“If your guards and advisors will follow me, I’ll escort them to their rooms and sleeping quarters,” Diaskia says in clipped tones.

My entourage follows her out, leaving me alone for the first time in days, and I can’t help the sigh of relief that escapes me. Weary from travel and little sleep, I make quick work of cleaning myself and return to the bedroom. Pouring myself a glass of Delsarian wine, I curl up on the bed. Despite my nerves for the next day, the wine and exhaustion lull me into a light doze.

The sleep doesn’t last. The usual nightmares I face in the lead up to seeing King Mazus again wake me before the sun rises. Those haunting green eyes replay in my mind, making me shiver. Even three hundred years later, I still viscerally remember the utter feeling of desperation, fear, and lack of agency as Mazus’s guards pinned me down while he ordered me to slit my own wrists. Still remember the panic of not being in control of my own magic—of knowing that there was no one coming to save me. I take a few deep breaths, taking time to remember that I saved myself, saved my entire kingdom, all alone. I let that thought bolster me like it always does and whisper affirmations that have become routine.

You are the last defense against Mazus. No one is coming to save you. You must save yourself.

Once the fear and panic pass, I use the extra time to take detailed care of my appearance, braiding my hair into a complex weave that circles the top of my head and doing my makeup with expert precision. The deep emerald dress I select looks almost black until the light hits it just right. It brings out the color of my eyes and pays homage to the verdant landscape of my kingdom. Embroidered with thayar flowers, the flowing layers are designed to keep me cool in the warm climate of Delsar.

I inspect my appearance in the mirror, my bright green eyes staring back at me. Ivory skin stands out starkly against the dark dress and makeup, and I adjust a few auburn coils of hair before delicately placing the crown of gilded laurel and thayar flowers atop the intricate coif.

I can’t keep my mind from wandering to one of my earliest memories. Seated in front of my mother at her own vanity, she had delicately combed the knots out of my hair before braiding it away from my face. Then she placed a real laurel wreath atop my head.