The Imperial Palace was in a state of feverishness this evening. Human slaves scurried in all directions carrying pots, scrolls and pails of water. Kronan messengers cawed and screeched to each other in the high rafters and flapped about nervously. Macazan Sun Guards and palace officials huddled in corners whispering to each other, away from the sunlight that streamed in through the high windows. For Naxsyana though, as she marched into the Grand Atrium flanked by her two hulking human bodyguards, it felt like all eyes had turned towards her.

On any other day Naxsa was quite happy being the centre of attention. As the youngest daughter of Empress Malaxsyala, and thus heir to the entire Varanan Empire from the Atlantic to Egypt, she was the most important person in any room that didn’t contain her mother. Today, however, felt different. Today she might have chopped her own tail off if it meant avoiding the stares. Calm, confident, regal, just like Mother she thought, smoothing out her silk tunic. She forced her tail to stop swishing and pushed her shoulders back into what she hoped was an imperious posture, before continuing. A group of Sun Guards broke off their whispering and hurried into her path.

“Sorry Princess -ahem- I’m afraid no one is allowed in or out of the Central Palace tonight” the lead officer said, her tail swishing uncomfortably. Naxsa narrowed her eyes. The guard wore the polished gold armour and purple tunic of a Captain, but had the styled bronze fur and heavy accent of a Tartessian.

“By whose orders?” she asked.

“The Vizier, majesty.” 

Naxsa had to stab a nail into her palm to stop her voice from cracking. That old hag had always had it out for her.

“It’s Captain Traxsya isn’t it?” she smiled sweetly “I recognise you from the Sun Guards Parade”.

“Yes, majesty” the Captain lowered her head and showed her teeth in a gesture of submission.

“Well Traxsya, you can tell the Vizier that I will happily discuss any security concerns she may have, right after I’ve seen my mother. Now stand aside.” She went to move past them, but was halted by the Captain's raised hand.

“I’m sorry Princess, no exceptions she said.” Naxsa’s eyes flashed before she got a hold of herself. She gestured to her bodyguards.

“Borgis, Ansgar, remove these people from my presence”. The mercenaries stepped forward, hands on sword hilts. The Sun Guards didn’t move. Naxsa noticed that the entire hall had gone silent, watching the scene. Even the kronar had shut up for once.

“I’m afraid I can’t allow that, majesty.'' Traxsya said in a low voice, all submission gone. Her Sun Guards readied their spears and shields, twisting their faces into an open-mouthed glare, with fur puffed up and tails erect. Even Naxsa’s human bodyguards could recognise the universal threat-glare of macaza and their monkey cousins, and knew intimidation would not work here. They glanced at her, looking for instructions.

Naxsa could feel the stares burning into her on all sides. A princess barred from her own palace! She could practically hear how they would laugh at her in the kitchens and courtyards and high halls of the Matriarchia. Oh how she would peel the skin off Vizier Inyaxsa’s face once she found her! Right now though she felt paralysed. Borgis and Ansgar may have towered over all of them, but even they couldn’t take on half a dozen Sun Guards at once. Then again, she couldn’t let this Tartessian peasant humiliate her inside her own home, in the heart of her Empire!

“Naxsa!” A voice called from behind them, breaking the tension. “Naxsa!” A gangly dark-skinned human skidded into view, sweat beading on his shiny bald skin.

“What is it, Himyar?” Naxsa said. She and Traxsya were still glaring at each other.

“Forgive me, Princess” he bowed low to her “there is an urgent matter of state that requires the immediate attention of Her Imperial Majesty.” Leaning into her ear he whispered “We’ll go the back way.” Naxsa could have kissed him, if the thought of kissing a human wasn’t so disgusting. He’d given her an out.

“Very well, human. Her Majesty shall attend to the matter at once” she announced. Turning to Traxsya she said “I am comforted to see that Palace security is as thorough and diligent as ever. Carry on, Captain.” Ears burning, eyes boring into her skull, she turned and followed Himyar in as regal a stride as she could muster, bodyguards following behind.

“That bitch!” Naxsa hissed once they were out of earshot. “I’ll have her exiled for that!”

“She’s only following orders,” Himyar whispered back. “Inyaxsa has had the whole Palace Complex shut down. None of us slaves are allowed to leave the kitchens or quarters besides necessary duties.” They crossed the entrance hall and entered a side passage, across a mosaic of coloured glass depicting the Last Human War.

