Page 86

“Hello, Ev. Oh, how I’ve missed you.” Her voice is a welcome sound. I really have missed her too, despite everything.

My mother never chose this. And I never told anyone.

And now as I step back, I can see the terror seizing Bria, her expression frozen in shock and horror.

It’s awful to see her like that and my hand flies to my chest, expecting my heart to tear from my body.

It’s breaking with the fear that she will never look at me the same. Not now.

I reach my hand out to her and she recoils. I won’t pretend that doesn’t sting in the worst way and I drag in a breath, trying to steady myself from her reaction.

“Don’t,” she hisses back at me. “Don’t touch me.”

Fuck. I’ve royally screwed everything up.

“Bria, dear. Don’t be angry at Evander. If he told you it was me, would you have come willingly?” My mother speaks directly to her, golden eyes warm when she looks upon Bria, her words breathy, airy. She always did love Bria fiercely.

Bria’s eyes slice back to my mother, finally taking in the scene of the crumpled form in the corner, barely remaining between life and death, and the staff clutched in my mother’s long, lithe fingers.

The staff is gold, crafted from a tree in the Gilded Forest. It’s knotted and curved, winding at the top around a mystical crystal orb that glows a luminous white-blue.

All pretenses are gone now. I can tell just by looking at Bria. She’s done pretending and gods damned over playing this role. I’m not convinced she won’t kill us all in her efforts to get her sister out alive. Me included.

“Never,” she seethes, her words dripping with disgust.

Aamon slowly but surely moves to the other side of my mother, assuming a protective stance not for the woman he married—he doesn’t give a shit about her—but for the priestess.

“I thought as much. He did what he had to do, Bria,” she responds, and Bria’s body stiffens, her limbs going rigid.

“Olaphina, how could you?” she questions, disbelief apparent in her tone. “How could you hurt innocent people like this?”

Just like the mask I wear around my father, I see the mask of the capital, the role my mother has to play, slip back into place easily, as she has done for many years. Ever since he broke her. Her features smooth over, the fire darkening to a deep gold in her eyes.

It used to disturb me before I found my own walls to put up. It doesn’t bother me anymore though, not after what she’s been through.

“Dear girl, your powers are stolen. They do not belong to you, nor do they belong to any of these others. None of you are innocent,” she explains, waving her hand in a wide arc, gesturing to the slumped body in the corner and the expanse of cells disappearing down the dirt corridor.

“You will give your power back, whether you choose to do so or not. Vaohr will take what is rightfully his. If you comply, this will be easy. Your life can be your own, you can live with Evander and be married. Have children and let them be raised by the priests and myself. They could be raised by their own grandmother. Don’t you see how lucky you are?

” Her voice hitches the smallest bit when she says the word “grandmother,” and I wonder if Bria notices.

If she has any idea how my mother really feels and how much this must be killing her inside.

“I love you, Bria, but if you fight me, child… You will suffer a great deal.”

I move closer to Bria, expecting she might run but she remains, and I should have known better. She was nervous before, but she is determined now, her eyes fixed on the high priestess.

“Is this necessary?” I ask, trying to calm the situation, unsure of how we ended up here. Unsure of why we aren’t in the temple and instead in these dank dungeons. And unsure of why my mother is provoking her so.

“You would be wise to watch yourself, boy.” Aamon’s lip curls up, an amused sneer on his face. There’s no love lost between he and Bria and he’s keen on letting that show. “The king wants her power more than anything, and by any means.”

I clear my throat, trying to dislodge the lump that’s forming there. As I thought before, something has changed. They have new information or have figured something out to be acting this way, to be trying to scare her, to intimidate her and trick her into using her magic.

“You said we were to be married, have children and live here, serving Vaohr. Then you take us to the dungeons and treat her like-like she’s some petty criminal?” I shake my head. “I don’t understand.”

My mother speaks again, to my father’s clear irritation.

“That dose of belladonna should have been lethal to a normal person.” My stomach nearly drops out of my body, my blood running icy cold at the memory of Bria almost taking it.

She came so close to dying and we didn’t even know.

“And yet from what Aamon says, she was barely phased. We cannot tread lightly here, Evander. Bria needs to understand her role, understand her service.”

So that’s what this is.

They believe her to be so powerful that she overcame a dosing that should have been deadly to a petite girl like herself.

That kind of power could help them exponentially and in the king’s eyes, there is no time to waste.

Now that they know, he doesn’t need to wine and dine her.

There’s no need to have her give power willingly.

..or even have children willingly. All his plan requires is my mother overpowering her, subduing her, and then Braddock can do whatever the fuck he wants.

Like he always does. The dinner was just so they could scope her out, analyze her, and determine her strengths and weaknesses.

And I am a gods damned idiot. I missed all of that and we were fooled. My gut told me we were walking into a trap, and I didn’t believe it.

My mother takes a step toward Bria, and I throw myself in front of her, pushing her back behind me and using my body to shield her.

My mother may care for Bria and may wish that no harm comes to her, but that doesn’t mean she won’t hurt her.

It doesn’t mean she hasn’t caused harm to hundreds of people who did nothing wrong, just like Bria.

Aamon is here, and she will do whatever is expected of her while he’s present.

And I refuse to let Bria be another one of her victims.

I clench my jaw and slam my teeth together. “You’re not touching her,” I grind out.

The gold in my mother’s eyes flickers and I hear a small sound come out of her, a quiet hum.

Her lips move wordlessly, and though I abruptly recognize what she’s doing, it’s too late for me to stop it.

She lifts the staff and my body collapses to the ground, pain searing through my head as I crash into a world of darkness.