vanquished must withdraw. What do you say? Are you a coward?"

The guard lowered his spear a fraction.

Key punched him in the nose with enough force to send the guard spinning in a half-circle, clutching a pillar so he wouldn't fall. Blood sprayed onto the smooth gold of the doors.

The guard on the other side of the doors dropped his spear and hurried over. "Lost gods, are you all right?"

"Let me make a quick point." Key brought back his elbow efficiently, driving the man's lip against his teeth so blood guttered from both nose and mouth.

The guard howled.

Key beamed. "First blood! Twice. In you go, my lady."

A pool of blood spread at Rae's feet. Horror movies had led her to expect the colour pop of fake blood, startling and almost cheerful. This was the same dull shine of the blood they took from her in vials at the hospital, red diluted with black. Real blood was always darker than expected.

Tone surprisingly analytical, Key said, "I thought the king would overlook a scuffle, but not a murder at the throne room doors. I can kill them if you like?"

Rae edged back from the blood. "No."

The blaze of Key's grin went out. He regarded her with disappointment, but no surprise. "Did I not please you, my lady?"

Her team member needed positive reinforcement!

"You're doing great. I have issues with other people's blood. Not my own, I'm used to that."

The weariness shadowing Key's expression faded, and he nodded with resolve. The next moment, he stood before Rae, close enough that his unruly lock of hair brushed her forehead as he bent and slid an arm around her waist.

"What are you doing?" Rae murmured.

"Let me help." The last shadow on his face was cut away by the knife of his smile. "Wasn't that our deal?"

He swung Lady Rahela's not-inconsiderable weight easily into his arms, stepped lightly over the blood puddle, and strode through the golden double doors.

Rae was currently stacked like the library of Alexandria! Nobody had this kind of upper body strength. Fiction was absurd.

Despite the absurdity, Rae appreciated the gesture.

"Thank you," she murmured in his ear.

Key's step checked, as if startled. Then he set Rae down. "Thank me by ensorcelling the king. I hope you have a plan."

Her arm still around his neck, Rae asked: "What do they say about me in the Cauldron?"

Conspiratorially, Key whispered, "That you're an evil witch."

Even in a world with magic, people acted as if being sexy was dark enchantment. That would come in handy.

Rae purred, "Wouldn't it be fun to be a witch and curse people?"

"Yeah," Key agreed, with not a moment's pause.

It was like seeing a twisted face by a single flash of lightning, an illuminated instant of instinct that said: You're awful. Just like me.

Rae smiled. "Consider this. A witch who curses you is just telling the future you don't want to hear."

Courtiers turned towards them like flowers towards a wicked sun. Rae took a deep breath.

"Nervous?" Key asked.

"Well. Yes. But I can't wait to see the king."

Key seemed vaguely surprised. "Isn't he about to execute you?"

"I love him despite the death sentence. He's the handsomest man in the world, he's funny, he has an enormous menagerie—"

Key smirked.

"—He has an enormous collection of cool monsters," Rae explained. "He makes epic speeches, he wins unwinnable battles, he's loyal past death, and he's lonely."

"Aren't we all," Key murmured.

The throne room was treasure laid out before her. Court officials lined up against the walls, but in her excitement Rae perceived them as simply gold-braided blue-uniformed wallpaper. The riches of Eyam had only been words to her, but now they were more than words.

A divine tragedy had occurred in this land. The very earth here was strange, and strange jewels and metals could be mined from it. Metal from Eyam could be wrought into enchanted weapons. Though few visitors travelled here, merchants came offering fabulous prices for what was known as orichal steel and orichal silver. The pillars of the throne room, as outside, were ruddy orichal gold. The walls and domed ceiling were lined in green crystal, facets tinged crimson, shimmering as though they were all trapped in a broken mirror. The floor was hammered red-gold mosaics, showing the lost goddess disappearing into the sun.

The master of all these riches waited to meet her. Even the air between her and the throne shimmered. Rae prepared to be dazzled.

