The Changeling

29

Cetlali arrived at Ezren's rooms, knowing well he'd be wanting to speak with her and she didn't need Lovou, of all people, to tell her that.

Ezren wasn't in his quarters, judging by the lack of Xocthl guarding the door. She figured he must still be meeting with the council to decide what was to be done about Ovar Tate. Cetlali was too busy running to the gardens sobbing, sword in hand, and keeping people well enough away from her. She'd heard Ovar had run off with a bunch of shit. She knew Ezren would never allow such an insult to remain standing.

Not from the monster he'd essentially created.

Surprises weren't scarce these days. Cetlali opened the door to Ezren's solar and found Rocha waiting, sitting, sipping on a goblet full of deep red wine.

"Why am I always shocked by your sudden arrival?" Rocha's bitter question lingered for no

one but herself as she sipped again, longer this time.

Her empty eyes traveled past Cetlali. She realized Rocha was probably eyeing Lovou. He stepped in through the door, silent as a specter and just as ominous. The Widowed Empress, dripping in black Batawarenti lace, gave a derisive snort and rolled her eyes back to Cetlali. She stood up with a waver and condescended, "I meant to speak with my father."

"I have a meaning to do the same," Cetlali replied, despite her shaking.

Rocha leveled her with a devastating glare.

That same curled lip sneer Cetlali had been receiving since she was a child. Rocha sniffed in her own hateful way, then leveled her with a haughty smile. "Oh, I am sure that you do." She swayed as she approached Cetlali, dissecting her into careful, tolerable pieces with singular ticks of her gaze.

"You know my father hasn't so much as looked at another woman since my mother died." She spoke with an iciness, circling Cetlali with a surprising grace for how caustically she smelled of wine. "He was so in love with her, obsessed even," she snorted. "It's one thing to know your father loves your mother. It's entirely different to hear songs written about them, the legendary, living love of the ages." Rocha's smile was genuine while her eyes faded into a memory. She slowed to a stop in her loping stride.

Her illusion of a soul faded into a grimace with her next question as she continued to move. "Do you know, some days I feel as if I'm the only one to truly remember her? Father has never spoken of her. Not a single, solitary time since he sent her away to recover after Zeger was born." Rocha slowed to a stop in front of Cetlali, who stilled, terrified. The widow's eyes narrowed and her words were biting. "And you came to us so quickly after he told us she was dead."

Cetlali's mouth popped open, unsure of how to even respond.

Rocha grinned a wicked grin with tears welling in her eyes. "Rehka was her name.

People spoke of her wondrous beauty and poise, at least until my father forbade it."

Her eyes narrowed. An errant tear escaped, traversing the line of her long, straight nose above her quavering, coral lips. "The entire realm sang of how the Great Ezren Armistead wooed Rehka Tinashe. A love between them as saturated and deep as the mines that ran through our lands."

As she inspected Cetlali's face, Rocha's eyes held a sharp torment. A scathing tone threaded her words as she leaned in with a haunted, detached sibilance. "You look almost exactly like her. Has anyone ever told you that?"

Cetlali jolted back, breathless, horrified, and confused.

Rocha almost laughed at her reaction. Her tone became playful with its disdain. "When I first saw you, growing into your own, I thought you were a ghost meant to torment me over the loss of her." Her voice caved into whisper, "It never left me though." She glared at Cetlali and the tone hardened like a cooling diamond. "The pain I feel at the glaring absence inside of me —