The Ivory Rite

Chapter 38

"You're back." Landon addresses Adair, his tone even.

"I'm back," Adair echoes, still looking at me.

I look at Landon.

Landon is staring at Adair.

"When?" Landon asks, approaching the table. I stand to greet him in a vain attempt to shift his attention to me. He glances over, then looks down at my fingerprints on the glass table. Adair hasn't bothered to move his hand.

"Just now," Adair lies.

Not true, not true, not true.

The words may as well be written across my forehead. 

"I see." Landon sits down next to me, his eyes back on Adair's face. "Does she know?" he demands. "About the rebels?"

"She knows." Adair glares at him, finally shoving some bread in his mouth.

"Great," Landon says, with false calm. "Why don't you start from the beginning." He folds his hands in front of him and waits.

"There's not much to tell," Adair says between bites, his voice low. "You know the protests have been getting worse for months, now. The one outside Ove was completely out of control. We had no choice but to set an example—"

"Months?" I interject, looking from one of them to the other. "What do you mean, months?" Landon's face pales.

"Thank you for that, Adair," he hisses, his fingertips working at his temples as though he has a headache.

"If I'm going down for under-informing her, you're coming with me." Adair's shrug is casually infuriating. Landon gapes at him, his face getting more and more red as the silent seconds tick by.

"Someone better tell me what's going on," I say, pushing my plate away. "Right now."

"We've suspected a rebel plot for several years," Adair begins, turning to face me. "After the attack at Samhain we realized the resistance is more organized than we thought. Margret made it very clear you were not to be informed, that you had enough to handle with your unveiling. When she was killed, my father decided to keep that vow a little longer. He wanted to get things under control. He didn't want to scare you."

The world around me tilts upside down. Nothing looks familiar. I'm staring at both of them like they're strangers.

"Dear God," I whisper. "This has to stop."

"Diem, it was for your own good—" Landon starts, but I cut him off, getting to my feet.

"No. NO!" I shout at them. Anger edges out my anxiety and I feel stronger for it. "I am the Queen! I don't care what Margret said. I don't care that I'm not of age. I will not be kept in the dark for another minute."

"Diem," Adair says, standing up and taking a step toward me.

"Don't you dare!" I growl at him. "I mean it. Not... another... minute." I drag each word out with uncharacteristic menace.

"It wasn't safe for you there," he says, sounding strained.

"So you've said!" I yell, throwing my hands in the air. "Unless you have anything new to tell me, I suggest you stop speaking." He hesitates. Then:

"The rebels are trying to claim you as their own." He takes a deep breath, waiting for me to respond. The only problem is I have no idea how.

"What?" I ask, dumbstruck.

"They're calling you the Rebel Queen, the Fire Queen. It's their battle cry. They're doing everything they can to associate you with that stupid legend, with Queen Allyn Laige." The worry in his expression is enough to validate his words. He's telling the truth.