The Shards of Heaven by Michael Livingston Page B

who gave little thought to the submissive men and women pouring their drinks as they discussed the fates of nations. Selene had seen it often enough to feel certain that she’d be more careful when she was queen.
    The messenger must have brought news that Octavian had declared war, she decided. They were probably debating what to do about it even now. Maps were being drawn up. Plans were being made. Tempers were flaring, and faces were getting red.
    Selene rolled over in her sheets. It wasn’t fair that she couldn’t be there. Just because she was a girl didn’t mean she couldn’t understand things. Couldn’t they look at her mother and see that?
    Not that her twin brother, Helios, would be there, either. But at least he was getting extra lessons with their teacher, Didymus, meeting for tutoring sessions after she’d gone to bed. That wasn’t fair, either.
    Selene looked toward the darkness outside the window, wondering what time it was. Not too late, certainly. Perhaps Helios and Didymus were still in session.
    She swung her legs out of the bed and pushed on her sandals. There was a thin haze of sand dust on the stone floor, and her feet made little shush-shush noises when she stood.
    Selene cringed, listening hard to hear whether or not her movements had awoken one of the chamber servants. When she heard nothing but snoring, she stepped back out of the sandals and set her bare feet on the floor. It was cold, but it was quiet. Then, pulling a shift over her head, she started to tiptoe across the room, toward the hall and the greater palace beyond.
    There were normally at least two guards that she could see from the door to her chambers, but peeking out into the lamp-lit hallway, Selene saw none. Apparently, most had been pulled away to the council chambers. The fact that even the guards—the guards!—knew more about what was happening did not do much to improve her mood, but she was glad, at least, that it would make moving through the complex easier.
    Her brother’s chambers were just down the hall, so Selene didn’t have far to go. She padded between the pools of flickering light, checked for guards around the one corner she had to turn, and quickly reached her brother’s door. Leaning against the wood, she listened and heard the steady voice of Didymus.
    She’d hoped she could just listen to the lesson from outside. Over the years she’d listened in on many conversations through closed palace doors, after all. But their voices were more muted than most. And there was the chance, too, that a guard would actually show up, and he’d undoubtedly send her back to bed with stern warnings and exasperated looks, and then she’d hear about it in the morning.
    Selene’s little fingers pulled open the door as quietly as she could manage. It was dark inside, and she realized why it was she couldn’t hear them from out in the hall: they’d pulled thick curtains across the corner of her brother’s chambers that served as a study. Even this close, their voices were muted.
    Selene shut the door, then tried to make her way closer in the black, trying to place her bare feet on quiet places. But it was too dark, and her foot hit a wooden staff that was leaning against the wall, sending it to the ground with a clatter. The curtain parted quickly, casting the light of a lit brazier across her, and the back-lit head of Didymus appeared.
    â€œSelene,” he said. She could only see the silhouette of him, but his voice was only partly disapproving. “I think you’re supposed to be in bed, my lady.”
    Selene’s twin brother pulled back on another of the curtains, peeking around their teacher. “What?”
    â€œI’m sorry,” Selene said. She tried to look bashful and forlorn all at once. With care, she picked up the staff—it was the tutor’s walking staff, she could see now—and set it back against the wall. “I