PART FOUR
The Second Son’s freedom, his lightness, was short-lived. While the New Maiden’s sacrifice opened his eyes to the truth of Her word, it also changed Her. Where once She was the sun, now She was a new moon—a notable absence where there ought to be light. Day by day, She grew diminished.
Gone was the thoughtful, enigmatic leader whose followers clung to every word. Now She skipped sermons, Her legacy unraveling stitch by stitch as She retreated inward to battle the demons inside. Sebastien begged Her to return his pain, but despite their repeated attempts, She could not dislodge the darkness that had corrupted Her will.
Sebastien feared what this evil—his evil—could do in the hands of one so influential. He knew the burden of this anger and helplessness. If his pain infiltrated the New Maiden’s word, it could bleed into future generations and destroy Her original vision, poisoning Her legacy.
The world would not survive a New Maiden dampened by darkness. For the good of all creation, the Second Son needed to rescue the New Maiden’s soul.
—Psalm of the Second Son
22
Tal’s proposition gave Elodie pause. As the Queen of Velle, her duty was first and foremost to her people. What was best for her constituents was to align herself with the Republics by way of Tal and the Second Son. But to do so meant turning her back on the New Maiden.
It was the same struggle Maxine had refused to face at Elodie’s behest: comrades versus country. Elodie’s love for Sabine, while new, was immense and undeniable. But love for her country had been instilled in her from birth. One was profoundly hers. The other, for everyone.
Country above all, Tera Warnou had taught her daughter. Above even her family. Above even her heart. Tal knew this. He was likely counting on it.
But it was not only Tal she would be saying yes to. He carried with him Sebastien, the Second Son. His purpose was nebulous, His word agitating and unclear. Elodie could not place her faith—already a fragile thing—in what she did not understand. But she could attest to Sabine’s gentle instincts and her careful heart. The New Maiden’s power would only ever be used for good. The queen could not say the same for Tal and the Second Son.
Elodie crossed the room in three steps. “No.”
The word itself was simple, but the emotion it held was not. With that single syllable, their relationship shattered like a crystal goblet against a marble floor. The fragments lay at their feet, the shards so sharp, the slivers so thin, that there was no way it could ever be pieced back together.
If Tal was surprised, his face did not show it. “As you wish.”
It broke her heart to look at him. It instilled in her an impossible rage. Their friendship had been meant to last a lifetime and instead was ending with stones thrown. She reached for the doorknob.
“Lo?” She paused but did not turn around. “When I see you next,” Tal told her, “I cannot promise you will walk away unscathed.” He sounded truly sorry.
He was not fully gone, then. Tal was in tune with himself enough to feel remorse. Which meant that while Elodie had not been able to get through to him, there was one other person who might.
Elodie ran all the way to her brother’s room. Outside Rob’s door she heard the telltale signs of his composing. Cymbals crashed, followed by long bouts of silence. Staccato notes rang out from the piano, as though he were testing flavors of icing for a cake. The queen did not bother to knock. He would not have been able to hear her anyway.
Rob had one foot on his sofa and a violin tucked beneath his chin. “Really, Elodie,” he said, twisting a tuning peg errantly and then plucking the string to confirm its pitch, “your lack of consideration for other people’s privacy is astonishing.”
She did not take the bait. “I need your help.”
“What gives you the idea that I’d be willing to assist?” Rob placed the violin back in its velvet case and scribbled six notes onto the staff paper in front of him.
“Because I am your sister.”
Her brother met her eyes. “I don’t find that a particularly compelling reason.”
“Enough,” Elodie snapped. “If you will not help me out of love, then help me out of loyalty. I am your queen. Assist me, or I will have no choice but to charge you with treason.”
It pained her to be resorting to baseless threats to get her brother’s attention. They had once been so close. As they stood in Rob’s chambers, surrounded by his instruments and the songs that filled his head, their strained relationship reverberated like a dissonant chord.
He sighed, world-weary. “What do you want, Elodie?”
“I need you to reason with Tal,” she said. “He plans to invade Velle with an army from the Republics in order to apprehend the New Maiden.”
“You did not give her up?” Rob eyed her curiously. “I had thought you might. You’ve been so willing to sacrifice whatever is needed to protect your reign.” His tone was bitter as citrus pith.
Her brother already knew of Tal’s plans, then. Knew, and had done nothing to intervene.
“You would let the Republics wage war?” She could not believe that Rob, who abhorred the military, could have abandoned his pacifist heart so freely. “You would let him take Sabine?”
“I would do nothing,” her brother said, “because I have no influence. But I see no reason why you are so adamant about protecting her. Times are worse, under the New Maiden, than they’ve ever been before.”
“Yes,” Elodie said, rolling her eyes, “because your life has been such a dizzying maze of unfavorable circumstances.”
“What do you know about hardship?” Rob spat back. “You received all our mother’s attention, stood self-important in every circumstance, and now, as queen, you float around like your actions have no consequences. Frankly, it’s insulting to those of us who will have to pay for your mistakes.”
It was the cruelest thing her brother had ever said to her. It was also the most honest. Rob had always been that way, full of contradictions, knowing how to both rile her up and calm her down. But the intention behind his words was darker than ever before.
“My mistakes?” Elodie was furious, her voice taking on the particularly high pitch of near hysteria. “I have done nothing but protect this country since Mother’s death.”
“You put Brianne to sleep so that you might claim the crown,” Rob accused, “then gallivanted about with Sabine, playacting a commoner in order to find a cure. You did not marry Edgar, and now he has enacted his revenge on the entire country.” He fiddled with the lute leaned against his bed so that he would not have to look at his sister. “You abandoned me here, and you never once apologized.” His bitterness hung about the room like a tapestry.
“Do you know how much I despise these castle walls, Elodie? How much the monarchy feels like a noose around my neck? I am a prince born to command orchestras, rather than armies. A boy who lusts after his best friend instead of his ladies-in-waiting. My father, my mother, and my sister have all made it clear: Velle’s court holds no place for me. That is why I have aligned myself with Him,” Rob said, tears welling in his eyes. “His word founded the Republics, who believe in the dissolution of the monarchy. If it weren’t for the crown, I would be free. If it weren’t for the throne, I might have a family.”
Elodie’s heart snapped like an overtightened viola string. Twice today, she had been presented with the insurmountable pain of a person whose soul she thought she’d known. That both Tal and Rob had been able to keep such hurt a secret from her left her frightened at the other intimations in her life she might have missed.
“I am sorry you are so unhappy,” Elodie said softly. “I wish that you had told me sooner.”
