Volusian tilted his head as though listening to something. “Yes. I can probably reach the Oak King. Do you want me to go now?”

“No, not until I have a plan to—”

There was a click outside my door as the lock was undone. I hissed for Volusian to disappear as I shoved my half-ass wand into my satchel. I’d placed the broken chair as far as it would go into a corner earlier and hoped no guards would notice it.

They didn’t. Their concern was getting my chains back on. Maybe Varia didn’t think I’d do anything drastic with my friends’ lives on the line, but that didn’t mean I could walk around her palace free and unencumbered. My guards escorted me back to the main floor and then into what could only be called a throne room.

I didn’t have a throne room. My predecessors might have, but I’d ordered my people to strip down the rooms in my castles and make them utilitarian. When I had official visits, it was usually in cozy sitting rooms with little pretension. Dorian didn’t technically have a throne room either, though he did have a raised throne sitting high in his dining hall, which he would sometimes sit in when he wanted to look impressive.

But this ... this was another story. The room was huge and could have doubled as a ballroom. Larger-than-life portraits of past monarchs lined the walls. The wide, smooth floor was made of more damarian jade, and pillars lined the room in a way that drew the eye toward the front. There Varia’s throne sat, even higher than Dorian’s dining room throne. The chair itself was fantastically huge, its back made of elaborate gold filigree and bedecked with gems. Despite the room’s enormity, that throne was the only furniture in the entire place. It again made sure all attention went to the front—and that those who came to see the queen were uncomfortable.

I had a feeling this room probably filled up regularly with petitioners and courtiers. Today, it was just me and my guards. Our footsteps echoed around the room as we approached the stairs leading up to the throne. I refused to be awed by the throne and instead studied the paintings on the walls. The names were meaningless until I saw Ganene again. Only, she wasn’t alone in her portrait. An inscription read Queen Onya and Her Daughters, Ganene and Nissa. Queen Onya was a stern-looking figure with a giant crown, providing a contrast to the woman on her left. That one was young and delicate-looking, very beautiful with a nervous expression. The woman on Onya’s right had a hard look to her and a very strong resemblance to the woman sitting before me.