“Frightened of the news leaking to the Matriarchia, I expect” Naxsa glowered. “Just like her to try to cut me out too though.” She breathed deeply. Now for the question she had been dreading for nine months. “Do you know what the news is anyway?”

“You mean you don’t know?” he asked incredulously.

“Nobody has told me anything! But I can guess, obviously. It’s a girl isn’t it?”

“Of course. You think everyone would be like this for a boy?” He gestured to the hubbub behind them. Naxsa felt her guts turn to ice as her greatest fear was confirmed. Her tail writhed and contorted itself and she had to clutch the wall to stop herself from retching.

“I’m sorry, Naxsa.” Himyar did that weird pout that humans do when trying to imitate macazan facial expressions. Perhaps this one was meant to be pity.

“Shut up.” She said, clenching and unclenching her fists. “It’s alright, I just need to speak to my mother. I’ll speak to Mother and everything will be fine. She’ll understand.” 

“I hope so. Though I fear you may not like what you find.”

“She’s always supported me in everything!” Naxsa said, more to herself really. “Remember when Visyana and I argued about who would wear the Heir’s Crown at the Blue Lotus Festival? Mother had her thrown in the dungeons for three weeks for even suggesting the idea.” Naxsa was pretty sure her older sister had never forgiven her for that. 

Himyar didn’t look convinced though so she changed the subject. “Wait, if all the humans are confined downstairs except for necessary duties, how did you get out?”

“Oh I was never down there to begin with” he said sheepishly. “Come on, you’ll remember it when you see it.” He led her into the Outer Palace, a maze of passageways, alcoves and servants quarters that she had hardly been to since her childhood, back when she used to run carefree this way and that with Himyar and her brother. How times had changed. Just find Mother she thought. Her head was spinning and she constantly had to flex and relax her fingers to stop herself pulling her fur out. Just speak to Mother and it will all be alright. At last Himyar stopped beside an old statue of Phraxamis the Law-Giver, with her distinctive high magistrate’s hat and legal tome. Naxsa knew where she was now.

“Return to my palanquin,” she said to Borgis and Ansgar. “I shall join you later.” Himyar waited until they were gone, double-checking there was no one around, before he worked his fingers between the flagstones behind the statue and pulled. 

They dropped down into the secret passageway beneath, before Naxsa carefully replaced the flagstone, smothering them in darkness.

“Have you got a lamp?” She whispered.

“Yes, hang on.” He pulled out a rod and small flask and uncorked it. Grimacing at the smell, he stirred the weird fluid for a few moments until the bioluminescent mixture started glowing, offering a dim greenish light in the otherwise pitch blackness. As much as they terrified every sailor across the Empire, Naxsa had to admit that the occulans and their deep-sea light farms had their uses.

“Let’s go.” Himyar said. Holding the lamp aloft, he set off down the tunnel in the awkward half-crouch that humans were forced to do with their inflexible bodies. Naxsa dropped to all fours and padded along, tail held high.

The passageways dated back to the reign of Anaxsyala the Cruel who, in her infamous paranoia, had sought a means to spy on her own courtiers herself. As the legend went, she had had all the human and raxan slaves who had built the tunnels locked inside them to die, so that only the Empress herself knew their secrets. It was said that their spectres still haunted the palace to this day. Naxsa and Himyar had spent hours down here in their childhood searching every nook, cranny and alcove for the skeletons, but had never found more than a few dead rats, to their eternal disappointment.

Himyar led the way, around corners, through narrow choke points and up jagged stairways, towards the Tower of Dawn where she knew the rest of her family must be now. Occasionally they caught scattered gossip and snippets of laughter from the rooms around them, clever sound funnels that Anaxsyala had designed into the passageways. Naxsa hadn’t been down here in years and quickly lost all sense of direction, but it was clear that Himyar knew every twist and turn. As she had long suspected, he must be on the payroll of some politicking courtier looking for gossip on the Imperial Family. Probably one of the Great Families of the Matriarchia. She made a mental note to find out which one and offer him double whatever they were paying. For her part though, she wished she had worn something other than her fine silk tunic and woven sandals, which were both now covered in dust and grime and cobwebs.

“I can’t believe I have to skulk around through my own palace!” She hissed as she flicked rat droppings from her shoes. “When I find Inyaxsa I’m going to have her strung up and shaved.”

“Now that I would like to see!” Himyar chuckled. “Here we go, it's up there.” They had arrived underneath a vertical shaft with iron bolts fixed into the walls. At the top, a faint light spilled in. Naxsa lept up to the nearest rung and began leaping and clambering. Himyar followed more slowly behind, puffing and panting. Like their lumbering ape cousins, humans were never as good at climbing as the lithe and monkey-like macaza, so Naxsa waited at the top to let him catch up. Together they balanced on the rungs and peered through the gaps in the heavy wood panelling. 

Naxsa couldn’t see much through a hazy gauze on the other side, but the outlines of a stairwell and a row of painted marble statues were just visible. Judging by their position, she would say they were looking out from behind the old tapestry of the Seven Sages bringing civilisation to the macaza. Muffled voices reached them from another room down the corridor. Naxsa thought she could make out the voice of her mother. And Inyaxsa.

“Seems clear” she whispered and together they carefully pulled back a loose panel until there was a gap wide enough to slip through. Naxsa thought about telling Himyar not to spy on her, but figured that was pointless.

“Stay out of sight,” she said instead, “and thank you.”

“Good luck.” Himyar said and gave her a quick hug. With that, she slipped out from behind the tapestry.

Inside the tower the air was heavy with the scent of frankincense and spices. Through the windows, the Sun Goddess bathed the hallway in a golden-orange light as she set below the horizon. Naxsa crept along, past the row of tapestries charting the history of Varana. In one of them, Syala Anyu was creating the macaza from barbary macaques in the Mind Forge. Next to it, the human-headed god Razar Hanyar was stealing the Forge and fleeing beyond the western horizon to create his own sapients in secret. In another, Admiral Axsyana was overthrowing despotic human rule in the Second Human War to be crowned the First Empress. A life-size painted statue of her loomed large in front of her tapestry, followed by statues of all her successors along the corridor.

Naxsa stopped beneath the statue of her mother. The elaborate cloak and solar headdress of the Sun Queen had been painted in red and gold, giving her the impression of radiating heat. The sculptor had well captured that look of imperious detachment that she wore at official ceremonies and around Visyana and the others, though Naxsa herself rarely experienced it. She knew her siblings envied the warmth and attention she received, but she had always justified it as to be expected. She was the heir after all. Under the ancient laws of the macazan people, set down by the Seven Sages in the Dawn Age of the world, it was always the youngest daughter who succeeded her mother as Matriarch. Any new daughter born would therefore replace her older sister as heir. That was how it had always been, and always would be.

For twenty years Naxsa had been the youngest daughter, so she had always known that her statue would one day stand here next to her mother’s. Now though, looking up at the silent face and chiselled features, the thought filled her with nothing but dread. She shook herself. This was her palace. She wouldn’t creep around it like some common thief. Naxsa pushed her shoulders back again, stilled her tail and tried to brush off as much of the dust and grime from the tunnels as she could. Avoiding her mother’s gaze, Naxsa turned and followed the voices.

She didn’t have to go far. Around the corner, the door to one of the grand bedrooms was open, and scattered voices were spilling out. Standing in the entranceway, with his back to her, was her half-brother, Malaxzyar. He turned at the sound of her footsteps and bared his teeth in shock.

“Naxsa!” He hissed, glancing back into the room. “What are you doing here?” He rushed up to meet her. He wore those stupid coloured braids in his head fur that were fashionable among elite macazan men at the moment.

“Wouldn’t you like to know!” She snarled. “Why have I been shut out of the palace? Did no one think to inform me that it was happening today?” He withered under her glare.

“It… it was meant to be for your own good” he mumbled. “How did you even get up here? And why are you covered in dirt?” He peered at the cobwebs matted into her fur.

“Doesn’t matter!” She snapped, brushing them away. She was about to start a long rant about his place and how he should show her more respect, when another figure stepped through the doorway. Inyaxsa, in her purple cloak and golden headpiece of the office of Vizier.

“Princess. I see you made it in after all. I shall make sure to have the relevant Sun Guards exiled. We can’t afford any dereliction of duties in a time like this”.

