She sent Edgar and the treaty back into the arms of the Republics’ commanders, accompanied by Maxine. Velle’s ruthlessness in the name of desperation had shaken the officers, and they were glad to take their leave and agree to Velle’s terms of peace. It helped that the queen had offered to pay higher tariffs. It was astonishing how easily money made allies.
Next, Elodie turned her attention to the displaced people of Harborside. Before the neighborhood could be rebuilt, it needed to be treated, cleaned, and repaired. This left hundreds without homes. She offered these citizens damages, enough coin that they could leave the city behind if they wished, enough to survive if they planned to stay. Then the queen called for the local inns to open their doors to their neighbors. Once those rooms had all been filled, Elodie offered up Castle Warnou.
Suddenly, the palace was alive with people laughing in the corridors, running through the hallways, every room finally occupied. People were desperate to make themselves useful: cooking, cleaning, sharing in the burden of running house and home. Now, instead of looking down from a bell tower at her subjects, Elodie was living among them. She could speak to them night and day, ask for their opinions, listen to their worries, hear their prayers.
This lively immersion period brought her to an inevitable realization: Velle’s people deserved much more than she could give them.
Tera Warnou had impressed upon her daughter to love her country, and Elodie did. She loved Velle more than anything—except perhaps her siblings and Sabine—but just because she loved a thing did not mean she had to control it. The pressures of the monarchy had made her tense and cruel, had caused her to lash out, to hold impossible expectations, and to exact her anger on those who did not deserve it. If Elodie Warnou wished to be good, she could not continue to wear the crown. But Velle’s law stated that only a Warnou woman could take the throne. So, in order for Elodie to abdicate, she’d first need to find a successor.
“I certainly don’t want it,” Cleo said, looking horrified the minute the offer had left her sister’s lips. “You’ve been miserable since the moment that crown touched your head. All that agony, and for what? No, thank you. If I ever need to supplement my lavish lifestyle, I’ll simply marry rich.”
Elodie went to the youngest Warnou next. “I have only just been released from a lifetime of tiaras and ball gowns,” Brianne said. “Sorry, Ellie, but I don’t think that’s what I want. I don’t even know if that’s who I am,” she added, shrugging the shoulder not done up in a sling. “One cursed reign was enough, thank you.” She shivered. Elodie could not blame her. “Anyway,” she said, gesturing to her desk covered with parchment, the ink-splattered pages laid out carefully to dry, “I already have a job. I’m the Archivist now. This is the first time in my life I’ve been able to choose who I want to be.” She smiled softly. “I won’t give that up.”
Which left only one contender.
Elodie found Silas in the garden, pruning roses. “The church is rather full,” the Royal Chaplain said. “I’m grateful to have so many worshippers,” she said quickly. “But sometimes, I miss the quiet.”
Her aunt’s face gave nothing away as Elodie made her proposal. When she had finished speaking, Silas shook her head. “I would never be queen.”
“Please,” Elodie begged. “I can’t bear it.”
“Then why maintain the monarchy at all?” Silas asked simply. “If no one wishes to rule Velle, perhaps that is a sign that it deserves to be governed by the many instead.”
Elodie chewed the inside of her cheek, hardly daring to let herself hope. “Would that work?”
“You’ve seen the way our citizens have banded together.” Her aunt clipped a bright red bloom. “In the aftermath of tragedy, very often there is hope. Let your people speak for themselves. Let them speak for one another. Let the world belong to all of us, instead of just a few. That’s what the New Maiden wanted, anyway.” She smiled softly to herself.
Elodie found peace in such a meaningful thought. She also found relief. She could not bear the pressure the throne demanded, nor would she wish for such a curse to befall anyone else. Her brother was right—it was not ethical for a single person to hold absolute power, and certainly not Elodie, who was still learning to become herself.
Rob came to see her when plans of the political restructuring broke. It was odd to observe him in her apartments. Where once he had been so comfortable, now he hovered awkwardly near the window. “Sit,” Elodie demanded, then paused. The time for her to command those around her had come to an end. “If you wish,” she added quickly.
“Is it because of me?” Rob asked. “That you are giving up the throne?”
“Yes and no,” Elodie answered him honestly. “Yes, because you were right, that the monarchy is antiquated and ill-matched for progress. No, because I want this, too. Velle deserves more than I can give it,” she said softly. “So do you.”
Rob sank onto a footstool, fiddling nervously with his sleeve. “I don’t hate you,” he said quietly.
“I should hope not,” Elodie said, but her attempt at levity fell flat. “I’m sorry, Rob,” she tried again, “that you felt abandoned. That you believed yourself alone. You never were. You never will be.”
“I’m sorry, too,” he said, unable to meet his sister’s eyes. “I just needed to hear you say it. I just needed to know you cared.”
“Our mother did not love you the way she should have,” Elodie said fiercely, “but her failure is not a reflection on you. You matter to me. You, Cleo, and Brianne are my world. I won’t let you doubt that again.”
Rob was quiet for a long time. So long that Elodie feared she might have made a mistake. Perhaps this was not what he had wanted from her at all.
“He wants to see you,” he said after a moment. Despite his best efforts, Rob could not entirely keep the bitterness from his voice. Elodie did not need to ask who her brother meant.
“I can’t,” she said simply. While Tal was not entirely responsible for the actions he had carried out in the name of the Second Son, their friendship still felt unsalvageable. They had exchanged unspeakably cruel words, had committed betrayals so fresh the wounds still wept. While their relationship would never be what it once was, perhaps one day Elodie would be ready to pick up the shattered pieces and hold them to the light. Their friendship might refract. But not yet.
Tal’s only saving grace in Elodie’s eyes was that he had not hurt Sabine. The New Maiden had returned to the castle’s courtyard at dawn, Tal’s limp body slumped against hers, exhaustion radiating from every limb. It was only after Tal and the horse had been tended to that Sabine collapsed.
The New Maiden slept for three days straight. On the afternoon of the fourth day, there came a knock on Elodie’s door. On the other side was Katrynn Anders.
“She’s awake?” Elodie asked instantly, hope fluttering in her chest.
Katrynn beamed. “She’s asking for you.”
A soft smile played about the New Maiden’s lips as the queen approached her bedside. She looked radiant where she sat propped up by pillows, not at all like she had been lost to sleep for days. Her brown eyes were bright, her cheeks flushed. The veins in her left hand ran inky black beneath her skin.
“It’s all right,” Sabine said, when she saw where Elodie’s attention lingered. Her voice was hoarse. “I chose this.” She wiggled her fingers before slipping Elodie’s hand in hers. “The darkness is mine to carry.”
Elodie traced the lines of the other girl’s veins. “I’m glad you’re okay.”
“Were you worried about me, Majesty?” Sabine teased.
“Yes,” Elodie said solemnly. “But I’m not your queen anymore.”
“Oh?” Sabine raised her eyebrows curiously. “And are you pleased with this particular outcome?”
“I chose this,” Elodie said, echoing Sabine’s sentiment. “The queendom was mine to abolish.”
“Well, then,” Sabine said, squeezing Elodie’s hand, “I’m proud of you.”
“You don’t think less of me?” Elodie asked quietly, only now allowing herself to examine her own fear. So many before her had successfully shouldered the crown. It was only Elodie who had buckled beneath it.
