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Couples danced between each other, beautiful fabrics passing in a fluttering of silk as Tatiana watched from her golden throne. She had given up her home for this heinous country, borne them a son, and yet still the side-eyes and whispers said one word: enemy. Her husband had left an hour ago in the company of a young nobleman’s daughter, and still she sat here. Across the room, her hazel eyes met piercing blue, blond hair, a crooked smile. The new Fjerdan Ambassador. She smiled back. She could have whatever she wanted, after all, she was the Queen of Ravka.
The man stood as she entered. “It is my grandmother’s wish that I shall be crowned in three weeks, to give the ministers and crowds time to gather.”
“And what of your mother’s wish?” The man asked.
The woman turned on him, eyes blazing in fury. “She wished for Ehri to become queen! Ehri knows nothing of diplomacy, or making decisions, and cares for nothing but her infernal music. Shu Han needs strength, someone who can make difficult choices. None need know her wishes. What say you, Minister Yerwei?”
The man bowed. “I will be honoured to serve Queen Makhi.”
The Sun Queen, the cheers had cried out, as she swathed herself in blue and gold silk and put her hand on a prince’s arm.
“It isn’t a palace,” Mal admitted.
“I never wanted to be queen.”
“Don’t lie.”
Alina smiled. “Maybe a little.”
She looked up at the large building, so familiar despite having been entirely rebuilt in the last weeks. It wasn’t a palace, but it was her own tiny kingdom, population: a dead saint, a man she had killed, a motherless boy, and a mangy orange cat. But she would see it grow, and it was hers.
The queen’s doll, the king’s mistress, the Grisha of no colour, the ruined. She had a colour now, blue on crimson, as unique as she was. She stared at the people before her, and she focused on those in red, with black or grey. They had mocked her once, for being a pretty little plaything, but she was no longer pretty, and she was no one’s plaything. Now, she was their leader, chosen by a saint, declared by a king. She stared, and it was the others who bowed their head and glanced away. Genya Safin wasn’t ruined, but ruination.
The sirens blared as Nina stepped out of the gambling hall. People surged behind her, around her, screaming. She walked slowly, unconcerned. This was a chaos of her own making, her new power over death forming the perfect distraction. Perhaps, when someone had named the order of the Living and Dead they didn’t mean it quite so literally, but if so they should have thought harder about their words. She would return to Matthias, and together they would go to Ravka, to Fjerda, build a better world. For she was Nina Zenik, a deathrender, a corpsewitch, the Queen of Mourning.
In every port, Inej would hear a different name for herself. The scourge of slavers, the Sankta of the seas, Captain of the Wraith. The first time she heard Queen of Pirates, she thought of a boy in a black suit earnestly saying to her “Kings and Queens”.
He waited at her berth while she docked. He wore no gloves in deference to the cold, instead holding out a single, bare palm for her to clasp with her own. They had no royal blood and wore no crowns, but they held their heads high, and the crowds parted before them.
Queen Zoya surveyed the group that would become her closest advisors. Tolya and Tamar, who had no country, but swore and performed faithful service to Alina, then Nikolai, now her. The triumvirate; Genya, with glistening eyes but a smile on her scarred face and a hand on the barely visible bump under her kefta, Adrik and Leoni, who were pretending not to be clasping hands under the table. Her eyes met with the beautiful, golden, clever man who would become her prince consort as soon as he built the courage to ask. He gave her a small, encouraging nod.
Outside the room there were others; a tentative alliance with the queen of Shu Han, an inexplicable arrangement with a Fjerdan prince and his waffle-loving fiancé, a port on the Ravkan coast that was always open to a ship named The Wraith though it flew no colours, a young woman with white hair and a house full of the laughter of children. She had many enemies, she likely always would, but she was also not without friends, who would stand by her side in years to come.
“Let’s change the world,” she said, and deep inside a dragon rumbled his agreement.