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Gods, my throat hurts. The light fades from his eyes, and my screaming is interrupted by a sob. Blinking hard, I drag my arm across my eyes. I will properly grieve for him once I’m done here. Depending on how I feel after this, I may join him. Kal and fixing our realm have been my reason for living for five years. What do I have after I complete this mission?

Forcing my lungs to work despite the burning sensation in my chest, I stride into the dining room.

“I believe you’re looking for me, Cindercunt?” I ask. My voice is raspy and hoarse, but I play it off well. I found one of the hidden passages after helping my people spread the ricin powder into the air vents of just the auditors who live in the castle and any guards who skipped dinner.

We are well on our way to victory, now. I’m unsure yet if the cost will be worth it. I stood hidden behind a tapestry to watch things, waiting to see if I would be needed. I should have stepped out earlier, looked harder for my brother, done something.

I’m drowning in regret, but that’ll also have to wait.

“How dare you speak to me like that?” Cinder snarls, dropping my brother as if he’s yesterday’s trash. His head clunks down on the table, before he slides to the ground. Silla winces from where she stands next to Grayson and Ayden, tears streaming down her face. My mistress’s neck, dress, and hands are streaked and covered with blood, and I’m forced to wonder what I’ve missed. The front of her dress gaps open, though she was able to tie the top of it. Who was manhandling her?

Ayden gives me a sympathetic look before he buries it. I could have blinked and thought I imagined it. Seeing me, Silla forces herself to stop crying. We’re both very alike: we can compartmentalize well. The problem is that at some point, the boxes have to be opened to remember those who have fallen. The darkness will wait, though this won’t.

“Your time as queen is done,” Silla says. Her voice is strong and measured, though her eyes are red with grief. “Meet Charming’s nephew. You just killed his other one, Cinder. He is the last living heir now.”

Cinder looks confused as she looks down at her hands, my brother’s blood is still dripping from them. Throwing the knife she’s still holding on the table, she shakes her head.

“There’s no way I’d know that. The boy said he was an orphan,” she scoffs. “You’re guilty of treason to the crown, as evidence of your collusion with Drizella to take it from me.”

Silla growls under her breath, moving to my side. Grayson’s lip twists into a snarl of displeasure, but Ayden and he are quick to flank us.

“Did you not learn your lesson, Grayson? Is your brand not a proper daily reminder?”

“Cinder,” Lana interrupts softly, pushing herself off the chair to stand. Damn, where did Cinder even find this girl? They have both racked up an unmentionable amount of grievances against Silla, and are both on my list to die. The pacifist died a quick death when my brother did, though the stories I’ve heard about them didn’t help.

I don’t see Charming, whatever happened to him occurred before I started watching the dining room. I imagine he’s also dead if I’m the last heir, and a threat to her.

“Your reign of terror ends, dear sister,” Silla says, taking a step forward. My hand grabs the skirt of her dress, tugging her to a stop. No more of our people will perish, especially not her. My very last tether to this world has to live, even if I’m not sure I want to after this.

We all collectively ignore the creepy black-haired girl, while still paying attention to her movements.

“You’re not well, Cinder, you said so yourself,” Ayden says gently. His voice is a balm, calm and soothing. It’s disconcerting, especially when he’s slowly pulling a knife from behind Silla’s back.

This is war, and these two will not be leaving.

“You should call for the guards,” Lana says urgently, trying again.

“The guard was ill,” Cinder says, her voice weak as she tries to process things. “Why…”

“I haven’t the faintest idea, Your Majesty. It could simply be a bug.” Grayson lies with a shrug. “Your husband is dead, people are making moves to deny your divorce. No one trusts you. How many times do people seek Silla’s advice over yours in a meeting?”

I glare at him, not wanting to make her the focus. His gaze is firmly on Cinder’s, and she’s hyperventilating with anger as she glares at him. It means that they both miss Silla as she pulls a long pin from her hair, hiding it in the folds of her dress. They planned for war and death, though not the casualties we’re facing.

None of us could have imagined that.

“You’re pissed at me, Cinder. What are you going to do about it?” Silla boldly goads her. She’s armed, but Godsdamnit I would be happier if she had something more substantial than a poisoned hair pin. Too many things could go wrong.

Releasing the fabric of her skirt, I doomsday list them all as she steps forward.

Cinder could stab Silla with the knife she just picked up from the dining table. She could punch and hurt her. She could kill her.

Someone grabs my elbow, pinching the inside soft skin. Hissing, it’s barely auditory, but the pain helps clear my vision and the panic.

“She’s fine, dog,” Ayden mutters. “Let our girl work.”

“In some ways, I feel sorry for you. Poor, broken, Cinder who never got her shit together. You break people the way you were broken. You had me defiled, took my voice away, just like your father did to you,” Silla says derisively.

I definitely missed a lot earlier.