InRule of Wolves, the creator of the Grishaverse brings back her beloved characters for another explosive tome.
No rage showed on her face.
No blood rushed to her smooth cheeks.
She was a queen and conducted herself accordinglyback erect, body poised, expression composed.
The wedding would take place one month from now.
Plenty of time to make the journey over land or in the new luxury airship her engineers had constructed.
Plenty of time for a clever queen to start a war.
But right now, Makhi had to perform for the ministers arrayed before her in the council chamber.
Her mother had passed only a month ago.
Makhi had been crowned scant days after her mother’s funeral.
Her reign was a new one, but she intended to ensure it was long.
“I see no personal message from Ehri,” she said, leaning back on her throne.
She rested the invitation in her lap and allowed her brow to furrow.
“It is a concern.”
“We should be rejoicing,” said Minister Nagh.
They looked like a forest of stern trees.
“Is this not the result we hoped for?
A wedding to seal an alliance between our nations?”
You would have us cower behind our mountains forever.
“Yes,” she said with a smile.
“It is why we risked our precious Princess Ehri in such a savage land.
Minister Zihun cleared her throat.
“Your Most Celestial Highness, Ehri may not actually be happy, but only resigned to this.
“We are Taban.
What we want is what our country needs.”
The minister bowed her head respectfully.
“Of course, Your Majesty.
Shall we pen your reply?”
“I will do it myself,” said the queen.
“As a sign of respect.
It’s best we begin this new partnership on the right foot.”
Somehow the minister’s approval made Makhi prickle even more than his opposition.
She rose and, as one, the ministers took a step back, following protocol.
The silk train of her gown sighed against the marble floor, as fretful as one of her advisers.
Makhi knew exactly how many steps it took to reach the privacy of her rooms from the council chamber.
She had made the walk innumerable times with her mother, and her grandmother before that.
Now she counted downfifty-six, fifty-fivetrying to release her frustration and think clearly.
It was like being pursued by a ghost.
If she told her guards to slit his throat, they would do it without hesitation.
She waved off the waiting servants and turned to the Tavgharad.
“Do not disturb us,” she instructed.
The storm that stayed.
The palace had been built by those queens, and it was still a marvel of engineering and beauty.
It belonged to the Taban dynasty.
It belonged to the people.
And for this brief momentjust a few measured steps in the march of the Taban lineit belonged to Makhi.
She felt her spirits lift as they entered the Court of the Golden Wing.
Makhi walked out onto the terrace.
A green glass table had been set with pitchers of wine and water and a platter of late figs.
In the garden below, she saw her niece Akeni playing with one of the gardener’s boys.
A surprise, given that her mother had the depth of a dinner plate.
“Aunt Makhi!”
Akeni shouted from below.
“We found a bird’s nest!”
“You must not touch the eggs,” Makhi called down to them.
“Look but do not touch.”
“I won’t.
Do you want flowers?”
“Bring me a yellow plum.”
“But they’re sour!”
“Bring one to me and I’ll tell you a story.”
She watched as the children ran toward the southern wall of the garden.
The fruit was high in the trees and would take time and ingenuity to reach.
“She is a good child,” said Yerwei from the archway behind her.
“Perhaps too biddable to make a good queen.”
“Princess Ehri is alive,” he said.
She grabbed the pitcher and hurled it down onto the paving stones below.
She tore the curtains from the windows and shredded them with her fingernails.
She buried her face in the silk pillows and screamed.
She did none of those things.
Instead she tossed the invitation onto the table and removed the heavy crown from her head.
It was pure platinum, thick with emeralds, and always made her neck ache.
She set it beside the figs and poured herself a glass of wine.
Servants were meant to attend to these needs, but she didn’t want them near her right now.
Yerwei slithered onto the balcony and helped himself to wine without asking.
“Your sister is not supposed to be alive.”
She wasn’t wise or beautiful or interesting.
All she could do was simper and play thekhatuur.
And yet she was adored.
Ehri was meant to be dead.
What had gone wrong?
Makhi had made her plans carefully.
They should have ended with both King Nikolai and Princess Ehri deadand Fjerda blamed for the assassinations.
She had chosen her agent well: Mayu Kir-Kaat was a member of Princess Ehri’s own Tavgharad.
She was young, a talented fighter and swordswoman, and most importantly, she was vulnerable.
And of course, Mayu Kir-Kaat didn’t want that for her brother.
They were twins,kebben.
There was no closer bond.
Mayu would take her own life and the life of a king to save him.
Queen Makhi set down her wine and poured herself a glass of water instead.
She needed a clear head for what was to come.
What might have happened had her brother been born?
Who might Makhi have been?
It made no difference now.
Ravka’s king was still very much alive.
And so was her sister.
