Natalia didn’t stop running until she’d exited the Vulpus Solarium and emerged through the marbled archway into the temple gardens outside. Her slippered feet crunched on the gravel pathways, her purple robes billowing behind her and snagging on thorns.

A bitter laugh scraped against her throat, but she swallowed it down.

Natalia knows her place.

They had given her one, certainly. Crafted it for her with careful hands, wrapped her in silken words of duty and honor. She had spent her entire life stepping into the mold they had made, believing it to be her destiny.

Fool.

She turned sharply and ran down a hedgerow and then stopped dead. A pair of acolytes were passing down a sunset-lit path in the moonflower garden. She pressed herself into the shadows. If they saw her like this—breathless, shaking, afraid—they would ask questions. They would stop her, and word would spread to the elders before she even had a chance to think. And she desperately needed to think.

No, I need to run.

Her heart thundered against her ribs. She couldn’t stay here anymore, not if they planned to use her as a weapon—even if it was against humans. Yes, the Elders had shaped her into something dangerous, honed her magic into a force meant to be wielded, but she’d never wielded it violently against another person.

How could they ask this of me?

But why should she care about humans? After all, weren’t they a greedy, destructive, and violent race? Didn’t they kill each other for sport, tear up the hills and mountains for their roads, and raze forests to the ground?

Or was that all an elaborate lie, too?

Natalia didn’t know. She could barely breathe, let alone think. Once the acolytes passed her, she kept running. She tried to quiet her rapid panting as every feeling flashed through her like a rainstorm. Natalia halted again, at the locked gates. She pressed her palms to her face, where her cheeks had become cold and clammy. 

Her fingers trembled. She desperately wanted to cry. 

“Natalia?” called a familiar voice. “Is that you?”

She turned quickly, startled. Elder Ryieron was walking slowly toward her and the gate, his red robes sliding through the thicket of moonflowers. His palms were outstretched as if to calm a frightened horse.

“What’s wrong, child?” he asked, tone soft and gentle. “We’ve been looking for you. Were you not supposed to join us at sunset? You said you wished to speak to the council.”

“I—” she stammered. She’d once found comfort in the old man’s voice. He’d always acted like a long-lost grandfather. He’d always looked out for her. “Elder Ryieron?”

“I’m here, child.”

Natalia swallowed thickly. She took a deep breath.

“Is it all really true?” she asked, trying to sound strong, even though she felt totally shattered.

Ryieron paused on the path and lowered his hands. His gentle, grandfather-like expression fell instantly. Had it always been an elaborate mask?

“So,” he whispered, “you were behind the door.”

“I was.” Though she trembled, Natalia raised her chin. She stared him down, looking every bit like the Witch Queen that she was supposed to be. “Tell me I am mistaken. That you would never ask this of me.”

“You are surely mistaken,” he said quickly. “You do not understand.”

“No, I do not.”

The sun was slipping below the horizon, casting Elder Ryieron in shadow. Still, she read his expression, and found his sincerity wanting.

“Let me explain—”

“You want me to murder humans,” she hissed.

Ryieron shook his head. “We simply—”

“No more lies,” she gasped, her facade faltering. “How could you ask me to do something so terrible?”

The snap of a twig and the crunch of gravel echoed to the sides of her in the darkening garden. She turned fast again, and this time she saw another elder standing just a few feet away on her right.

“You are our queen, Natalia,” called Elder Hrosh from her left. “Calamity will befall the Vulpine clan without you to protect them.”

Two more elders emerged from the garden paths. It was then she realized that they were surrounding her, and the locked Solarium gates behind her were penning her in.

“You are our greatest hope for the future of our people,” Ryieron assured her.

“But when does it end?” she cried. “Where does it end?”

One of the elders laughed.

“End? What could you possibly mean, child?” Ryieron asked, tilting his old head with a confused smile. “A queen does not ever stop being a queen. It is a lifelong appointment.”

“I will not kill humans,” she hissed. “I will not kill anyone.”

“We’ll see,” Hrosh growled.

“Natalia,” Ryieron said calmly, stretching out a hand. “Please come back inside. It’s getting dark—”

The air around them began to crackle with static energy. Natalia’s hair began to stand on end, her black-gold eyes narrowing into slits.

“Do not touch me,” she commanded.