smear of gold and blush descended the stairs—long sun-colored hair and a pink dress that trailed long behind its wearer. Disbelief stunned me, but there were no doubts who I was looking at. If any remained, the delicate crown atop that cascading hair put them to rest. “That is the queen?” I gasped. “Yes.” “She’s a child.” “That she is,” Max muttered. Queen Sesri could not have been older than thirteen, at most. Her round cheeks were completely still, enormous eyes unblinking, giving her the appearance of a porcelain doll. Her dress overwhelmed her tiny frame, swaddling her in layers upon
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THIRTEEN??!
