Page 56 of Eyes of Kings

“I have to go,” Calla says.

“Don’t tell Anton I just propositioned you!”

The palace is empty when Calla rushes through the north wing. No movement overhead, no voices below her feet. Peeling wallpaper adorned with bluebell flowers and birds with red beaks, the corners left contaminated with ash where the servants could not quite scrub it clean without taking down the wallpaper entirely. Cornices holding up the ceiling with angry black marks across their diagonal whorls. No matter how much Joselie mops the floorboards, the palace requires a proper renovation before it can be restored.

Calla stops in the north atrium. She tilts her head up. The mural of the pantheon has been here for as long as she can remember, since her first delegation visit to the Palace of Earth. When she needed an attendant holding her little hand to get around.

It is a beautiful mural. San-Er may have disowned its old gods, but it couldn’t yield up its treasures. Its rulers were prideful enough to unravel the Palace of Earth from the provinces and put it back together in their new epicenter.

“Calla, I was just coming to find you.”

Anton stops beside her. She pulls her gaze down from the mural. He has blood on his forehead. A rip torn through his jacket sleeve.

“The cells—”

“Wait,” Calla interrupts, grabbing his hand. “Not here.”

They’re already close to their designated quarters, and Calla guides Anton along quickly, glancing over her shoulder. She hurries them through the bedroom, shutting the door.

Anton swivels around.Heavens, his eyes.

All this talk about old gods and qi, and one of Calla’s only friends had been hiding the answers from her. This kingdom continues to layer lies upon lies, their history rewritten again and again until the original script cannot be understood by anyone save the scribes. Chami has the ability to grievously injure an opponent without a crown on her head. Chami possesses power delegated far past mortals. Has Chami always known aboutCalla, then? Sensed her imposter nature emanating off her from the moment she was assigned as her attendant—

“I locked Galipei in the cells,” Anton says in a rush. “He ambushed me.”

Calla cannot rid herself of this fog clinging to her thoughts. Confusion and conviction alike. “How did he get into the palace?”

“It’s not exactly well guarded at the moment, Princess. He still has the keys to every door.”

And the mayhem at the wall. What was the point—a mere distraction? Send in a god, devastate the civilians until the Crescents are drawn away, skirt into the palace to kill Anton?

Why was Chami there?

“You’re lucky you got away,” Calla says. “Galipei isn’t forgiving in a fight.”

Anton pulls up the leg of his trousers. There’s blood smeared around his ankle, forming the shape of a handprint.

“He wasn’t trying to kill me. He was trying to get a sigil onto me.”

Calla slinks closer. She grabs Anton’s leg, and a violent shudder seizes her lungs. Inhale. Exhale. A pulse starts in her palms.

“Calla?” Anton asks.

She wants to shove her hands beneath his clothes, dig underneath his skin. Root around his chest, pry open each rib. Peer behind his eyes, slot herself inside, take him hostage until she has understood what is going on here.

Anton shifts. He’s trying to draw away, bewildered by her reaction.

“Wait,” Calla commands. Her gaze snaps up, locking with Anton’s eyes, Anton’s qi. “I need you to do something for me.”

“This is rather concerning—”

Calla rises to her full height and presses up against him. Her whole body trembles with the absorption. The tips of her fingers to the innermost creases of her organs.

“Swap with me,” she breathes. “Come inside me. Let me come inside you.”

“Calla—”

She grabs the back of his head, pulling his lips onto hers. Unfettered qi bursts to fill the seams, as though they are the heavens and the earth, melding with perfect proximity before mortal life can breathe in between. Anton loosens after a moment, his resistance quieting and his hands rising to thread into her hair, pulling just below the metal band of her crown. His tongue swipes under hers: a question, an ask of entrance. Before Anton can make the first attempt,Calla plunges in. She doesn’t know how much of her qi changes with the crown, doesn’t perceive any flash of light through her half-lidded eyes. For a second, she hasn’t any clue what has changed. Except: