'No, Grand Master, I will not.'

'Then, Your Holiness, what is your challenge?'

'Hyram, there is a pact between our clans that was made generations ago. If you violate that, you sully us all. Wiser men and women than I decreed long ago that only a reigning king or queen may take the office of speaker. They decided this because they understood that to govern the nine realms a speaker must first prove themselves worthy. Queen Zafir does indeed sit on a throne and may make an excellent speaker – twenty years from now, when she has proved herself. I call on you to honour the pact between our clans and name me as your successor.'

'And who would be yours, Shezira?' hissed Hyram, glaring at Prince Jehal.

Jehal smiled back at him. 'Someone who is wise and able, Hyram, and who does more to earn the honour than spread their legs.'

Hyram shot to his feet. 'Viper!'

Shezira glared at them both. 'Prince Jehal, this is a sacred time. Show some respect.'

Jehal lolled his head. 'For what?'

Hastily, in the moment of silence that followed, Jeiros unfurled the scroll and read the text aloud: 'As was written in the time of Narammed, the word of the speaker has been challenged before the assembled Kings and Queens of the Nine Realms. This council will disperse and reform one day from now, at dawn, when a new speaker shall be chosen, by the word of the speaker, or by the vote of the Kings and Queens of the Nine Realms should the challenge remain.'

Jehal groaned and slumped across the table. Shezira wondered for one startled moment whether he'd somehow been poisoned, but then he raised his head. 'Do we have to? Another day of acting like startled rabbits? Not daring to eat anything, keeping away from high places, constantly being surrounded by our armoured dragon-knights.' He bowed at Shezira. 'As you say, Your Holiness, this is a sacred time, and I apologise for my previous words. But let us end this now, while we are all here and unquestionably alive. No more childishness. We all know where we stand.'

Shezira frowned. 'I sympathise, but there is a proper way, Prince Jehal.'

Lady Nastria leaned into her and whispered. 'You should agree with him, Holiness.'

Shezira looked at her. She cocked her head. Why?

Nastria drew closer. Her words were so quiet that Shezira could barely hear them. 'Because Princess Jaslyn will return from the alchemists at any moment, and when she does, Prince Jehal is finished. Use him now, Your Holiness, and then throw him away.'

'Are you sure of this?' she mouthed back.

'As sure as I am of anything, Holiness.' Nastria straightened and turned back to the table.

Shezira did the same. Perfect. It was hard not to smile. She looked at Hyram and then at Jeiros. 'I am agreeable.'

Hyram smiled back at her. 'No. I say we wait.'

Jeiros was looking at Queen Zafir. And Zafir was nodding. Jeiros appeared uncomfortable. 'Apologies, Lord Hyram, but this is a matter for the Kings and Queens of the Nine Realms. You no longer have a voice in this.' He avoided Hyram's gaze. 'Do any object?' When everyone was silent, he sighed. 'Very well. Queen Shezira, Queen Zafir, one by one you shall each call a monarch to your cause. Whoever the kings and queens decree shall be speaker.' As he finished, Shezira glanced at Zafir. This is your last chance to end this, to avoid making a fool of yourself. But Zafir's face was a mask. She met Shezira's eye for a moment and her expression didn't flicker at all. She walked slowly to stand in front of Hyram. Shezira took her place by the alchemist and the priest.

Jeiros bowed to her. 'Queen Shezira, you have issued the challenge. Which king or queen do you call to your side?'

'I call King Valgar.'

Valgar didn't bother to say anything. He simply got up and walked to stand with Shezira. Jeiros bowed across the table to Queen Zafir. 'Which king or queen do you call to your side?'

Zafir stayed silent; it was Hyram who answered. 'King Sirion. My cousin.'

Sirion was standing right next to Hyram, which meant that Hyram couldn't see what Shezira could. He couldn't see the tautness in Sirion's face, the whiteness of his knuckles. When he didn't speak, Hyram turned slowly to look at him.

'I'm sorry, cousin. I've always felt this crown wasn't really mine, that I was taking care of it for you, waiting for this day. But a pact is a pact. I must declare for Queen Shezira.'

The warmth of victory blossomed in the pit of Queen Shezira's stomach. Two out of two. Hyram looked aghast, his face frozen in horror. Even Jeiros looked stunned; in fact, the only one around the table who didn't seem surprised at all was Queen Zafir. Thank you, Jaslyn. At last you've done something useful.

'King Tyan,' she said. As hard as she tried to avoid it, her voice held a tremor of victory.

Jeiros bowed to Prince Jehal. 'As King Tyan's regent, you have the right to speak with his voice.'

'Yes, I do.' Jehal grinned. He stood up, leaned over the table and looked straight at Hyram. 'Old man, you've slandered me, you've even tortured me. I'd like nothing more than to see everything you value turn to ash before your eyes.' He glanced at Shezira. 'Your Holiness, will you name someone to follow you in turn? Here and now? A pact, such as the one Hyram here seeks to break? For what they're worth.'

Shezira nodded. 'You, Prince Jehal. I name you as my chosen successor.' It left a sour taste in her mouth. But if Nastria is right, I can relieve myself of that obligation. When I go, Valgar can have it; Almiri will take his throne and Jaslyn and Lystra could yet be queens. Antros, if you're watching, I hope you're smiling.

Jehal's smile, when he looked at Hyram, was so broad it almost split his face in two. 'Does that please you? Without your treachery I would never have had this. You've betrayed your allies. Your own cousins have turned against you. What possible reason could I have to ally myself with you? Think about that for a moment. Because that is what I choose. I choose Queen Zafir.'

Shezira didn't move a muscle. She couldn't; Jehal's words had frozen her solid. She heard King Silvallan declare for Zafir as well, and then King Narghon, but it all seemed so far away that she barely heard their words. She couldn't think. For a moment the world seemed to fade completely; when it finally returned, Jeiros was halfway through another speech. He'd opened the second of his two scrolls, and Zafir was the next Speaker of the Realms.

55

Undone

When he was done, Jeiros took the ring from the centre of the table. He bowed before Zafir and put it on her finger. One by one, the monarchs knelt before her and kissed the ring.

Nastria watched as her queen knelt and kissed like the rest of them. With calm and dignity, as a queen should. It was the most inspiring thing she'd ever seen. To be so noble even in defeat.

More noble than she could ever be.

There would be a reckoning for this, she decided. No matter what Queen Shezira ordered her to do, there would be a reckoning. If she'd been a man, with a man's strength, she might have tried to kill Prince Jehal with her bare hands there and then. As it was, it would have to be something more subtle.

She wondered briefly whether any of what she'd seen between Jehal and Hyram had been real, whether it had all been an elaborate charade designed for that one moment of treachery. Hard to believe, but whenever Hyram was around, everything always came back to King Antros and his unfortunate demise. Was that what was behind this? Was that why he'd betrayed the pact between their clans?

In the endless hours that followed, Queen Shezira let nothing show. Nastria wanted to take the queen and whisper in her ear: It can be undone. Zafir is named, but she's not crowned! Until High Priest Aruch hands her the Adamantine Spear in the Glass Cathedral in front of the full assembly of dragon-knights, it can be undone. But there was never a chance; they were never alone. So she watched Prince Jehal and she watched Queen Zafir. There were games and entertainments, a display of courage and skill from the Adamantine Guard, tournaments of horsemanship for the lesser knights and of flying skills for the dragon-riders. Queen Zafir watched them with the same blank mask she'd worn in the Hall of Speakers. Jehal, on the other hand, was animated, excited, intoxicated with his victory. The two of them never looked at each other. Not once.