But there was only one cup.
Risana quaked like a leaf in the wind.
“Why?” she asked.
Jia knelt up in formal mipa rari. “The emperor is young and brash, and he lacks Théra’s political acumen. He yearns for martial glory and vengeance against the Lyucu, but the garinafin force will not be ready for another decade. We must not go to war until we can be assured of victory. He needs a firm and steady hand to restrain his impulses.”
“You are that hand. I will never challenge your position as regent, Big Sister. I have not once attended formal court since the death of Kuni, and I will continue to refrain from all politics.”
Jia shook her head, her face sad but resolute. “Then you’re asking me to drink from this cup.”
“I’m doing no such thing!”
“There cannot be two behind the throne who are perceived as the source of authority. Though Phyro has always respected me, I can’t compete with a mother’s love.
“Even if you do as you promise, there will be those tempted to use your name as a rallying flag. Dara has a turbulent voyage ahead of her—to keep the peace with the Lyucu until we’re ready to go to war again, I will have to implement policies that may be deeply unpopular and offend the powerful. They’ll come to you with tearful pleas and sweet enticements to soften your heart; they’ll whisper in the emperor’s ears that I am hungry for power and that he is his own man; they’ll beguile you into supporting his need for independence and seduce him into looking at you for guidance instead of me.
“If you won’t drink this, then it will be better for the people of Dara that I do. There will be less strife if there is only a single voice behind the throne, even if that voice isn’t mine.”
“You speak of hypotheticals,” muttered Risana. “You speak of dangers that may come instead of the love and faith that are.”
“I cannot count on love and faith,” said Jia. “Those are luxuries not permitted to those responsible for the fate of millions. What we need are systems and rules to channel the flow of power, but until they’re built, I must wield power myself.”
“Perhaps you’re simply in love with the idea of power,” said Risana. “And it is Power that wields you.”
“That is no doubt what some will say. They’ll claim that I’m jealous of the way Kuni favored you in his later years; they’ll claim that I want to arrogate to myself the authority that belongs to others; they’ll call me shrill and ambitious and paint me as a harpy. But what is my reputation compared to the lives of the people of Dara? I’m content to do what is right and let others think what they will.”
Risana sat still and shook her head.
Jia sighed and nodded. “I ask only that you remember what I said and do all you can to help Phyro do the right thing for the people instead of for his vanity.”
She picked up the cup and placed the rim against her opened lips; she tilted the cup—
Risana slapped it out of her hand; the tea spilled across the floor.
“You were really going to do it,” Risana said, incredulous.
Jia composed herself and gave her a bitter smile. “For the good of Dara, I was willing to watch my lover executed for my plots; I was willing to order my husband killed to achieve victory; and I’m willing to go to war against my son regardless of his safety. Love makes people do strange things, and I love these islands and the people who live in them. What is my life compared to the lives of all the people of Dara? Could you have made any of these decisions?”
Risana shook her head, trembling even more.
“The grace of kings does not glitter like precious gold or shine like gentle jade,” said Jia. “It’s forged from iron and blood.”
Gradually, Risana stopped shaking. She sat up in mipa rari. “Big Sister, not until now have I understood you. You’re a worthy Empress of Dara.”
She bowed in jiri, and Jia returned in kind.
“Poison will require too many lies,” said Risana. “It will also taint the trust Phyro has for you—though you do not care about trust, he does.”
Jia nodded in acknowledgment.
“I will climb the Moon-Gazing Tower at midnight and leap from it,” continued Risana, her voice steady and calm. “It will look like an accident.”
Knee-walking, she retrieved the fallen teacup from the floor and wiped up the spilled tea with her sleeves before returning to the table, carefully setting the cup down next to the brazier. She smiled wryly at Jia. “We should take care to make the staging perfect—a broken support for the balustrade, a pool of spilled water near where I stand—such details are important in a performance.”
Jia bowed to her again. “You will be given the title Empress of Dara posthumously. I will ensure that the court historians honor your name in the annals of Dara.”
“Do spend more time with Phyro when I’m gone,” said Risana. “He may have grown up fast, but every boy misses his mother. Your presence will be a comfort to him.”
“I promise,” said Jia.
In her private bedchamber, Risana dismissed all her servants and maids, locked the door, and sat down on the sitting mat in the middle of the room.
She undressed and cut out the tea-soaked section of her sleeve from her dress. Slowly, meticulously, she cut the fabric into tiny strips, and then cut the strips into even smaller squares.
Her hands trembled so much that she was afraid of cutting herself.
Jia’s arguments had been powerful. Risana could not imagine herself ordering soldiers to fire at the enemy when her husband was held up as a shield. She could not imagine going to war against her own son. It was true that Dara needed a firm hand to resist the tide of the Lyucu, and her quaking hands would never be enough to help Phyro, the Pearl in the Palm.
A rabbit cowered in a cage next to her. She dropped the squares of fabric into a cup, mixed it with fresh fruit slices, and slid the cup into the cage. The rabbit sniffed the food suspiciously, but then began to eat.
Risana watched the rabbit carefully. Soon, the cup was empty, and the rabbit moved away from the feeding cup and hopped around the cage, its whiskers twitching.
She could not imagine leaving Phyro behind. The boy might swagger and strut, but he was kind-hearted and gentle. Love made one do strange things, it was true. But was it strange to not want to die, to not want to leave your child behind?
The rabbit hopped around the cage, showing no signs of discomfort or pain.
The tea had not been poisoned.
Risana closed her eyes. It had all been theater. Jia was willing to drink the tea because she knew there was no danger. She had been performing to gain Risana’s admiration, to gain her trust, to make her offer to remove herself from life at the court, from life altogether.
She shook even harder. She could not leave Phyro with such a woman, who thought only in terms of iron and blood. She would go to Phyro and leave the palace with him. They would disguise themselves as commoners and live in some forgotten corner of Dara, much as she had lived with her mother before she met Kuni. Jia wanted to guide Dara through the season of storms, and she and Phyro would not stand in the way.
“Mocü! Cawi!” she called out to her maids. “I need my traveling case.”
“They won’t be coming,” a voice said behind her.
Risana whipped around and saw the figure of Empress Jia in the door.
“Your servants and maids have all been called away to receive a special bonus from the palace treasury,” said Jia.