Sterling’s home had become her prison. Days had gone by without her seeing anyone except a servant girl who brought her meals and the occasional snippet of news—if it could even be called that.

  At first, it was nice. Sterling had been exhausted from her time in the human prison and then the journey to Nyrene. She’d caught up on her sleep and enjoyed not being on the back of a horse or required to train.

  Now, however, she was bored.

  There was no word from Gavaran on when her official coronation would be or if there even would be a coronation.

  But of course there had to be. That was how these things worked, wasn’t it?

  When she’d asked the servant who brought her breakfast, the girl hadn’t known anything. She also hadn’t been able to say anything about where Gavaran was or what he was doing, only that he was busy and couldn’t see her right now.

  You don’t need permission. You are the queen. Everything here belongs to you.

  That wasn’t true, though. These rooms had once belonged to Seraiah. Everything in them reminded her of her sister.

  And she hated it. It made her feel like she was getting something used.

  A queen deserves only the best, the voices whispered in her head.

  Sterling agreed.

  She stared down at her reflection in the bathing pool. Even though the voices had snuck past her walls and were whispering to her again, her eyes were a clear, bright silver. No sign of shadows anywhere.

  And yet she couldn’t shake the feeling of wrongness.

  Sterling leaned closer to the water, studying her reflection. Was there anything different about her? Did she look like a queen?

  No, she looked as she always had. The only visible difference was her hair. The dye she’d used to darken her hair in Daralis still clung stubbornly to her strands, making it appear as if she had dipped it in muddy water. Sterling slapped her hand angrily against the water. It was another thing she needed to fix.

  Tired of staring at her own face, she stalked out of the bathing chamber and back into the bedroom with its giant bed. A bed Seraiah had slept in.

  Sterling kept moving, returning to the living area. In her absence, another servant had appeared, waiting silently for her instructions.

  "I want everything removed from these rooms," Sterling informed the girl.

  "Everything, Your Highness?"

  "Do you not understand the meaning of the word? Do I have to explain it to you?"

  "No, Your Highness. I will have it done immediately."

  "Good. And send someone who can change the structure. I would like to make some changes to fit my needs."

  And erase the memory of Seraiah.

  "Yes, Your Highness," the girl curtsied, but otherwise didn't move.

  "Well? Don't just stand there."

  The girl fled, leaving Sterling alone again.

  She turned to survey the room. Yes, she would make some changes—make this room her own—so that nothing would remind her of Seraiah. It would be better that way.

  The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  It all belongs to us, the voices whispered. We will have everything.

  Sterling’s eyes went to the ocean glittering out the window. Perhaps she would go for a walk. Although it had been implied she shouldn’t leave her rooms, no one could stop her. She was the Queen, after all.

  Sterling flicked her hair over her shoulder and headed for the door.

  After fifteen minutes of wandering the halls and stairways, Sterling was well and truly lost. She refused to admit it, though. Several servants had already stopped to ask her if she needed anything, but she’d sent them on their way.

  This was her home. She would figure it out on her own.

  The hallway she was in now was lined with doors. Most stood open, revealing empty rooms stuffed with elegant furnishings. Some appeared to be sitting rooms, while others furnished with a single large table might be dining rooms or maybe meeting rooms.

  As she walked down the hall, peeking into each one, the sound of a raised voice reached her. Curious, Sterling followed it to the only closed door she’d seen so far.

  “She has been returned as you have asked,” a male voice said.

  Sterling guessed it was Gavaran, but she could not say for certain.

  The response was muffled.

  “Of course, my queen,” the voice said. “Is there anything else you would ask of me?”

  My queen? How dare he.

  Sterling’s hands clenched into fists. The only one he should be calling “my queen” was her. Before she could think clearly, her hand was on the door, shoving it open.

  We will show him.

  Gavaran’s back was to her, hunched over something on the table. He didn’t seem to have noticed her entrance.

  “Please, continue with your other projects,” a female voice said, although Sterling could see no one else in the room. “We will speak again soon.”

  It was clear the conversation was about to come to an end. Sterling rushed to the table, glimpsing a pale face in the mirror-like surface of a bowl before Gavaran upended it.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” he demanded, using his height to look down his nose at her like she was some kind of vermin.

  “I think I should be asking you that. Who were you speaking to?”

  The liquid from the bowl dripped off the edge of the table and disappeared into the rug beneath. Where at first glance it had appeared to be molten metal, now Sterling could see it was nothing more than water.

  “That is none of your concern,” Gavaran said, pulling his boot out of the way of the dripping water. He didn’t bother to right the tipped bowl.

  “As your Queen, it is my concern, and you will answer me.”

  One brow rose. “You are a queen in name only. Know your place. I will summon you when you are required.”

  Before Sterling could lift a finger or call to her magic, Gavaran swept out of the room, leaving her to stare at a soggy rug.

  We will teach him a lesson, the voices chattered.

  No, not yet. His time would come.

  After her encounter with Gavaran, Sterling sucked up her pride and had a servant show her to the stables, where she ordered a horse to be prepared for her.

  No one tried to stop her as she rode out of the city gates, but she could feel eyes watching her. She wondered what they would do if they suspected she was truly trying to leave. Send an army after her? She snorted. Like that would stop her.

  It was a short ride from the dragon gates to the beach. As soon as they hit the sand, Sterling pulled her horse to a stop and slid from its back. She tugged off her boots, abandoning them next to her mount and set off toward the water.

  It was even more beautiful up close.

  The rush of the waves rolling in and out was mesmerizing. There was so much power behind each one.

  Sterling sank onto the sand, close enough to feel the spray against her skin. She licked her lips, enjoying the taste of salt on her tongue.

  This was what she had been missing all her life.

  She wasn’t sure how long she sat there watching the waves go in and out before she allowed her eyes to close and reached for her magic. Strands of golden light poured from the crack in the metal box in her head, becoming a flood when she threw back the lid.

  Then she called to the water.

  And it answered.

  Droplets rose in the air, pulled from her clothes, the sand, and the ocean itself. If only Kai could see how much she’d improved.

  Someone clapped behind her.

  It was enough to break Sterling’s focus, and the droplets rained down, soaking her.

  “My apologies for interrupting,” Cylan said, stepping into her line of vision. He didn’t sound sorry in the least. “I was sent to fetch you.”

  “Fetch me?” she repeated, cocking her head. “Like a dog?”

  “Gavaran’s words. Not mine.”

  “It sounded to me like they came from your mouth. Therefore, I believe they are your words.”

  “Water magic?” he asked, ignoring her comment. “Isn’t that your brother’s specialty?”

  “Yes, but he doesn’t have nearly the power I do.”

  “Sure,” he said, eyes flicking over her and pausing on her drenched clothing.

  Sterling stared at him, remaining silent. She may not want to dispose of Gavaran quite yet, but his minion was a different story. Besides, she still needed to practice her magic, and the ocean wasn’t the only source of water in front of her.

  She reached for her magic again, and this time called for water from a very specific source.

  The voices shrieked with glee inside her head.

  And Cylan shrieked with pain.