She quoted the Emperor in the future. "Love is the song that wakes us from the grave. Death cannot stop my heart."

Key sounded impressed but doubtful. "Love survives execution?"

She recalled an internet manifesto on why villains were better lovers. "Love burns down the world for a kiss."

"Did you say, burns down the world for kicks?"

"Hush, minion," Rae murmured. She only had eyes for the Emperor now.

The king's throne stood on vast golden talons holding rubies big as dinosaur eggs. A minister stood on either side. One must be the prime minister and the other the commander of the king's armies, though Rae couldn't tell which was which. The throne was backed by a representation of raven wings, jet and red-gold feathers fanning out. The bird's rapacious beak was enamelled with human bone. Diamonds and rubies trailed after the wings to signify sparks cascading against a lapis-lazuli sky.

Against the gold and glitter, the black of the king's clothes made him stand out like a void opening up in the sun.

Rae hit Key's arm in high excitement. "It's him! I love him!"

"So you keep saying." Key started to laugh. "Don't strike me, I stab when startled."

Here he was. The most powerful and merciless man in the world. The future Emperor. Rae's favourite character. The master of the Palace on the Edge and all within it, including the Flower of Life and Death. The Emperor had the power to heal, but the flower could save someone on the very doorstep of death. Every year when the flower bloomed the Emperor's dead army would search for someone past saving in the city slums, and the Emperor would ride out and save them. Perhaps he could be convinced to save her.

An anti-hero was just a villain with good PR. The Emperor might sympathize with Rae. She'd always sympathized with him.

Rae savoured the big reveal, from tall leather boots like polished midnight, to close black garments and the heavy black cape with a deep blue lining. His bronze breastplate shone. His gauntlets were finished off by black and iron vambraces, the criss-cross of laces ending in elaborately looped bows. The wrought iron patterns over the leather, birds with wings outstretched and snakes baring fangs, were exactly as Rae had imagined. On the king's broad, crown-embellished belt hung a set of keys and a sword. The blade's hilt was a coiled silver snake. This was Longing for Revenge, the sword that would be broken.

Her eyes continued their epic journey to the king's face.

On ceremonial occasions, kings of Eyam wore the crowned mask, a blank death mask to stand in for he who would come. There was a hollow in the centre of the crown where a dark jewel should be set: the twin of the Abandon All Hope Diamond. It was the end of the royal hearing. As Rae watched, thrilling with anticipation, the king drew off his mask to reveal eyes of emerald green, a pouty mouth and great hair, silky-dark and falling softly in place. He was the most beautiful man Rae had ever seen.

As expected. Yet seeing the king felt like calling a familiar name on the street, disoriented when they turned and showed themselves a stranger. He sat the throne in regal fashion, but the Emperor sprawled with insouciant grace, one leg hooked carelessly over the throne's arm.

Other characters had descriptive titles. The Emperor, as supreme overlord, needed no further introduction. Only now did she remember the Last Hope, when they were boys together, called his future ruler Octavian. His full name was Octavianus, Eighth King in Waiting for the Emperor.

This wasn't Rae's favourite character. Not yet.

This was before Octavian returned from the edge of death for his throne. Before he changed into somebody unrecognizable and unfathomable. One day, nobody would call him by name. His subjects would forget he ever had a name. One day, the Emperor would be terrifying as an eclipse.

Right now, King Octavian demanded: "Where are the guards?"

The books said the Emperor's voice was deep and dark as the ravine itself, rasping like a vast snake upon the earth. The king's voice was deep in a way that suggested he'd give great proclamation, but the rough gravel of the disturbed grave would come later.

Key glanced over his shoulder. "The guards aren't feeling well, Your Majesty."

Octavian's eyes narrowed. "The Hero of the Cauldron? Hero or not, I do not appreciate this intrusion."

Lady Rahela advanced. "Forgive me, Your Majesty. I insisted."

A snicker came from the sidelines. "Was the Harlot of the Tower very persuasive?"

Rae couldn't tell where the voice came from, but the whole crowd surged with laughter. Ministerial uniforms of blue and gold made the court seem a censorious sea about to drown her.

