“Let Her will be done,” Elodie said simply. She had pledged herself to the New Maiden, heart, body, and soul. In Her name, they would fight, and in Her name—Elodie hoped—they would win. As the people in the room rose to steel themselves for battle, Elodie reached for Sabine. “Be safe,” she said, pressing a swift kiss to the girl’s temple.
“And you,” Sabine said, her expression unbearably tender. “I’ll see you on the other side.” Then the New Maiden took her leave from the War Room, flanked by Silas, Artur, and Katrynn.
“Majesty.” Maxine bowed. “It has been an honor—”
“And it will remain an honor,” Elodie interjected. She could not tolerate goodbyes, however precautionary. Maxine had told her only to sacrifice what she was willing to lose, but the Queen of Velle was not prepared to give up anything, certainly not the people she loved most. “Her will be done,” she repeated to Maxine.
The commander nodded, clearing her throat gruffly. “Her will be done.”
At last, only the three Warnou sisters remained. Brianne and Cleo had protested when Elodie first told them her plan. They wanted to be on the ground in the middle of the action, but the queen would not hear of it. She needed them safe, would not—could not—be like her mother, willing to sacrifice her sisters in favor of herself. But now that the cursed day had arrived, the queen thought she could see relief in their eyes at the prospect of staying by Elodie’s side as she played the most infuriating role in the entire operation: sitting duck.
“Let’s go,” Elodie said, leading the way to the queen’s study. Tal had given her an ultimatum: Let him in or die fighting. She knew the barricade the army would face at the city’s western gate would only serve as a distraction. She expected that Tal would come for her directly, would demand she surrender to him face-to-face. And so the Queen of Velle settled herself behind her desk to wait.
She did not expect the knock to come so quickly. At the sharp rap of knuckles against the oak door, Elodie froze. Cleo shook her head emphatically, but Brianne peered through the keyhole. “It’s Rob.”
Elodie tapped her fingernails against the desktop. She had not spoken to her brother since their altercation in his apartments, had pointedly kept him far from their plans, for fear he would leak intelligence to the other side. But the urgent tolling of the bells was unmistakable. It stood to reason that he would have questions. “Let him in.”
Cleo arched an eyebrow but said nothing as Brianne unlocked the door.
Rob stormed in, hair wild and eyes wide. “What’s happening? Why aren’t we evacuating? Where is everyone?”
“At war, dear brother,” Elodie said carefully. “We are at war.”
Rob spluttered incredulously. “I think I would know if we were under attack.”
Elodie pursed her lips and gestured to the window. “See for yourself.” The bells continued to clang.
Rob strode across the room to peer out of the study’s small window, which overlooked the royal garden. Below, Silas and the Anders siblings were organizing the Favoreds’ descendants, stationing them at every gate to welcome those evacuated from Harborside.
“Is that… a cannon?” Rob turned to face them, bewildered.
“That,” Cleo confirmed brightly, “is a cannon.”
“How did you manage to—”
“I am so tired of being underestimated,” Elodie snapped. “No one doubted Mother this way.”
“That’s not an entirely fair comparison,” came a reedy voice. Elodie’s siblings jumped as the bookshelf moved forward—and René stepped out from the shadows.
“What are you doing here?” Elodie gaped at Brianne’s father. This was not the ambush she had expected.
“Oh, come now, Elodie.” René looked at her mockingly. “Surely my presence is not such a surprise, considering my true allegiances.”
Brianne scowled at her father’s mention of the Second Son. Cleo slipped an arm protectively around her younger sister’s shoulders.
“How did you know about this passageway?”
René chuckled. “I have utilized it for years. Particularly useful to ensure the crown kept the Church’s best interests in mind. And to intercede when it came time for debts to be paid.” His eyes sparkled with malice.
It dawned on her like a brittle blue morning. Her mother had entered into some kind of contract with the Second Son. René, who served Him, even as he playacted devotion to the New Maiden, would have known the details of that agreement. The passage would have allowed René to pass unnoticed between chapel and castle, watching her mother, waiting for the perfect opportunity to collect what He was owed. It would have been so simple to poison a teacup left on an unobserved tray, to clear the throne for his daughter and the Second Son.
Elodie turned to her siblings. She could not subject them to the possibility of their mother’s murder. “Pray, leave us a moment,” the queen said. “I’d like to have a word with René alone.” Her siblings exchanged curious looks but, in the end, obeyed. When the door had closed behind them, Elodie leveled her gaze on the former Chaplain. “Did you murder my mother in the name of the Second Son?”
“Yes,” he said easily, as though accepting a tea biscuit. Elodie had anticipated his answer, but it still left a bitter taste on her tongue. “If it’s any consolation,” he added, “she should have known to expect it. The parameters of their agreement were very clear.”
The hairs on the back of Elodie’s neck stood straight like soldiers. “And what might those parameters have been?”
“He would clear your mother’s path to the throne, and in return, she would bear three daughters.”
Elodie made a strangled sound. She had always known Tera Warnou to be a reluctant mother, but she could not have imagined that even her children were born as pawns in her quest for power.
“This trade was most beneficial to the both of them,” Brianne’s father continued. “The Second Son had been eliminating third daughters for centuries, but He grew weary of the chase. He wanted to raise Her and nurture Her in order to abolish Her, once and for all.” René offered the queen a catlike grin. “Which is where I came in. And why your mother was so… cooperative when it came to the custody of Brianne.”
“She wouldn’t have allowed it,” Elodie argued, even as her heart sank with the weight of the truth. Tera Warnou had always kept her distance from her youngest daughter, but Elodie had never imagined the reason to be so sinister.
“Faith requires absolute commitment,” René said. “And getting what you want demands sacrifice.” He shrugged softly. “Your mother sought power above all, and she was willing to betray her children to get it. So, no, Elodie, no one ever doubted Tera’s prowess, but that was because they knew the true power came from Him.”
He continued, “You, however, have been most irritating. Meddlesome and headstrong. Impossible to wrangle, despite the prophet’s best efforts.”
Elodie looked about the room suspiciously. “And where is Tal?”
“Tallon sends his apologies, but he has”—René cleared his throat—“more important matters to attend to.”
“More important matters than a war he incited?” Elodie snapped. She had been preparing for a very different battle and was now struggling to maintain the upper hand.
“I think what René is saying,” came a new voice, “is that you are not important to the Second Son. But,” the lilting voice continued, as it drew nearer, “you are rather important to me.”
A shadow stepped forth from the passageway, revealing himself as none other than Edgar DeVos. “Many thanks, René,” Edgar said, handing the man a bag of clinking coins. “You have been so very helpful.”
