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There, we waited.

And waited.

And waited.

It was indeed a slow and stately dance. We peered into the mirror, gazed at the sky. We ceded our places briefly to others, letting them catch a glimpse. We strained our eyes gazing toward the distant walls of the City, trying to spot the other twelve mirrors. The bloody stain spread slowly over the moon, creeping gradually toward total obscurity.

There was only a thin sliver of silver-white moon yet visible when a voice at my ear whispered, “A word, your highness. Behind the oak. Believe me, it is more important than this so-called marvel.”

The damned eunuch.

I turned, but he was already gone, a lithe, dark figure slipping through the throng. I glanced at Sidonie beside me. She was absorbed in watching the mirror, but she looked up and met my eyes.

“Sunjata,” I murmured, too low for anyone else to hear.

“Now?” she asked in disbelief.

I nodded. “I’ll be right back.”

“Be careful,” she said.

I grabbed the nearest person behind me, a surprised Siovalese engineer. “Have a quick look,” I said, squeezing past him. “It’s nearly time.”

I left him stammering thanks and worked my way through the throng to the far side of the oak tree. Sunjata was there, pressed against it, barely visible in the shadows. I made my way to him, forced against him close as a lover due to the crush of people. His dark eyes gleamed, inches from mine.

“What the hell do you want?” I said through gritted teeth.

The crowd surged. Sunjata swayed, steadied himself with a hand on my waist. I felt his lips at my ear once more. “I’m sorry.”

“For wha—” I began.

Pain, thin and piercing, seared my side. It felt like he’d driven an enormous needle into my kidneys. I tried to gasp, but my tongue was cleaved to the roof of my mouth. The sky overhead whirled, rotating around the bloody moon. Ice-hot fire ran in my veins.

“Listen to me,” Sunjata whispered urgently. “I’m sorry. This was the only way to shield you from it. You’re going to lose your wits. It’s madness, but it will pass. The fever will break in a month.”

The needle was withdrawn.

Cold flames continued to race through my veins. It felt like my skull was on fire. I tried to raise my hands to claw at it, but my knees were threatening to give way beneath me. Sunjata grasped my shoulders, holding me upright.

“Go to Cythera,” he hissed. “Ask Ptolemy Solon how to undo what’s done here tonight. He may even tell you.” He released my shoulders, and I began to slump.

Somewhere, an emerald glow arose.

Brightness flashed.

The crowd gave a collective gasp.

I heard it, but I couldn’t speak. Couldn’t see anything but the roots of the oak tree that were rushing up at me, gnarled and writhing. A tangle of serpents. Deep in my throat, I mewled with fear. Serpents. Roots. I scrabbled at them. A dark hand caught mine. There was a tug on my finger, somewhat removed. A tangle. A knot of gold. A hand knotted in my hair, lifting my head.

“I’m sorry about this, too,” Sunjata whispered. “But I don’t dare disobey. It’s a hard business serving two masters.”

He let go my hair. My head fell. All around us, no one noticed, staring rapt at the bloody sky or shoving for a peek at the mirror.

“You’re lucky your mother loves you,” the eunuch whispered. “Go to Cythera.” And then he was gone and madness took me.

That was the last thing I understood for a long, long time.

Thirteen

I had gone mad before.

When Dorelei was slain, I lost my wits. I remember bits and pieces of that terrible night. Running through the woods, my sword in hand. Charging the bear. Berlik’s blow laying me open. Dorelei, dead.

I don’t remember much of what followed, which was a mercy.

This was different.

I lived in a world of fever-racked terror. I knew no one. Not the ones who found me after the moon’s shadow had passed. Not the ones who took me back to the Palace and tended me. Not myself. I knew only that I lived in a world bent on destroying me.

Things came alive.

Sweat-damp