Until a voice cold enough to freeze the ocean commanded, "Silence."

Rae's heart slammed against her ribs like a boat hitting an iceberg. She felt a crunch, as if this boat was going down.

At the far end of the throne room was the ebony stand where witnesses gave evidence. On high stood Lord Marius Valerius, the Last Hope. Unconquerable in battle, peerless among men, the icy paragon of justice who would never tell a lie or break a vow. The white knight responsible for Rahela's execution.

Rae had timed her arrival carefully for several reasons. One was that she didn't want to be anywhere near the Last Hope, the scholar with a face beautiful as a god and a heart cold as a blade. The only man the Emperor ever feared.

She'd thought Lord Marius would have given his evidence and gone by now. Instead he towered before her, and even the king hushed at his word.

The line of Octavian's mouth and the chill emanating from the Last Hope suggested to Rae that Lord Marius and the king had been arguing. No need to ask about what. Lord Marius had come to bury her. He had a personal reason to want Rahela dead.

"Only the gods can judge," the Last Hope informed the crowd. "In Lady Rahela's case, I am certain they shall."

His white cloak snapped behind him as he departed the stand, filling Rae's vision like the blind blank sky after a winter storm. Strong men cowered. Women, for various reasons, trembled. The ducal line of Valerius was famous for their beauty, their skill in battle, and their ancestral curse.

This was true main character page presence. Unlike the Emperor, Lord Marius didn't need and wouldn't get character development. He was what he was made to be, unyielding to the end.

Lord Marius wasn't a disappointment. He was an awful revelation. The man was tall as a tree, with shoulders broader than most doors. His mane of black curls, shot through with ice white, was worn long enough to brush those shoulders. No real human had white hair that only started halfway down. His hairdresser appeared to be Jack Frost. His every feature was stern perfection and his sheer size was terrifying. This dignified scholar was built for brutality.

Rae cringed against Key, who casually caught her arm to steady her. He regarded Lord Marius with interest. Rae had a vision of her wicked bodyguard trying to break the Last Hope's nose and being instantly slain. She gave her head a warning shake.

Lord Marius spared them a single glance, then turned away. "I will take my leave, Your Majesty."

Rae was taken aback. "Don't you want to hear what I have to say?"

Lord Marius was magnetic, which meant he was cold as well as compelling. "Utter what lies you choose. Nothing can save you."

Breathless with fear, desperate to be believed, Rae asked, "What if I don't lie?"

"Then I hope you enjoy that new experience, madam." The Last Hope's voice was frosty enough to sting.

Rae's instinctive response was a cutting smile. "I always enjoy myself. My family motto is He came, he saw, I conquered . I'm the woman who can bring any man to his knees."

She regretted it instantly. She knew, better than any soul in the story, what he was capable of.

Scorn curled Lord Marius's perfect mouth. "And I am the man who can bring an army to its knees. I suggest throwing yourself on the king's mercy. For I have none."

When Lord Marius left the throne room, silence reigned until even the echo of his steps had faded away.

With the twist of sarcasm the Emperor would be known for, King Octavian asked, "Is the flinging yourself upon my mercy to commence now?"

Key volunteered, "Lady Rahela demanded to see you and tried to hurl herself out a window. Since I'm new to my duties, I wasn't sure if I should let ladies throw themselves out of windows?"

"You should, as a member of my guard, effectively subdue criminals," snapped the king.

His emerald eyes skimmed over Rae with as much warmth as though they were truly jewels. Rae's frail hope she could win over the king died. Clearly, Octavian's heart had already turned against her.

A terrible weight of knowledge pressed down on Rae. She knew what happened tomorrow, if she failed to stop this now.

