The Priory of the Orange Tree

‘Have you ever been to Lasia, Majesty?’

‘No. I could never leave Virtudom.’

Ead felt that familiar twist of irritation. It was hypocrisy at its finest for the Inysh to use Lasia as a cornerstone of their founding legend, only to deride its people as heretics.

‘Queen Rosarian died fourteen years ago,’ Loth stated. ‘Then…Sigoso did not do it under Draconic control.’

‘Not all evil comes from wyrms.’

For the first time, she saw Sabran Berethnet for who she was beneath the mask: a young and fragile woman who carried a thousand-year legacy on her shoulders. A queen whose power was absolute only so long as she could produce a daughter. The fool in Ead wanted to take her by the hand and get her away from this room, but that fool was too much of a coward to act. She left Sabran alone, like all the others had.

‘Despite their fear,’ Chassar continued, ‘the Lasian people did not want to convert to this new religion. Cleolind told the knight as much and refused both his terms. Yet Galian was so overcome with greed and lust that he fought the beast nonetheless.’

Loth almost choked. ‘There was no lust in his heart. His love for Princess Cleolind was chaste.’

‘Try not to be irritating, my lord. Galian the Deceiver was a brute. A power-hungry, selfish brute. To him, Lasia was a field from which to reap a bride of royal blood and adoring devotees of a religion he had founded, all for his own gain. He would make himself a god and unite Inysca under his crown.’

‘Once Sab was old enough to bear children of her own,’ Loth said, ‘Crest sought help from King Sigoso. She knew he reviled Rosarian for refusing his hand, so together they conspired to kill her, with Crest hoping the blame would drift toward Yscalin.’

‘And Crest still considered herself pious?’ Margret snorted. ‘After murdering a Berethnet?’

‘Piety can turn the power-hungry into monsters,’ Ead said. ‘They can twist any teaching to justify their actions.’

She had seen it before. Mita had believed she was serving the Mother when she executed Zāla.

‘Crest waited then,’ Loth said. ‘Waited to see if Sabran would grow to be more devout than her mother. When Sab resisted the childbed, Crest sensed rebellion. She bribed people to enter the Queen Tower with blades to frighten her […]’

‘It would be unconventional. You are not my subject, and you are in disgrace,’ the Unceasing Emperor mused, ‘but it seems we are destined for a change in the way of things. Besides, I like to defy convention now and then. No ruler made progress by playing a safe hand. And it keeps my officials on their toes.’ […] ‘They never expect us to actually rule, you know. If we do, they call us mad.

‘They raise us to be soft as silk, distract us with luxury and wealth beyond measure, so we never rock the boat that carries us. They expect us to be so bored by our power that we let them do the ruling in our stead. Behind every throne is a masked servant who seeks only to make a puppet of the one who sits on it. My esteemed grandmother taught me this.’

‘I will have no say in [the choosing of the new Prioress]. The Priory considers me a traitor.’

‘That may be, but it is possible that you are about to face its oldest enemy. And if you could slay the Nameless One…your crimes would surely be forgiven.’ If only that were true. ‘Mita Yedanya, unlike her predecessor, looked inward. Now, a little inwardness is reasonable, even necessary—but if your climb to this position at the Inysh court is anything to go by, Eadaz, you also look outward. A good ruler should know how to do both.’