The mirror will show you only what you want to see.

"Helena, I think, no, scratch that-" Amer swore lightly, then started again. "Lords and ladies of the court-which lords and ladies you nitwit?" Amer sighed, staring deeply into his own eyes in the mirror.

How the hell was he supposed to convince a dictator to step down, if he couldn't even figure out who the speech was for?

He breathed out, forcing himself to start again. "Okay, Helena, you know me, we-" Did she know him? Should he have spent more time with her?

Amer pictured Helena and her sister, Cassandra. Bold Cassandra who won the war. Then realized she'd seen enough of human cruelty and fled past the edge of the world.

All of them, soldiers, strategists, hungry rebels, buoyed by the hard-won victory, just wanted it to be over. The expectation was that Cassandra would then stay, rule as she'd won: with a searing intelligence and nerves of steel.

Amer gripped the sink, remembering the day Cassandra had marched up into the throne room, and threw her armour noisily against the stone floor.

The chatter was sliced and quietened, as the sword's fall rang through the room.

There were rumours, but no one knew exactly why Cassandra left.

She wasn't strong enough. She'd lost someone she loved. She had prophesied her own demise. She was a goddess in disguise, whose time on earth had ended.

She sought adventure somewhere else.

Amer knew her better than most and knew that Cassandra simply lost her blood lust. The war had been exciting, noble, righteous. But he knew the many moral casualties, murders, and deceptions had sickened Cassandra in the end.

"What did you expect?" Their comrade, Alric, had shouted at her that day. "Sunshine and hand-holding? I'm sorry that child had to die, but his father would have never surrendered otherwise!"

"I expected to end the war as I had started it," Cassandra told him, her eyes quiet, voice duller than a butter knife. "On the right side."

There had been no response to that, but even Amer remembered glaring at her hatefully. The fury in the room was palpable. She was marring a celebration with contemplation all of them drowned at the bottom of cups.

Perhaps it was naive of Cassandra, but that's just who she was: the optimist, the kind visionary.

Which is why they immediately accepted Helena as leader. Cassandra's brilliant sister, a tinkerer who helped changed the art of warfare. Helena was unperturbed, and unconcerned with what had been done.

In the end, it was with relief they allowed Cassandra to leave, her story ending prettily like a legend. The bards sang it delightedly, a hero who left for more adventures, not content without conquering every shore.

Realistically, everyone wanted Helena, a commander who showed them how to go on, not the truth.

And Helena did. She built schools, ruthlessly quashed opposition. She set to work rebuilding their world with a glorious vision in mind.

In the beginning, it was paradise. Soldiers went to work, gained food, money, the land they'd fought for. Scientists and the learned created one flourishing university after the other, and new progress was made every day.

Helena gave people's war-torn lives purpose and reminded us every day that the battle and sacrifice was necessary, noble, and destined.

Amer didn't know how to talk to Helena, she was cold where Cassandra had been warm. There was no joking with the troops, just frowns and that infamous, questioning tilt of the head. She was mechanically beautiful, whereas her sister had smile lines and a labourer's tan.

And Helena didn't understand how to hold back. It was funny, their new leader's cutting remarks to courtiers, amusing and refreshing to see a leader who wouldn't lie. No half measures for this queen.

Who called out corruption and threw courtiers in prison.

Amer himself had defended the quiet, calculating Helena time and time again.

And now...in the decade that followed, their country was unrecognizable. Helena prevented certain people from reproducing, deeming them unworthy to pass on traits. Helena didn't stand for debates with those she thought were idiots, and increasingly ran the country with the help of a close circle of academics.

Maths and cold reasoning ran the country. We need more food? Train the poor to farm. Need more silks? End a five year alliance to steal silkworm farms from the East. Too many prisoners to feed? Mass cullings ensued.

It sounded sensible, but alliances dried up, and attitudes towards their country turned more and more bitter.

The march to progress had become insanity. Amer had to be the one to do something about it. It's what Cassandra would have wanted.

So he swallowed back nausea, splashing water on his heating face. "My lady, we started off right. But we-"

"Is this why you take so long in the bathroom? Because you're busy plotting?"