The scene had seemed harsh justice when Alice read it aloud. Lady Rahela crawled in her torn silk gown like a butterfly with her wings ripped to shreds, begging for her life. The court laughed. The king denied her, decreeing the wicked woman must suffer a worse death than drowning in iron shoes. And, Rae recalled with a shock like walking down steps she relied on at night only to find air instead of stair, a new guard suggested how the lady should be punished. Thanks to Key's suggestion, Lady Rahela was whipped in the Room of Dread and Anticipation as iron shoes were heated on the fire until they were the colour of burning rubies. The whips had hungry steel teeth. Rahela was already a carved-up ruin when they placed the ruby slippers on her feet and made her dance, howling as her flesh crackled and smoked.

It was a horrible way to die.

Fixed by the emerald pins of the king's gaze, Rae could finally admit her sister had a point that Lady Rahela's punishment was messed up. At least Key was a stranger. He wasn't the one twisting private intimacy into public brutality. Lady Rahela was the king's ex.

Of course, Rahela was the king's criminal ex. Kings must give commands that turned warm once-loved bodies into cold food for crows. The Emperor was born to be relentless and remorseless.

Denying the evidence laid against her wouldn't work. Begging for mercy wouldn't work. Time for her new scheme.

"Lady Rahela?" King Octavian prompted. "What couldn't wait until morning?"

Rae made an announcement. "I'm guilty."

The king froze, an ice sculpture upon his jewelled throne. Beside her, Key made the swiftly controlled expression of a man re-evaluating his life choices.

Rae continued, "But you knew that. Right, Your Majesty? The Last Hope gave his testimony. All that's left to do is sentence me and watch me grovel in terror. If that's your idea of a fun time."

Despite seeming shaken by the prisoner's unusual attitude, the king kept his cool. "Are you suggesting the court should not punish traitors?"

Rae smiled. "You're asking the wrong question. Ask me how I know. I spent the last twelve hours in a locked chamber."

There was a pause.

"Tell me quickly," the king commanded.

Rae's mother said a saleswoman was a storyteller. Once people took the first step into belief, they would be swept along with your story. The trick was giving them something they wanted to believe in.

"When I laid me down upon my bed, the guilt of my evil deeds came upon me and I repented my sins," Rae declaimed, giving deliberate weight to each word. Octavian drummed his fingertips against the golden arms of the throne, so Rae hastened to conclude, " Then , I entered a trance, and the gods came to me in a vision!"

She spread her arms, shut her eyes, and willed herself to emit an aura of holy light.

When Rae opened her eyes, Key and the king were staring as though she'd grown several heads.

Oh well. Worth a shot.

"To atone for my sins, the gods made me a vessel for prophecy," Rae continued firmly.

Her announcement continued to go over like a lead balloon attached to an elephant.

Rae cleared her throat. "For your information, guys, once I saw through a glass darkly, but now I see plain. I've been both blessed and cursed with true sight that perceives the secrets hidden deep in men's hearts, and the future."

There was another pause.

"Lady Rahela, do you think we will spare your life because you feign madness?"

The king's hand lifted to summon his guards. Rae didn't want him making any such gesture.

"Wait! Let me tell your future."

Octavian gave the signal. "Enough lies. Guards! Execute her now."

Before the guards reached her, Rae shouted, "You are the godchild. You are the future Emperor. You will rule the world!"

The king hesitated, then gestured again. The guards halted. He was listening.

"Great news, the prophecy is about you," Rae continued. "You know the one. His sword is ruin, his eyes are fire, dun dun! Surely you recall the ominous prophecy."

"We all know the prophecy, Lady Rahela," snapped one of the ministers flanking the king's throne. "This is absurd!"

Rae ignored that.

"All your life, people whispered about the mysterious circumstances of your birth," she declared. "The truth is, you're not the king's son."

The throne room fell utterly silent.

Rae had stopped listening to her sister read at the point when Lia met her obviously fated lover, the guy with the crown, but she vaguely remembered Alice discussing the Emperor's humble origins. ‘Being a king' obviously didn't qualify. She'd needed to dredge the precise origins from the back of her mind. Once she did, she recalled the king was sensitive about this subject.