“You!” Naxsa hissed. “You utter swine! How dare you order my own palace staff to shut me out. I always knew you hated me, but this?” Malaxzyar, who had been watching the confrontation, grimaced and put a hand on her arm.

“Naxsa, I’m sorry. I didn’t know how to tell you, but… that order didn’t come from Inyaxsa. It came from Mother.” 

A cold wave washed through Naxsa.

“He’s right,” Inyaxsa added. “But I decided that if I told the Guards it came from me it might spare you the worst of the humiliation. I’m sorry, kid.” Naxsa just stared at them blankly, panic filling her. That couldn’t have come from Mother she thought desperately. It just couldn’t.

“Let me through. Let me through!” She tried to push past them but Malaxzyar grabbed her by the arms and held her back.

“Naxsa, wait! Just think!”

“Malaxzyar you get your hands off me, right now!” She struggled to free herself. He may have been a couple of years younger than her, but he was already bigger and stronger, like most macazan males. Still, that didn’t matter. She brought up her knee and connected with the soft bits between his legs. He yelped and instantly let go, letting her dash past the two of them into the room.

The makeshift birthing chamber was a hive of activity. Human slave women were being directed about by Axamama, the old Matron. The high windows had been thrown open to let in the last sunlight, allowing High Priestess Galaxsa, Divine Adoratrix of the Sun, to march about with her golden robe and incense sticks, chanting a rite of good fortune. In the centre of the room, in the huge bed surrounded by drapes and blankets, sat her mother, looking haggard and worn. Beside her were her three husbands, two of them looking distinctly uncomfortable, including Naxsa’s father Renzyar. Her mother’s Great Imperial Husband Haxzyar, recently promoted to High Alpha of the Empire, was kneeling beside the bed, cradling something in his arms.

They all turned to look at her as she burst into the room.

“So,” Naxsa announced, trying her best to compose herself “I see that it has happened. Mother, I am pleased to see that you are well” she bowed low, stretching her lips back and chattering her teeth in submission.

“Ah, Naxsa,” the clueless old Matron said. “Nice of you to join us at last! Come and say hello to your new half-sister.” She busied up to her and started brushing her down. “How have you gotten into this terrible mess this time? Playing with the kitchen boys again?”

“Leave her, Matron,” her mother growled. Despite her exhaustion, her voice never lost its commanding tone. “Naxsyana, I ordered no further intrusions. Leave us at once.”

“No, Mother. Please.” Naxsa said. She went up to the bed to look down at the bundle in Haxzyar’s arms. A tiny child, with translucent white fur and bright pink skin, nestled amongst the blankets. Flailing her little arms and tail, she squeaked softly and clutched at her father’s chest fur. Naxsa felt a pang of something in her chest. Sisterly love? Motherly instincts? Should she be feeling overjoyed now, praising her mother and Syala Anyu both for delivering a new heir to the throne? Instead, it felt more like fear and dread. “I just wanted to speak with you, Mother. Privately.” She was uncomfortably aware of all the eyes in the room on her. “May we have the room?” She looked to everyone else, some of whom bowed their heads and began to move.

“No!” Her mother barked. She swung her legs out of the bed and tried to stand, batting away the objections of the Matron. “I am in no mood for your discussions, child. We will talk later. If you do not go out now I shall have you dragged out.” Naxsa realised with horror that her mother had that look of imperious detachment that she used around Naxsa’s siblings.

“Your mother has given you an order, Princess,” Haxzyar said, his mouth open and eyes fixed on her in a threatening glare. He stood to his full height, towering over everyone in the room, including her mother. “I suggest you obey it.”

“How dare you address my daughter like that!” Her father stepped in, his own threat-glare flashing, tail erect and a deep rumbling sound coming from his throat.

“Enough!” Her mother screeched. “I’m sick of your bickering. Be silent or I’ll have you both exiled!” They backed away from each other, glowering. Naxsa tried to steady her breathing. It wasn’t hopeless. She would talk to her mother later and she would make her see reason. What good was preferential treatment if you couldn’t exercise it now and again? She was about to agree, raise her tail in apologetic submission and leave, when someone else who she hadn’t noticed before, emerged from the back of the room. Her older sister, Visyana.

“Her!” Naxsa gasped. “How was she allowed in here and not me?” Visyana just leaned against a pillar and smirked.

