Seven marble arches, taller than any tower, almost taller than the palace, stretched from one side of the largest isle to the other. They each commemorated a past ruler of the line of Al’ain. Aetha’s mother’s was the most recently built, her father’s the one before that. Aetha had commanded that they begin construction of her own immediately when she’d taken the throne. So far, only its foundations and the first sixth of each side were built. She stood in the shadow of the southern foundation, frowning up at four flayed bodies nailed to it.

“Does it satisfy you, my queen?” Huntmaster Quil’al’nex stood beside her, his narrow gray arms crossed.

Aetha began, “What-“ and then she ran out of breath suddenly, wobbled, dark spots over her vision. Her strength came back a few seconds later. She noticed Quil’s hand under her arm, supporting her. She elbowed him aside, “Never touch me!”

“My apologies.” He crossed his arms again, unbothered. His grimace never changed, either because his skull-tight skin didn’t permit it or just because he was dead inside.

Aetha straightened again. She’d had another uniform made, identical to the one that had been destroyed by the beast’s curse. It seemed so much heavier, though, and she couldn’t seem to summon the enchantments of strength she could feel inside the fabric. Still, she did her best to stand with strength, head high. “What about their families?”

“We haven’t done anything to their families yet.”

“I want their direct relations – parents, children, siblings – nailed up on the other side of the arch. And then…” She walked forward carefully. Beneath the arches were the scattered ruins of previous arches from past lines of rulers, which Aetha had commanded to be torn down. She looked at the foundation of what would be her own commemorative arch. “It still feels like not enough punishment.”

Quil said boredly, “These men do have extended relations who could be punished.”

“I’m not going to execute the whole island, Quil.” Sometimes she wanted to. These four men had been golden guards in the cheering crowd, but when Aetha had lain unconscious, they’d rushed in and tried to drink of her blood. Quil had killed them on the spot before taking Aetha back to the palace to recover. She’d lain in Eiri’el’s bed for two days, overseen by her sister at all hours. At that thought, Aetha said, “Ah, I know what to do. We’ll get the architect involved.”

“My queen?” Quil’s voice hinted at the slightest curiosity.

“Begin work on another arch over the island. Right here, just slightly smaller than mine, directly beneath mine. We’ll dedicate it to Eiri’el. I want these men and their family members encased in the foundations. Put the men here and their family on the opposite side, so that they can never rest together.”

Quil hummed a pondering hum. “The architect will say that we lack the materials and the manpower. Construction of your own arch has been stalled for several years, now.”

“The plagues will pass,” Aetha snapped at him so viciously that she stumbled, her body suddenly weak. Quil reached out to catch her again, but she swatted aside his hand and fell on a plane of stone that had once been dedicated to a now-disgraced king. Cringing in pain at her fall, Aetha spat a foul curse.

“My queen.” Quil crouched in front of her. “Drink of the beast’s blood. Its strength will restore you.”

“No. It’s meant for Eiri’el. She needs it.”

“She needs you to be strong. And…” Quil rubbed at his sharp chin with a thin finger, his cloudy, half-blind eyes gazing off toward the sea. “I had told her I would keep this secret from you, but Eiri’el has also refused to drink of the beast.”

“What?” Aetha hissed, slowly standing. “Why would she-?”

“She wishes the blood be reserved for you, as much as you wish it be reserved for her.”

“Stupid girl. She takes after me too much.” Grumbling, Aetha brushed dirt from her hip. “Take me back to the palace, then go find the architect and do as I’ve said.”