Noble ladies must stay pure until marriage, so a king shouldn't sleep with any of his ladies-in-waiting-to-be-queen. Octavian was raised in the countryside, birth not proclaimed, not crowned prince until he was four years old. Gossip said he'd been born to the queen too early, proving the previous king was indiscreet with his ladies-in-waiting.

Alice told Rae that speculation raged among readers on whether the current king was sleeping with his ladies-in-waiting. Except Lia, of course. Lia would never.

There was no speculation on whether Octavian was sleeping with Rahela. He totally was.

Rae talked fast, before she was executed for foul insinuations about the king.

"Mystery surrounds your birth because you were born from the abyss. The Palace was built on the edge of the dread ravine, waiting for the time the godchild would be reborn. Two decades ago, the ravine yawned wide, smoke rose, flames roared, and the sky changed. That was a sign from the gods. That was—"

"The year I was made crown prince," Octavian said slowly.

Using the king's instant of hesitation, Rae seized her chance and her scarlet-trimmed skirts, dashing up the steps of the throne. The guards at its base moved to intercept her. Key slid between them smooth as a shark in the water.

Extreme violence exploding at her back, Rahela knelt before the king.

"I see the past, as well as the future," Rae whispered in Octavian's ear. "I know the truth of the day your father died, and the blood on the stone of the tomb. Do you believe me now?"

She hoped he believed her, and had no follow-up questions. She was quoting the Oracle from the third book, and didn't know what the father or the tomb stuff was about. It obviously made sense to Octavian.

"You say I will be Emperor." His lips curled like the edge of a page about to catch fire. "Is that why you looked at me as you did, when you entered the throne room? You never looked at me like that before."

The delighted expectation Rae had felt, waiting to see her favourite, illuminated her again. Her mouth curved in a returning smile, and the king's fingers curled warm around hers. "For the first time, I recognized my Emperor."

A roar cut through their moment of hushed possibility. Octavian snatched his hand away.

"Your Majesty," thundered the minister on the other side of the king's throne. "By the lost god's teeth, I hate to say it, but I agree with the prime minister! This is absurd."

A ripple went through the court. Everyone knew the king's two chief counsellors never agreed on anything. The general was quick to anger and the prime minister slow to forgive. The general was a family man, the prime minister a confirmed bachelor. The general waged war, the prime minister urged peace. Possibly one always told the truth and one always told a lie.

The roarer with long grizzled hair and the aspect of an angry badger must be Commander General Nemeth. Which meant the man sporting a fancy gold hat and fastidiously neat goatee was Prime Minister Pio. At any other time, Rae would be pleased they had identified themselves.

At this moment, pleasure was not the emotion she was experiencing.

"For centuries those seeking to flatter kings have proclaimed their monarch the coming of the Emperor." Prime Minister Pio had the voice of a man who preferred paperwork to speeches. "Each was exposed as a false prophet. Every time, the people of Eyam were reminded: He is coming … but not yet."

Right. Everyone expected a king of Eyam to become the Emperor. Rae had to prove that this was the king, and this the time. Or else.

"The punishment for false prophets is the same as for traitors," bellowed General Nemeth. "Death. Who believes the wicked?"

The prime minister's eyes flicked to Lady Rahela's most notable assets. "Who would ever believe the Harlot of the Tower?"

People acted as if a first sexual experience must be saved, then spent at the precise right time. Virginity as stocks and shares, precious then abruptly worthless. In the real world, Rae was embarrassed to be an adult virgin. In this world, Rahela was expected to be one, and it was all ridiculous. Nobody could even tell the difference.

She wished she'd got the chance to be a harlot. She hadn't slept with her old boyfriend, but she'd intended to. Getting sick didn't make Rae virtuous, it disrupted her plans. Now the prime minister was calling her a harlot. Oh no, whatever you do, don't accuse me of being cool and sexy!

Rae smirked. "My prophecy-giving mouth is up here. What, the chosen of the gods can't have fantastic tits?"

When she turned back to Octavian, a knowing look had crept into the king's eyes. Specifically, the look said, I know you, Rahela, and I know what you're after.

