The Rebel Assassin

Chapter 49: The Day of Prosperity, Part Three

*shows up to wattpad a month late with starbucks*

WHAT'S UP MY LIFE IS A MESS HERE'S AN UPDATE

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An odd sort of pride filled Irina's chest as she stood at the right hand side of the dais and watched Magali ascend the few steps up to stand, elevated and alone, before the crowd of nobles. It wasn't that Magali hadn't come a long way — Irina was simply unused to being much impressed by anyone outside herself, and that made the feeling strange. Nonetheless, there was no denying her sense of pride in how much the other girl had changed. Half a year ago Irina would have said the princess would never amount to much.

Then again, half a year ago she would have said she would never care for a Guardian, her older brother didn't have the spine to manage the auxiliary guard, and King Aeric would give up the throne only when he died... a lot could change in half a year.

She shot a quick look to the other side of the dais to make sure Luca was showing off his new spine. He had been different too, ever since Magali commanded him and his guards to kill the Sage's men. Well, if that was what it took to show Luca he could have danger and excitement while still doing his duty to the crown, then so be it. He had taken his job far more seriously than he had ever taken anything since then.

It might have been because he was scared of Magali now. But if Magali couldn't rule through being loved — and hardly anyone could — she would have to rule through fear. She tried not to think about the time she had said something to that effect to Nemia.

"Those are the only two options? Fear or love?"she'd asked incredulously. "What happened to sheer competence? What about ruling through being fair?"

Being competent didn't guarantee obedience, and being fair was hard.

She had to stop thinking about Nemia.

"On this Day of Prosperity," Magali began, and her voice ringing through the hall called Irina back to herself. The throne room's arches and curved walls magnified her voice to an unnatural volume and depth. No one in the crowd would dare make a sound out of place in this room, or risk their faux pas being audible to everyone. "On this day in the first year of my reign, we celebrate the renewal of Solangia's throne during a time of great disturbance. There are those within our country who would rather see this throne upended, this castle torn down—"

"It's not the castle I have a problem with," someone snickered.

Irina's mouth dropped open at the blatant rudeness. Someonehad forgotten the throne room's acoustics and would certainly regret trying to whisper a snide comment in their neighbor's ear — but, glaring at the crowd, Irina could see everyone craning their heads for the offender and no one looking mortified, as they should.

She glanced quickly at Magali, who must be able to see who it was from the dais. But the queen's face was white with either rage or shock, and her eyes were locked abovethe crowd. Was she staring at the coat-of-arms pendants — that hung halfway up the two-story tall walls, from a golden rope stretched taut from wall to wall — trying to gather her calm after the interruption? She had to react to troublemakers faster than this.

There was no way to tell Magali she would never gain their respect if little jibes got to her. Sighing, Irina faced forward, and felt her own face drain of color. Magali hadn't been looking at the pendants.

Morane Laerhart was standingon the taut rope, hands in her pockets, utterly at ease. And somehow, though Irina kept blinking to be sure, she wasn't a mirage.

Someone in the crowd, catching on, shrieked, and Laerhart threw her head back and laughed. That insolent tone in her laugh — now Irina didn't know how she had mistaken her voice for even a moment.