Page 200 of Nine-Tenths

"I mean… the quiet terror, and sadness, and pain of not getting tohavethe ‘Lasts’. With not being able to plan a good 'Last’ that you won't regret. The sort of ripping inside you that happens when you realize that you had the ‘Last’ already, and didn't know it at the time. Suddenly. So you didn't set it in your memory, or-or choose not to argue over sour cream or be petty about the bourbon. The most terrible part about being told suddenly that what you thought was just one in a series has been frozen as the ‘Last’, forever. And you didn't know it was coming. And you hate yourself a little bit because you feel like you should have. Somehow. Irrationally. Illogically. And that’s what dragons can give humans… better ‘Lasts’.Planned‘Lasts’."

"Fy Nhrysor," Dav says gently.

I take another step up the dais, wipe my face dry. Her eyes are glistening, too.

Fuck, I don’t want to make the queen cry.

But I will if I have to.

I will if itworks.

"You once told the world you would never marry because you were already married to your people," I press on. Just one step below her now. "But isn't this, the hurt that you let other dragons inflict in your name, isn't that spousal abuse?"

The queen's wings lower completely.

I don't dare look at anyone else.

It feels like the whole room is holding its breath.

The wholeworld.

"Are you not Elizabeth Regina?" I ask. "Are you not the woman who has the heart and the stomach of a king?"

The queen's mouth twists in a sad, sardonic smile.

"That is a speech from an age long past, Dragon's Own. There are no more wars left to fight."

"There are hundreds of wars left to fight, Ma'am," I counter. "Corporate greed. Climate change. Corrupt politics. Cancer. Mental health stigmas. Institutional racism."

"Auntie," the duke says. "He has a point."

"I asked you to be present, hatchling," the queen says waspishly. "But I did not ask you for an opinion, nor gave you leave to speak."

Instead of cowering or apologizing, the duke rolls his eyes fondly and pointedly folds his hands in front of him.

"Please," I say again. "Let us explain. Pedra deserves to be heard. That's all we ask."

The queen takes a breath, opens her mouth, and—

The door to the chamber slams open, the crack of wood against stone as loud as cannon fire.

"Your Majesty!" Lt. Gov. WorstTimingEver bellows from the threshold, puce-faced and rumpled. "Don't listen to these…bumbling, selfish fools!"

"Governor," the queen snarls, eyes flashing.

Leicester draws up beside her, a literal human shield, in an instant. The queen flourishes, drawing all of that terrifying dignity back around her. As hastily as deference allows, I back down the steps, retreating to Dav's side.

It's everything I can do to keep from stomping my feet like a child.

I was soclose.

Simcoe mistakes the queen's irritation for an invitation, and strides up the aisle. Before anyone can say anything, a guard steps out of the shadows behind a pillar, placing herself between Simcoe and the rest of us. Simcoe draws up short when it's clear that she has no intention of moving.

"Out of my way, human!" Simcoe snarls.

"You do not give the orders here!" the duke snarls back.

Simcoe didn't expect to be scolded.

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