In the future, the Emperor was a famous cynic. It seemed the king was cynical already. "I will be emperor, and you by my side always, I suppose?"

"Forgot to mention," Rae said calmly. "The gods say my stepsister Lia is your one true love."

This pause felt personal.

"Tomorrow when you condemned me to a horrible death, you would've announced after too many years wasted with an ice-hearted viper, finally you beheld radiant truth. Wouldn't you? Don't lie to your prophet."

Octavian sounded lost at sea, and floundering. "Something like that?"

Rae nodded wisely. "You would die for Lia, you would kill, you would commit complicated murder-suicide. Those who fate has joined together, let no criminal put asunder. Happy ending! Now the gods have enlightened me, I regret my jealousy. And the treason. And the frame job." Rae patted the king's arm. "Sorry about all of that. I support your love."

"Thank you…?" Octavian didn't speak as though he said those words often, and he didn't sound as though he meant them. He seemed to be grasping for logic in the universe. After a moment, he took a deep breath. Kingly dignity fell over him like a mantle. "I cannot picture someone of your rapacious nature dedicating yourself to divine purity. You are an ice-hearted, murderously selfish viper. Hardly material for a holy prophet."

There was a pause.

"Ah," said Key. "One of those epic speeches people love so much."

Rae nudged Key hard. The Emperor was vicious towards those who wronged him. Rae loved that about him. In her experience when people hurt you, you got hurt. They got away with it. Revenge was a fantasy as beautiful as true love.

Still, even her favourite character wasn't allowed to talk to her like this.

"Your Majesty. You declare a woman an ice-hearted viper, every word on her forked tongue a lie. But you believe she meant ‘Baby, I want you'?"

" What? "

The king's eyes went poison green with insult. Rae had no desire to be out of the ‘execution for treason' frying pan, into the ‘execution for insulting His Majesty's game' fire. This was the future Emperor. He could doom or save her.

Rae had always judged the ladies-in-waiting desperately scrambling for the Emperor's favour. Now she realized there was a lot of pressure to win his favour. This was a reality TV show, with a dozen girls who wanted to be chosen by a single bachelor. Except this bachelor possessed the power of life and death over his subjects.

What had Rahela done that was so wrong?

Other than framing her stepsister for treason.

She was unexpectedly saved by the prime minister. "The Harlot wouldn't dare speak so if Lord Marius was here."

The king was the Last Hope's friend. When Lord Marius became his rival in love and Octavian rose as the Emperor, that would change.

She saw the tension that would become hatred when Octavian snapped, " Lord Marius is not the king."

Rae snatched the opening. "And he won't be the Emperor. You will. When danger comes to our land, you climb down into the ravine for the sake of your beloved. Any mortal would have died, but you are divine. The abyss unlocks your potential, and you assume control over the living and the dead. Seriously, you will be powerful A.F."

The king's brow wrinkled. "A.F.?"

" As foretold ," Rae intoned hastily. "I watched you climb down the sheer cliff into the abyss. I saw you rise, death at your back, your crowned shadow stretching across the mountains to claim first this land and then all lands. You will pluck the sun from the sky without burning your hands, so only the cold moon remains to witness your power. Your sword will be broken, reforged and renamed, and driven through the heart of the world. You will be invincible, irresistible and unforgivable. The future is sure. The future is glorious." Rae risked a wink. "Sounds good, right?"

She left out the part where Octavian would have to fight the legendary immortal guardian of the abyss. He would refuse the dark jewel the First Duke of Valerius offered, despite the evil power it promised, for love of Lia. Afterward, he and Lia would reunite when he stormed the throne room carrying the First Duke's head, in a scene Rae found deeply romantic and Alice found deeply disturbing. The climax of the first book was too complicated to explain right now. Best save it for a surprise.

Octavian leaned back against the jet-and-jewel wings of his throne. There was no belief in his eyes, but a new gleam of appreciation woke in the chilly green. Apparently guys enjoyed hearing about their destined glory.

"That sounds very fine, Lady Rahela, but you have no proof of these incredibly wild claims."

