Page 137 of Queen’s Gambit

‘See for yourselves what the Songstress can do. The Hierophant was blind. We were blind,’ Siras exclaimed, then pulled off his gloves. His hands, made of living wood, caught the clerics’ attention. ‘Choose her protection, choose me, and the desert will bloom again!’

I’m impressed. He understands it’s a blessing to be in your presence.

Cin’s remark made me snort. Thankfully, the Nightshade mask muffled the noise. Otherwise, I would have lost my captive audience. Instead, I added to the theatrics, and when I stepped from my pedestal, fresh grass sprouted beneath my feet.

‘This is a trick. Siras, you traitor, she’s a mage!’ A man in red robes charged toward us, but two others caught him and brought him to his knees. Siras stood slowly and marched over to them.

‘It is not heresy, Inquisitor. We were gifted a chance to save Tangra. I won’t let your fear doom our home.’ Before I could stop him, Siras drew a long knife and thrust it into the Inquisitor’s chest.

Everyone gasped; some dropped to their knees. It was harsh, but this wasn’t my kingdom. Siras knew better than I did how to end this.

‘Take me to your sacred well. I will heal this land as the gods promised,’ I stated, putting my all into the performance. If this little spectacle could prevent more deaths, I was happy to continue.

Siras bowed, then held out his hand. I placed my hand on his offered arm, allowing him to escort me into the palace. The clerics stepped back, some kneeling as I passed.

It was an eerie scene, but I held my head high as we continued.

‘Will you be safe? Once their collective mind recovers from the shock, that is,’ I asked. Despite the fountains bubbling in the garden, the breeze through the windows was so dry it burned my throat.

‘As safe as I can be. I will hammer into their heads that the Tangra they stood behind died on the shores of Tivalaran.’

I nodded. There was no point in intervening. I’d done my part as kingmaker in Tangra’s politics; the rest was up to him.

Cin, once I’m done here, we’re going home. Are you ready?

That was the part I hadn’t shared with Siras. For the last three days, we hadn’t just discussed the grand entry. He’d also explained his plans and my role in Tangra’s politics. I’d let him talk; sometimes it was easier that way.

I thought you’d never ask. We can go right now if you wish.

I shook my head, realising too late he couldn’t see me. I still need to bind my magic here. After all, we don’t want to offend the gods.

Screw the gods, Sanika; they weren’t playing fair. If I hadn’t sensed your distress, they would have taken you from me.

I wouldn’t have let them. Unfortunately, they were right. I don’t want to live a life wondering if each day would be the day I lost control. This power is growing stronger, and I’m tired of fighting it, Cin. I want to be me again.

Engrossed in my conversation, I almost missed Siras’ return.

‘Shall we?’

I followed, deep in thought. My hand felt hot, and I realised I was clutching my mother’s necklace in my fist. We walked further than I expected, along several corridors and down several floors, but the spiral stairs were never-ending. Finally, we entered a large, vaulted chamber. Marble walls and an arched ceiling reflected a shallow, shimmering pool, while the bases of the supporting columns disappeared beneath the surface.

‘That’s not a well…’ I muttered.

Siras pointed to the centre of the room where the water was a deeper blue.

‘It was a well, but the water kept rising, and those who came here often returned with gifts that led them straight to the pyre. Our ancestors built a chamber around it, then the palace.’

‘Oh… Thank you, Siras. I’m sorry, but I need to be alone now…’ Before I could finish, he knelt and pressed his forehead to the ground.

‘As you wish, Songstress.’ I opened my mouth to protest, but Siras stood and left before I could think of a reply.

With a deep sigh, I removed my shoes and waded into the water.

The cold washing over my skin was an immense relief after days in the desert. I stopped at the edge of the well, closing my eyes as the water settled. Memories of my childhood—of my mother dancing through the orchard in spring—wove themselves through the strands of my spell. I sang of new life, of renewal and new beginnings, as emerald magic surrounded the stone in my hand, connecting it to my essence.

The pressure building in my chest since my arrival in Tangra found its release. Emerald light saturated the water and plunged into the well’s unfathomable depths. My power travelled into the darkness, connecting to underground rivers. Within the abyss, something stirred, answering my call. The heat of the desert wind pricked my skin even without a sun to cause it. For a moment, my heart stilled. When it beat again, the rhythm was different, echoed by someone—no, something—else.

And it was calling to me.