“What, you think I’d miss the show?” Visyana said, with that infuriating expression she always had. Something inside Naxsa snapped. She was done. For twenty years - her entire life - she had been the youngest daughter, the heir to the throne, the most important in every room, the most beloved. Now, she was being cast aside just because this child, this squeaking baby, had been born a girl. And her sister, who had hated her her whole life, was standing there revelling in it. Naxsa made a grab for the child. She never meant to hurt her, just to hold her, just to see what all the fuss was about and why her life was being turned upside down.

Her mother snarled, canines sharp and spittle flying. Stepping in the way, she smacked Naxsa across the face, sending her sprawling to the floor.

Naxsa was in shock. Her mother had never hit her in all her life. The room had gone deathly still, besides the mewling cries of the baby in the background. It was all Naxsa could do to stare up at the towering figure above. Empress Malaxsyala stood over her, framed in the last light of the day. She was the Sun incarnate. The Sun Queen. The embodiment of Syala Anyu on Earth. And she was Naxsa’s mother, glaring down at her with raw fury in her eyes.

“Mother, please!” She said, blinking back tears.

“Get out!” Malaxsyala roared.

Naxsa fled, past Inyaxsa and Malaxzyar still standing in the doorway, past her mother’s statue and the tapestries, up the spiralling steps of the tower to her old rooms. She burst through the doors, sobbing. The plush cushions and silken drapes had been cleaned and pressed, her clothes and belongings tidied away and in the corner a cot had been placed next to her old bed. Ready for a new occupant. The doors out to the balcony were open and the curtains flapping in the evening breeze. In a daze Naxsa stumbled out into the open air and clutched onto the stone balustrade. Tears streaming from her face she looked out at her Empire. The Empire, she reminded herself. Hers no longer.

Syala Anyu had disappeared below the mountains now, on her nightly voyage into the underworld to search for the stolen Mind Forge. Stars were just blinking into view overhead. The Goddess Ixsamala would be up there now, sailing and laughing with her celestial dolphins across the Winding Waterway. Occasionally a glimpse of one of them could be seen as they streaked across the sky. 

Naxsa’s face was still stinging. Her mother had never hit her in her entire life. She’d seen her hit Visyana, sure, but Visi had been asking for it, hadn’t she? Chiding and probing at Naxsa like she always did. Is this how she felt when I was born? Her older sister had always despised her as far back as she could remember. She hiccupped and wiped her streaming nose on a handkerchief. Was she doomed to follow Visyana now, constantly seeking her Mother’s affection again - affection that was now entirely reserved for her younger half-sister?

In the distance, along the coast, Varana was waking up for the night. Bioluminescent lamps were appearing across the city as raxan workers woke for their nightly tasks. The last ships were coming into port, below the vast legs and scaffolding of the Colossus of the Sun, her mother’s ongoing dynastic project, shaped in her likeness. Offshore, the occulan city of Inquammar glittered and rippled with bioluminescence beneath the dark waters.

What would she do with her life now if she was not to be the Sun Queen? She had spent so many nights out here on the balcony as a young girl, gazing at the lights and sounds and smells of everything that would one day be hers. I had it all planned out. My entire court. Who I would choose from the Matriarchia. The husbands I would take. How the poets would sing of my reign. Naxsyala the Great they would say, the Eighth Empress! All a dream. She laughed, and then kept laughing. Throwing back her head, she cackled at the heavens that had done this to her. She screeched and kicked and clawed at the balustrade, at her clothes, at her fur. It was so obvious what was happening! Everyone knew the Haxsamid Great Family had been spurned a few years ago in attempting to betrothe one of their sons to Naxsa. Now they sought to place one of their own on the throne through Haxzyar. This treachery couldn’t go unpunished. Not as long as she lived!

“I did warn you you might not like what you find” a voice said behind her. She whirled around. Himyar was standing there, leaning against the doorframe. He had a habit of just appearing in places without warning. She supposed she knew how, now.

“What are you doing here?” She sniffed. “Did you just come here to say ‘I told you so’?” 

“No, I didn't,” he said. “It’s not right. The throne is yours, it has been your entire life.”

“Well, this is how it works. This is how it has always worked.” She turned her head away so he wouldn’t see her crying.

“In the Empire, maybe.” He came and joined her at the balustrade, staring out at the distant lights of Varana. “You know, in my homeland beyond the desert, they don’t do succession like this.”