"Ah, it's proof you want?"

"Yes?" said the king.

"That would be proof I can see the future?" Rae pursued. "To be clear, once you receive irrefutable evidence that I can predict events yet to come, you will pardon me and make me your official prophet?"

Long ago, a lord had killed an Oracle and died immediately after. If you killed a prophet, the gods would strike you down.

If Rae was declared a true prophet, she was safe.

The king smiled, sending a ripple of amusement through the court. His smile fed on the response to become a sneer. "In that case, my lady, I will promise anything."

"Great!" said Rae.

There was another silence, this one expectant. Everybody had settled into being smugly entertained by her raving.

Everybody, with a single exception. As the seconds ticked by Key murmured, "Why are you doing this to me?"

The throne room made voices echo. Key's whisper wasn't as discreet as it could have been.

"I'm amazed you risked your new promotion to aid her," remarked Octavian. "What did she offer you?"

" I'm amazed nobody understands I'm in this for the money!" Key snapped back.

If Key kept this up, he'd get whipped in the Room of Dread and Anticipation alongside Rae.

"I'm waiting on the right moment for the dramatic reveal," Rae informed Key quietly, and raised her voice. "My king. On the count of three, a messenger will burst through the throne room doors. He will announce for the first time in a hundred years, royal guests have come to us from a land across the sea. They hail from…"

Shit, she'd forgotten the name of the other country. In fantasy novels, names were often a bunch of random syllables strung together, easier to write than say, and tough to remember. Rae eyeballed the court wildly for inspiration. The court stared in a collectively hurtful way.

"A land of ice," Rae decided. "They come from a land of ice to make Eyam their allies. A princess will join the ranks of your ladies-in-waiting-to-be-queen. She is known as Vasilisa the Wise."

"After this display, a wise woman would be wondrous to behold," Octavian murmured.

A ripple of laughter followed his witticism.

Rae waited for the laughter to subside. "Remember, there's absolutely no way I could've known this. One."

An anticipatory hush failed to materialize. Every time silence began, it was broken by a snicker.

"There's a merchant who always said I was born to be hanged," muttered Key. "I suppose he too received holy visions of the future."

"Have faith," Rae muttered back, and called, "Two!"

Key shook his head. "I never have faith in anything."

A disturbance sounded in the halls of the palace. The crowd stirred. When no new event followed, the excited stir became murmurs of speculation. Rae was pretty sure the ministers were laying bets on what the king would do to Rae, once she was proved a blasphemer as well as a traitor.

It couldn't be worse than red-hot iron shoes.

Could it?

Rae shouted, loud enough to drown out her own fear, "Three!"

Silence filled the room, ringing like a bell and roaring like the sea.

The king didn't restrain his mocking smile. Rae supposed kings weren't in the habit of restraint.

She'd been sure the timing was right. This was why she'd made the deal with Key and Emer, to reach the throne room fast. The messenger was due to arrive when the king and ministers were still assembled, after the Last Hope gave evidence for Lia.

People said, don't shoot the messenger . If the messenger didn't want to be shot, he should be prompt!

"Guards," began Octavian.

The doors of the throne room burst open.

"Announcing a messenger from the northern shore," intoned a guard.

The messenger entered, clothes and hair windblown.

"My king, I bear tidings. Visitors hail from a land across the sea!"

If the messenger expected that his words would cause a sensation, his expectations were fulfilled. If he'd anticipated everyone would hang on his next words, he was disappointed.

The court turned as if the king and his ministers had but a single head, with a single neck for it to swivel upon. King Octavian's court focused on the Beauty Dipped In Blood, who had confessed to treason and predicted the future. They stared open-mouthed, with disbelief so profound it was becoming faith. Except Key the guard. His expression lit with incandescent wickedness, sharpening into something vicious and gorgeous and for the first time truly engaged. Flicking still-wet blood off his leather gloves, he gave a single admiring nod.

Lady Rahela punched the air in triumph.

"Boom," declared Rae. "Holy prophecy."