Zuher's fall.

The words were a punch to the gut.

Zuher's fall.

In all her imagining of what might come after she arrived at the palace, Iliana hadn't once considered a route in which the emperor fell. There was a simple reason--if all the assassins and rebels of the continent couldn't end the madman's reign, what was someone like her supposed to do? Snark him to death?

Yet, here was a witch doctor telling her that something she did, or was going to do, would begin the end.

It was impossible.

And not only that, it also spelled her death. And war. Revolution.

An empire couldn't function with just one person, especially one rumored to be as mad and tyrannical as Zuher. There had to be councilmen, generals, spies, and an army of people willing to follow him. Afterall, while he held an endless amount of power in Reotak, he never left the country. Yet, he ruled half of the world.

The motivation of those who followed him was pretty easy to guess. Because of what she'd seen so far, Iliana was willing to bet a majority of them were demons--which mean they had nothing to lose, and everything to gain by leaving Zuher in power.

Someone like him didn't fall just because of death.

They lived on in their policies, in the world they created where nobility thrived, and the common folk begged for scraps. To truly eradicate them, one had to strangle their influence and set fire to the heart of their power. Simply killing a tyrant did nothing. Fear sparked in her stomach, even as she urged the panic squeezing her lungs to relax.

It was impossible. Aatami was probably as mad as the king himself. He was making up a groundless story without evidence. There was no way a common girl like her could--

Her eyes fell on the symbol of silence sketched in Aatami's journal. The symbol of how, for some reason or another, the gods had linked her fate to Lykos'. A likely Letian charm that some random witch in Chuteros had no reason to know.

'If sacrificing one person saves an empire, that life is worth it.' Lykos' voice in her thoughts weighted her stomach like iron. Gods, it felt like years since she'd heard him say those words. At the time, she'd been distracted by what it meant of their destination.

Not now.

"Calm down," she finally croaked, catching Aatami's attention. While she'd been silently melting down, the witch had begun a jittery trip around the room, snatching various objects and papers off their shelves with seemingly no rhyme nor reason. "You can't just--what exactly is going to happen? Where did you see these? Was it Koun?"

She pointed to the charms, and the witch stopped moving. She could almost see the gears churning in the erratic witch's head as they stared first at her, then at the notebook.

"No. I showed him. I showed him what I saw. Thirteen years ago. I saw it. The red strings tying the champions. Fate tangled into thorns. Pieces were missing, details hidden behind an amber string. But, what I saw, what I lived in my mind, and I shared."

Aatami suddenly crossed back to the table, flipping through the notebook until they found a place that satisfied them. A dead leaf laid stuffed between pages decorated with cramped, Reotakian scrawl.

"Dead lands sucked dry by overpopulation and Umae's scorn. Starved bodies tossed in mass graves as the world slowly rots. Centuries lived by only a handful. Then, nothing."

Ice crept into her veins, and Iliana could only stare. "I...don't get it. But, surely the gods would stop something like that."

And what did it have to do with her? Or Zuher being dethroned?

"The gods can't touch Kikin's lands. And it is against Kikin's very nature to get involved. A god can't go against their own domain."

And wherever Zuher conquered, he outlawed the worship of anyone but Kikin, expanding the war god's territory.

"Go back to the beginning," Iliana decided. "Explain this from the--"

"No," Aatami shook their head, snapping the journal shut as they did. "No time. You're expected to present yourself to his majesty. You arriving is enough. None of this is you. It is all them. You're the binding, they're the fire."

Iliana opened her mouth to argue, but was interrupted by Aatami grabbing her hand. The pain she'd forgotten was dragged to the forefront of her mind as they pressed their fingers against the slice on her palm, dragging fresh blood to her crimson skin.

"I cannot bind you. The favored one ensured that."

The favored one must have been Eumelia. She'd mentioned something of that when they first met--how if she bound Iliana, no one else could. Had that been for this reason?

"Zuher will be expecting me to do so, however, so I must mark you in some way. It must be new, and raw. He can't suspect you, or you will die before the hero arrives. That would ruin things, so you must be marked."

Irritation at the situation, at the lack of answers and the fear clutching her stole Iliana's voice. "If you would just explain--"

"Explaining could ruin things," Aatami argued, releasing her hand. They stirred ink into the bloody mix with jerky hands coated in a golden glow. "It could create threads I haven't seen. And there are already so many amber blocks, so many blank spots that could change a brighter future. You can't know what is to come, but I had to tell you this, so you would understand what you are supposed to have, that you don't."

How was she supposed to understand any of this?

"All slaves of Zuher are bound by magic. If they attempt to harm him, or ignore his will, their very blood will boil. They die."

Iliana couldn't breathe.

That was what Eumelia had saved her from by binding her song? Boiling alive because of her errant tongue, or a thoughtless attempt to defend herself?

"If he finds out you don't have a binding, he will search for another method, and I will die. If I die, I can't help you."

Aatami pulled out a familiar tool. It was identical to the one Eumelia had used to tattoo her. The witch gestured at Iliana's neck, obviously meaning to put the mark there. She hesitated, but then slowly shifted forward on her seat, tugging down the collar of the shift she wore. If it kept her alive, she wouldn't argue a magicless tattoo.

"You can't sing to him. Not normally, not without the feathers. He's a demon created by Kikin themselves, and therefore immune to many of the children's gifts. Still, this is supposed to bind your voice. If you charm someone, he will know. Practice in secret the skills you will need, but never show them."