But Queen Makhi couldn’t be sure of how bad.
Did Nikolai Lantsov know of the plot against him?
Had Mayu lost her nerve and told Princess Ehri of the true plan?
It couldn’t be.
She refused to believe it.
The bond of thekebbenwas too strong for that.
“This invitation feels like a trap,” she said.
“Most marriages are.”
“Spare me your wit, Yerwei.
If King Nikolai knows”
“What can the king prove?”
“Ehri might have much to say.
Depending on what she knows.”
“Your sister is a gentle soul.
She would never believe you capable of such subterfuge, and she would certainly never speak against you.”
Makhi swatted the invitation.
“Then explain this!”
“Perhaps she fell in love.
I hear the king is quite charming.”
“Don’t be absurd.”
Princess Ehri had taken Mayu’s place in the Tavgharad.
Mayu had masqueraded as Princess Ehri.
Mayu’s task was to get close to King Nikolai, murder him, then take her own life.
As far as Princess Ehri knew, that would be the end of it.
They had been assigned to Ehri’s household, but they followed the queen’s orders alone.
Makhi’s ministers would never know of the plan she had put into place.
So what had gone wrong?
“You must attend this wedding,” Yerwei lectured.
“All of your ministers will expect it.
This is the realization of their plans for peace.
They think you should be thrilled.”
“Did I not seem thrilled enough for your liking?”
“You were as you always were, a perfect queen.
Only I saw the signs.”
“Men who see too much have a way of losing their eyes.”
“And queens who trust too little have a way of losing their thrones.”
Makhi’s head snapped around.
“What do you mean by that?”
He had served as personal physician to her mother and her grandmother.
It had been that way for hundreds of years.
Makhi wasmeantto be queen.
She had been born for it, raised for it.
Her mother had chosen Ehri.
Soft, sweet, beloved Ehri, whom the people adored.
“Promise me,” her mother had said.
“Promise me you will abide by my wishes.
Swear it on the Six Soldiers.”
“I promise,” Makhi had whispered.
Yerwei had heard it all.
He never seemed to age.
All of that would end with Ehri on the throne.
“But Ehri does not want to rule” Makhi had attempted.
“Only because she has always assumed you would.”
Makhi had taken her mother’s hand in hers.
“But I should.
I have trained.”
“And yet no lesson has ever taught you kindness.
No tutor has ever taught you mercy.
You have a heart hungry for war and I do not know why.”
“It is the falcon’s heart,” Makhi had said proudly.
“The heart of the Han.”
“It is the falcon’s will.
That is a different thing.
Swear to me that you will do this.
You are a Taban.
We want what the country needs, and this nation needs Ehri.”
Makhi had not wept or argued; she’d only given her vow.
Then her mother had breathed her last.
Makhi said her prayers to the Six Soldiers, lit candles for the fallen Taban queens.
She’d tidied her hair and brushed her hands over the silk of her robes.
She would have to wear blue soon, the color of mourning.
And she had so much to mournthe loss of her mother, the loss of her crown.
“Will you tell Ehri or shall I?”
she’d asked Yerwei.
“Tell her what?”
“My mother”
“I heard nothing.
I’m glad she went peacefully.”
That was the way their pact had been formed over her mother’s cooling corpse.
And how a new queen had been made.
Now Makhi leaned her arms on the balcony and breathed in the scents from the gardenjasmine, sweet oranges.
She listened to the laughter of her niece and the gardener’s boy.
Only one thing would end that suffering.
“I will see my sister wed.
But first I must send a message.”
“What is it you intend?
You know your ministers will read the note, even if it is sealed.”
“I’m not a fool.”
“One can be foolish without being a fool.
If”
Yerwei’s sentence broke without warning.
“What is it?”
asked Makhi, following his gaze.
A shadow was moving over the plum orchards beyond the palace wall.
Makhi looked up, expecting to see an airship, but the skies were clear.
The shadow kept growing, spreading like a stain, speeding toward them.
“What is this?”
“Akeni, get down from the tree!
Come away from there right now!”
“I’m picking plums!”
the girl shouted, laughing.
“I said right now!”
Akeni couldn’t see beyond the walls, this black tide of death that came on without a sound.
“Help her!”
But it was too late.
The shadow slid over the palace wall, turning the golden bricks black and descending over the plum tree.
It was as if a dark veil descended over Akeni and the gardener’s boy, silencing their laughter.
“My queen,” said Yerwei urgently.
“You must come away.”
All it had touched lay gray and wasted.
All that lay beyond was lush and green and full of life.
“Akeni,” the queen whispered on a sob.
Only the wind answered, blowing in off the orchard, scattering the last, faint tendrils of shadow.
Nothing remained but the sweet smell of flowers, happy and unknowing, their faces turned to the sun.
