When I’m a few feet away, I stop. We eye each other as they look at me and then beyond as if trying to determine where I’ve come from. Fair question because there’s nothing behind me but miles of empty sand and ocean. It makes me wonder why guards protect this entrance, but I guess that’s neither here nor there. Maybe Cyan is the paranoid type.

“Hi,” I say, waving like an idiot as they stare at me wordlessly. I drop my hand, suddenly nervous, as heat pricks up the back of my neck that has nothing to do with the temperature.

“I am here to see your king.”

Oh, very smooth, Lor. That’ll convince them. I attempt to infuse some authority and poise into my posture, but I’ve clearly failed as the guard on the left stares at me like I’ve grown another head.

“Now,” I add, hoping it makes me sound sufficiently bossy. That’s what a queen would do, right?

The guard narrows his striking blue eyes.

“Who are you?” he asks.

“I’m . . .” What do I say? I can’t just blurt out that I’m the Heart Queen. First, who’ll believe me? Second, too many people in Ouranos view my family in a less than favorable light. I’m just as likely to be gutted with a stake and left for the vultures as offered the welcome mat.

“I’m Serce’s granddaughter,” I say, hoping that’s vague but also specific enough. I wait for some sign these words mean something to this pair.

“Who is that?” the guard on the right asks. “And why should we care?”

I blow out a breath and scratch the back of my scalp.

“Please. Will you just go and tell your king that? He’ll know what it means.”

The guard scoffs. “Run along, sweetheart, unless you want to spend a night in His Majesty’s dungeon.”

“Just for asking a question?”

“For disturbing the peace.”

I make a show of looking at the empty space around us, at the deserted beach where not a single other soul is present, and then raise an eyebrow with a pointed look.

He clears his throat. “Nevertheless. No one demands an audience with the king.”

“I’m not demanding. I’m asking. Very politely.”

The guard sighs and shakes his head before he exchanges a look with his companion.

“Very well,” the first guard says. “Follow me.”

“Really?” I say, hardly daring to believe my luck. This still doesn’t guarantee Cyan will see me, but at least it’s progress. “I mean . . . yes, okay. Good. Take me to your king.” I throw my shoulders back again, trying to pretend I belong here.

He starts to roll his eyes but catches himself like the well-trained soldier he is. He opens the dark blue door made of some kind of shimmering material and gestures me ahead.