She nodded, an uncertain chill stealing her voice as Aatami dipped the bamboo tip of their tool into the ink. It was too much, too quickly. Only some of what she'd been told made sense, while most of it felt like the ramblings of someone who'd seen too much, and lived a tortured life in this palace for far too long.

"I will only see you when you're injured after this. Try not to see me. I can help you without sharing a room."

Time passed in numbed moments after that. The tattoo was painful, and garish. It consisted of a large floral outline that started just below Iliana's right shoulder and curled across her collarbone, before stopping at the base of her throat. She didn't recognize the exact flower it was meant to be, but knowing what she'd learned of Zuher so far, she was willing to bet it symbolized either him, or the Reotakian royal family in some way or another.

She hated it.

Seconds after they'd finished, Aria stormed back into the room and with a few sharp words to Aatami, led her back into the hall. Iliana's fingers traced the cotton bandage covering her collar, a hollow sensation spreading throughout her body. Was this a mark of ownership, she wondered, similar to the slave tattoos? When others saw it, would they know? Her stomach twisted into knots, the reality of the situation settling in her veins like ice.

Corinna was waiting in the next room they visited. She stood next to a wooden rack that held a simple, yet expensive looking gown. It was composed of multiple layers of sheer, forest green fabric that was pulled thin at the waist with an intricate lace back. As she reluctantly gave into being dressed, she discovered that the neckline plunged to a barely decent degree, showing off the bandage of her tattoo, and the curve of her breast, but managing to conceal just enough to be appropriate in upper society.

Once forced into a corset, and laced up to an uncomfortable degree, Iliana was urged to a seat where her hair was twisted into a half-bun that left only a few, loose bangs curling down from her head.

Gods, she thought as the maid placed a mirror in her hands. I look like a lady.

"That will do, thank you, Corinna," Aria murmured as Iliana stood. The maid offered a deep curtsy and hurried away.

"Where am I going that I need to be so dressed up?" Iliana asked.

Surely this was a bit much for simply meeting Zuher.

"His Majesty is holding court," was the only answer the guard gave before grabbing at her arm. Iliana flinched, but didn't resist as she was pulled from the room, and led once again through twisting halls. The two silent guards flanked their sides as they walked, warding off some of the eyes that followed their group.

"Court?" Iliana asked.

Aria pursed her lips. "The word of your arrival prompted nobility to gather over the last week. He's holding court in the dining hall. You're to attend as well."

Iliana's stomach growled at the mention of food. A pain she hadn't been aware of seemed to gnaw at her insides, reminding her that she had no idea how long it'd been since she last ate. Aria glanced at her, a knowing edge to the mostly blank expression the woman wore.

"If you behave, you'll likely be given a meal as well."

The unspoken was obvious. If Iliana acted as she had before, the opposite was true.

They reentered the main building. The halls they traveled Iliana vaguely recognized as being towards the front of the palace. The open doors they paused at were flanked by several guards. The room beyond held several long, mass dining tables. At the head of it were three, much smaller tables, two of which were empty. Seated at the middle one in a large, ordanent throne-like dining chair was Zuher.

Seated a seat over from his left was a faintly familiar man with dull brown hair. He wore a perfectly pressed black frock and trousers, and a pair of metal eyeglasses tucked over the collar of his white top. The moment she saw the scar that cut across his right eye, and Nicolet seated to his left, she remembered where she'd seen him before. He had to be Ayo, the man who'd stood with Nicolet in the nightmare. His tanned skin made it unlikely the man was Letian, but what she could recall of the conversation in Lykos' dream implied he'd raised the duke.

On the emperor's left were two, unfamiliar figures. Before Iliana had the chance to study them, however, there was a scoff behind her, seconds before a woman shoved her way past, nearly pushing Iliana over in her impatience. She barely bit back a rude retort as the red-haired noble woman she'd seen when they arrived shot her a dismissive sneer and sashayed up to Zuher's table. The barest hints of a greeting met Iliana's ears over the buzz of conversation in the dining hall as the woman offered the emperor a shallow curtsy, then took a seat to Nicolet's left.

The demon duke leaned towards her, murmuring something. The woman must not have liked what he said, because she snapped an unheard response and leaned forward. Her gaze met Ayo's, and he sighed, before waving his hand. The woman smirked, then got up and moved to the right side of the table, sitting down next to one of the unrecognizable nobles.

Aria nudged Iliana forward as the drama finished, and she drew a deep breath into her lungs.

The job before her was simple. Be polite, use all the manners that Kyril had beat into her as a child, and not get herself tossed back into the dark. She could hold her tongue if it meant her sanity.

Right?

"Move," Aria hissed under her breath.

With all the willpower her body held, Iliana forced her feet forward. The buzz of the dining hall died to dull whispers as she approached Zuher's table. A hundred eyes all waiting for her to speak.

"Iliana of Zuher," Aria introduced.

Embarrassed heat surged through her face, seeming to center on the tattoo displayed on her collar as Iliana forced herself through the steps of an appropriately deep curtsy.

She could do this.

"Greetings to the emperor." 

A/N: Short, I know, but I really wanted to put out an update for my birthday! Plus, this felt like a good ending point. 

So, finally some answers, but also more questions. How do you guys feel about what Aatami said? What about Iliana's reaction to it?

Think she'll manage to hold her tongue? 

See you next week! After that update it's back to biweekly.