Chapter 14: Her Own Face

The sun-chamber sat at the top of the east tower, a round room with a glass roof built to catch the Sun Lord's light when he visited.

Dusk was pouring through it, red as a forge.

We climbed the last stair together: Phlegon at my shoulder, Lampos behind us, and my father, who had not said a word since the hall.

Aethon and Eous came last.

They had followed us up without being asked.

Myrrha stood at a stone table in the middle of the room with her sleeves rolled to the elbow.

The two halves of the crown lay in front of her, joined at the break by a thin river of melted sun-gold.

It was still wet, and it was glowing.

A Sun Palace sentry stood in the doorway across from us with a spear.

He looked at his boots.

"He opened the vault chains," Phlegon said quietly. "One link at a time."

"He was glad to," Myrrha said.

She didn't turn around.

Her voice was calm and clear, and it was not the voice I had known for sixteen years.

"Myrrha," Aethon said.

"Don't."

"Little bird, what are you doing?"

"Don't call me that." She wiped her hands on her sash and finally faced him. "Don't call me anything. I'm tired of answering."

The tears did not come.

I watched for them.

Eous made a small sound.

"You want to know why," Myrrha said. "All of you do. The great, gold, grieving family. Fine."

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