“How do you know?” She sniffed. As far as she knew he had always lived here in the palace.

“My father told me stories. Before he was taken away.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” she said. Sometimes Naxsa forgot about the gulf in status between them. A third or fourth generation slave, Himyar was presumably descended from survivors of the Great Human Genocide at the end of the Last Human War a hundred years ago. And yet, he had always been such a staple of her life growing up. Always down there in the kitchens with the other slave boys ready to sneak off to play when she wanted, no matter how many lashes it earned him later.

“In the Human Kingdoms,” he continued, waving away her sympathy, “it’s the eldest child who succeeds.”

“The eldest boy, you mean” she snorted, still baffled by the thought. How did men, with all their heated emotions and constant competitiveness, ever get anything done?

“Yes, in that respect we are different too,” Himyar smiled. “But what I mean is that if you’re born the heir, you stay the heir.”

“Well, perhaps the Empire could learn a thing or two from the Human Kingdoms.” She snarled and clenched her fists around the balustrade. In the distance, amongst the mountains, a flock of kronar was circling in one of their sunset rituals. The breeze was picking up now, making the curtains flap about behind them. It was in these moments that Naxsa was relieved to have her coating of fur and not the naked skin of humans.

“Is there really nothing you can do?” Himyar asked. “I take it you didn’t get to speak to your Mother?”

“She won’t listen. Tomorrow morning, kronar will be sent to every corner of the Empire to announce the news, and the new heir will be presented before the Matriarchia for them to swear eternal loyalty to.”

“Well, those same Matriarchs swore eternal loyalty to you, didn’t they?” He frowned.

“Yes, they did.” Naxsa still had a vague memory of being held aloft as a baby before the entire assembled Matriarchia, all chanting an oath of loyalty under the blazing sun.

“Well there you go. Besides, even if they go along with the oath, you still have friends in the Matriarchia. Powerful friends.”

He was right of course. She was not naïve enough to believe herself universally loved by the Matriarchia, but she knew she had support. After all, she was officially betrothed to sons of both the Valaranids and the Lyxsalids, two of the most powerful Great Families, even if she found the Lyxsalid boy slightly revolting. Those betrothals would be automatically carried over to the new heir, but after all the diplomatic work Naxsa had done to ensure the support of those families for her reign, how would they feel about being passed onto a new heir - a baby, no less?

She had made a real effort, knowing how much her family needed the military support of the Lyxsalids and their huge shipbuilding ports that supplied the Eastern Fleet. Meanwhile the Valaranids may be of Tartessian stock but their new young Matriarch, Zaola Valaranis, was a force of nature in both the courthouse and on the battlefield. How would she react to her ally being cast aside?

Plus, from her school days in the Imperial Naval Academy Naxsa was still good friends with the daughters of the Menaxids and Galaxsanids, two wealthy Great Families who owned silver mines in Iberia and estates along the Nile. Neither had any love for the Haxsamids and their faction, that was for sure. How would they feel about having to swear loyalty to a Haxsamid baby? 

Besides, infants died in childhood all the time. That was nothing unusual. Perhaps expected, even. After all, wasn’t that the reason her Mother had seized the throne in her coup in the first place, after the only daughter of Vanaxsyala died in childhood? If her mother had taught her anything it was that the weak gave way to the strong, and there was nothing weaker than a child on the Imperial Throne.

Naxsa began to grin, kneading her palms into the stone balustrade. Maybe all is not so lost after all she mused to herself.

“There we go,” Himyar said. He wrapped his lips over his teeth and drew them back in an imitation of a macazan grin. “That’s the Naxsa I know. Never giving in without a fight!” 

“Oh, don’t worry, Himmy” she laughed, “no little royal brat is stealing my birthright from me! But I’m going to need your help.” She turned and outlined her plans.

“Exciting,” he grinned. “Playing secrets and spies, just like old times!”

“Just like old times!” Naxsa grinned back. She looked down at the rest of the palace far below, now glowing with bio-lamps. She could still see everyone scurrying around anxiously, uncertain of what the future held. Naxsa still had something to say about that though.

“Don’t worry little one,” she said to herself. “Big Sister Naxsa is going to take good care of you.”

By the time she made it back to Borgis and Ansgar at her palanquin, she had already put the first steps of her plan into motion.