Rain sat in a wide marble tub filled with hot water. Rose petals floated across the surface. Her pale hair spread out in the water.
The servants had filled the bath and left. Guards waited outside the door. To most, this was a queen bathing. To Rain, it was a time to remember.
The petals reminded her of Nightwillow.
She was six when the gates closed behind her. The compound was stone and shadow, the air heavy with silence. An elder pressed a clay cup into her hands.
"Drink," the woman said.
Rain looked at the dark liquid. "It smells bad."
"Drink," the elder repeated.
Rain shook her head. "I'll be sick."
The woman slapped her across the face. Her lip split. "Sickness is part of you now. Drink or die here."
Rain's small fingers trembled. She raised the cup and swallowed. The liquid burned her throat. She gagged but the elder grabbed her jaw.
"You will swallow what is given," the woman said. "Or you will not live to see tomorrow."
That night Rain lay curled on the stone floor. Her stomach twisted. She cried until no sound came out. Other girls whimpered in the dark. One begged for her mother, but no one came.
By morning, another cup waited.
And the morning after that.
At twelve, Rain was shoved into a pit with two other girls. The ground writhed with snakes.
"Stay still!" one girl screamed, already bitten on the leg. She kicked wildly, shaking them off.
Rain felt fangs pierce her arm and neck. Venom burned through her body. She screamed until her voice broke.
"Please!" the second girl begged, looking up at the sisters watching from above. "Please, let us out!"
The elders stood still. One said, "If you cannot endure, you cannot rule."
Hours passed before the snakes were pulled away with hooks. Rain's body was swollen, her skin blotched. One of the girls lay still, her face slack. Her body was carried to the willow tree in the courtyard. Her name was carved into the bark.
Rain lived.
At fifteen, the High Mistress gave Rain a knife and a strip of meat.
"Cut your palm," she ordered.
Rain frowned. "Why?"
"Because only death will show you what you are."
Rain cut her palm. Blood dripped onto the meat. The meat was fed to a rat. The rat sniffed, ate, then shrieked. It twisted and clawed at the cage until it lay still.
Rain stared without blinking.
The High Mistress said, "When a queen of the Nightwillow dies, another must be born. Many daughters will not survive. Only the one with poison in her blood can rule. Only she is truly Queen."
Rain asked, "And the others?"
"They die," the Mistress said. "That is their purpose. Their death proves which child was chosen."
Another girl whispered, "That isn't fair."
The Mistress struck her across the cheek. "Fair is not our law. You learn to command."
Rain lowered her head and stayed quiet.
Training grew harder. Rain was forced to drink many poisons until her body shook with fever. She bathed in pools filled with toxic insects. They crawled across her skin, biting until her blood ran hot. Snakes were dropped on her shoulders. Their fangs sank in over and over, pumping venom into her veins.
Some girls did not survive. Their names covered the willow tree in the courtyard. Rain's name was never carved there.
One night, when she was sixteen, a girl tried to run. They found her body in the snow. The High Mistress made the others stand in silence while her name was carved into the tree.
"Do not run," the Mistress said. "There is nowhere to go."
Rain remembered every word. She remembered every name of her sisters.
By the time she was grown, poisons no longer broke her. They became part of her. Her blood itself carried death. One drop would kill a man, slow and painful.
Rain opened her eyes in the steam-filled chamber. Dawnspire thought it had taken a bride from Frostthorne. It did not know what she carried in her veins.
She stood and stepped from the tub. She tied a thin robe around her body. The damp cloth clung to her.
"Send the captain in," she called.
The door opened. Kale entered.
For a moment, he stopped. His eyes scanned her body, the robe damp and clinging in the light. His jaw tightened. Then he forced his gaze upward and bowed. "Your Majesty."
Rain sat on the edge of the tub, calm. "Report."
Kale clasped his hands behind his back. His voice was firm. "The black box is sealed in the armory. The steward and his assistant deny knowledge. They say a runner delivered it at the east gate. The boy was paid by a hooded man. No clear description."
Rain tilted her head. "So, there are no answers."
"Not yet," Kale said. His eyes flicked back once before he turned them to the wall. "But someone inside the palace likely helped. The gift was meant to reach you."
"And who would dare test their queen on her wedding night?" Rain asked.
"Several," Kale said. "A few nobles left early. I have men watching them. And..." He hesitated.
"And what?" Rain pressed.
"Lyrisa was seen speaking with two lords who oppose Frostthorne's alliance," Kale said. "I cannot prove she was involved, but the timing is poor."
Rain stood and crossed to the table. She picked up a thin silver hairpin and held it out. Its tip was sharpened to a fine point.
Kale stepped closer. His eyes moved from the pin, up her arm, then to her face.
"This is not an ornament," Rain said. "The tip is treated. Dip it in a drink if poison is present, the liquid will cloud. Press it into wax and it will lift a seal without breaking it. Press it against skin" she held his eyes, "and it leaves what it carries inside."
Kale reached for it. His gloved hand brushed her fingers. Rain shifted slightly, unused to touch outside of ritual or command. His eyes held hers, steady and intense, before he closed his fist around the pin.
"Useful," he said.
"Keep it close," Rain told him. "Return it when you are done. It is the only one I brought from Frostthorne."
Kale's jaw flexed. "I'll guard it as I would my sword."
Rain studied him for a moment. "Find the runner. Bring me more than excuses."
"I'll see to it," Kale said.
"Captain."
He looked back at her.
"Do not let yourself be distracted," she said.
Kale adjusted his stance, as if bracing himself. "Never."
He left.
Rain dressed in a fresh gown. Kale was loyal, but he was still a man. She would remember that.
Her maid, Lysa, entered with a towel and comb. Her hands trembled. "The court gathers tomorrow, Your Majesty. People are already speaking of you. Some are afraid."
"Good," Rain said. "Fear keeps people honest."
"And if they are not honest?" Lysa asked.
Rain met her eyes in the mirror. "Then they die."
The maid lowered her head and brushed in silence.
Rain looked at her reflection. Dorian would see a bride. Lyrisa would see a rival. The nobles would see a stranger.
But Rain knew the truth. She was not here to be claimed. She was here to judge Dawnspire to decide if it deserved Frostthorne's alliance, or if it would be destroyed from within.