Amer whirled around to stare at one of the other surviving courtiers, Camber of House Dremedon.

"But no, go on, I've heard a few of your versions now and this one seemed most promising." Camber smiled his viper's grin, leaning against the wall. "I think I liked how it ended after we started off right."

"You know I'm right." Amer stated, glaring at him. He despised the newer courtiers, they'd been too young to fight, but had profited handsomely from the war's outcome.

"Oh sure, bring it up with Helena," Camber twisted his face into a grimace, clearly mocking Amer's serious face. "My lady, I think you're terrible and ruining our kingdom." Then he frowned, tilting his head and adopting a higher-pitched voice. "Have you seen the coffers? Our imports are higher than they were last month. More and more of our citizenry are being raised from poverty."

"What about our right to debate? And lead lives free of her factories? Or have children that her stupid Council of Future Lineage doesn't have to approve?" Amer demanded, waving his hand wildly. "Don't tell me you enjoy-"

Camber continued with his high pitched voice. "Debate? Does debate fill children's stomachs? Does debate give you money? And what would your lazy, pointless lives be without my factories?" He smiled wickedly at the anger on Amer's face. "Don't do that, you'll ruin my impression. And I'm sorry I don't want any offspring coming out of your shrivelled up balls."

Amer sneered. "I bet you like being told what to do, how to live. I on the other hand, know we fought for-"

"It's been ten years, old man," Camber said, looking smug as he said it. "And nobody fought the war so you could start another one. People fought it so they could be given what they have today: a future. Sure, you can have your hero's rebellion and the people will join you. Nobody likes the stone-cold bitch in power."

"So you agree with me?" Amer stared at him.

Camber scoffed. "Hardly. I think people are stupid. I love the stone cold bitch in power, because she makes the damn decisions. And they're usually right." He raised an eyebrow at Amer, appraising him. "If you want something more ideal, may I suggest what your hero did? Find some wild part of this world and hide there, playing at being noble." He pushed himself off the wall, heading for the door. "And find a better goddamn scheming place than the bathroom. It's unpleasant enough here."

Amer felt his blood boil. Like he needed some idiot who'd learned the concept of bravery in a book to tell him what to do. He'd been one of the people to bring this country from a wasteland to power.

He turned back to the mirror. "Lady Helena, the people need a voice. They're not puppets who you can control just because you and some book readers think you know what's right. We deserve a chance to help build a country for humans, not automatons."

Amer sighed, observing the lines in his reflection. The words in his mouth were dead. He didn't have an ounce of the conviction and passion a certain girl did over thirteen years ago.

"Do you want to be free? Do you want to live, not under the thumb of foreigners, but as kings and queens of your own destiny? Then join me, people of Sinaria! Together, we will make a place for us in the world!" Queen Cassandra of the poor, the rebels, the weak had made an outrageous promise.

And people screamed out their support. In the deserts, the dungeons. Every baby born in the ditch, to the ones born in thrones loved her.

Amer closed his eyes at that memory. Maybe the arrogant one was right. Wars were fought by the young, by the chosen.

When he opened his eyes the hero from this morning was gone. All that remained was him. Lined and weary. Weary as heartbroken Cassandra had been, watching the blood of innocent hostages paint a throne room.

Rebellions were born in the hearts of the oppressed, the lions who couldn't live as worms.

He, as a wizened, broken shell, practising speeches in the mirror couldn't win.

He checked the newest invention, the thing strapped to his wrist. He was going to be a few mirs late to the council meeting.

Camber was grinning wolfishly when he entered.

Helena frowned coldly at him. "I'm pleased you could join us, Amer. We were just discussing a factory strike in West Sinaria."

Amer couldn't even muster enough anger to glare. Discussing? "What are you going to do?"

"Any suggestions? We have just received a letter from the leader of the strikers." Helena sounded bored, eyes scanning a wrinkled sheet of paper.

Amer froze, the moment stretching.

Camber raised an eyebrow.

"No suggestions, Lady."