Page 3 of A Traitor Sister (Remnants of the Fallen Kingdom #2)

3

TARLIA

I should stay calm and use my mind to find an escape, but the possibility of seeing Ziven dead overwhelms me with terror.

Fachin and his companion are standing, looking at us.

Here we are. Outnumbered. Surrounded. All I have is one tiny dagger, while Ziven’s magic weakens by the second.

I feel his hand grab mine, then he says, “Let’s run.”

There’s a thin opening between Fachin and our guards, and we dash in that direction, jumping over bushes and dodging trees. I’m not sure if this will work, but I don’t have any better idea.

When you can’t fight, run .

I can still hear some of Otavio’s bootlickers telling us this precious piece of wisdom, ignoring the fact that when you are at a disadvantage in a fight, running won’t help much either, unless you know for sure you’re faster than your adversaries. I don’t know if we’re faster.

The forest is dense, making it hard to gain speed. Shrubs scratch and cut my legs, while we dodge trees and jump over roots. My heart feels heavy like lead and thin like glass, about to shatter into a million pieces, and yet it’s working at its full capacity, pumping blood in my veins, pushing me into running faster and faster, even if there are no guarantees that running will save us.

“Run,” Ziven says. “They want me, not you.”

I turn to look back at him, and my breath falters. He stopped running, and his eyes are unfocused. Fachin and two guards approach him, and my entire body trembles in fear.

Ziven gestures for me to keep going. “Go. I’ll hold them off.” He turns his back to me as if to convince me to ignore him.

I should hold them off, if it’s Ziven they want—but I don’t think he can run anymore. Or fight. And I can’t protect him from five men.

My legs make the decision before my mind, and I find myself running away from Ziven, from Fachin, from Krastel, running away from everything.

Coward legs. Or perhaps not coward, but rational.

The faces of those guards flash through my mind, and mix with the Krastel princes, with Otavio, feeding my thirst for revenge. Now it’s not only my family I have to avenge, but Ziven. I want to scream, to lie down and cry, but if I want those men to pay for what they are doing, I have to remain strong. I have survived so much for so long, survived and waited for the right moment. I can do it some more.

They’ll pay for this. Oh, they’ll pay. It doesn’t matter that I have no idea how. Rage fuels my heart, gives strength to my legs, even if they feel brittle and weak, even if all I want is to allow myself to shatter like ice, then melt and disappear, so that this pain stops. So that I escape this emptiness.

Tears blur my eyes and I don’t know how I keep moving forward.

Coward.

Maybe all these thoughts of revenge are just an excuse. But no, the easiest choice would be to return to Krastel, then go back to my flimsy position as a substitute, while biding my time. Instead, I’m running into nothingness, with nowhere to go and absolutely no plan. Alone and lost in fae lands.

And burning with guilt.

“Stop!” a voice behind me shouts.

I guess my conscience’s voice is not my own, after all.

“Stop!” I hear it again, muffled by the rustling of leaves and the buzzing in my head, muffled by all the pain in my chest. “Stop, princess! You’re safe.”

I decide to pause and turn. Far behind me, a blue-skinned fae beckons me. Perhaps this is a dream. Perhaps I fell and hit my head, and now I’m imagining some heroic rescuers. Either way, I don’t think she means any harm, and I approach her.

Blue skin, blue hair, pointy ears. It’s a gorgeous fae girl staring at me with worry in her eyes. “Are you all right?”

“No,” I grunt. My throat is so dry that no decent sound comes out. “Ziven’s dead.”

Dead. Dead. I can’t believe I voiced it. Can’t believe it happened. Can’t believe any of this is true.

“The prince?” Her voice sounds oddly cheerful. “He’s fine.”

I stare at her, digesting her words, trying to find a trick. But she’s fae.

She’s fae. And she’s saying Ziven’s alive!

My crumpled heart gains new strength, and I run back the way I came, my eyes still blurry, except that now they’re shedding tears of relief.

From a distance, I see Ziven lying on the ground and two blue fae standing beside him. I approach him, kneel, take his hand, and check his pulse.

His heart’s beating.

No new wounds.

I can breathe again. His eyes are closed, though, and he seems unconscious.

“Ziven…” I mutter. I’ll do anything to hear his voice again, even if it’s uttering harsh words condemning my choices.

“Overused his magic and lost blood,” a fae beside me says. “He’ll need rest.”

It’s the same blue-skinned fae who called me. It’s when I dare look around me and see all our attackers fallen.

“What about the men?” I ask.

“Dead. We had to be fast, and we aren’t breaching the treaty. They aren’t allowed to commit crimes on this side of the river.”

Dead. All dead. I’m relieved, perhaps even glad that they got what they deserved, and yet a part of me mourns Fachin. I can still recall those nights when his presence, his body erased all my agony. He was my friend once, my relief, my escape—before he decided to trade everything for some pointless reward. He got his reward now.

And then it hits me. We were saved. I don’t know why these fae did it, or what they’ll ask in return, but right now, I don’t care. My heart’s bursting with gratitude and joy. The tears in my eyes wash away my horror, my fear. I turn to the fae near me. “Thank you. Thank you.”

“Dangerous words.” The fae raises an eyebrow.

Never thank a fae . I know. And yet thank you doesn’t even come close to expressing what I feel. “You got rid of some dangerous men. I think I’ll take a chance with my words.” And I’ll need even more help from them. “Do you know where I can take the prince? To rest?”

The fae look at each other, then one of them says, “Promise you’ll never tell anyone who rescued you, and never disclose the location where we’re taking you.”

“Yes. Of course.”

Those simple words go against all the training I had on how to deal with the fae. I should ask for some guarantees that they won’t harm me or Ziven, but right now, I just want to save him, and to be fair, I don’t think they have any ill intentions.

If they did, they would probably find a breech in my words anyway.

Two blue girls crouch and lift Ziven’s unconscious body. The other fae approaches me. For a few seconds, I feel dizzy.

Then there’s nothing.

RENEL

V ictory is volatile.

So I vanquished my brother. Captured him. Something I never thought I’d be capable of. And yet as I leave the cells in the Desert Keep, the feeling in my chest is not satisfaction, but dread. How long until he escapes? What if he’s killed? Would it count as my fault? A cold chill creeps up my back despite the suffocating desert heat.

The thing with victory is that once there, your only way is down. Down, down, down, where I’ve always been told I’d end. Yet I’m still hanging, driven by a steadfast will to survive.

It’s not a survival instinct. Oh no, none of that. I have no love for my life. And yet once I realized my own family wanted me dead, I had no choice. Spite made me want to survive.

Here I am. Alive. Leaving my brother in one of the safest prisons of the Crystal Court, and yet wondering how long it will hold him. Wondering if he’ll even consider my proposal.

Azur walks beside me, his breath huffed, the way he always does when he’s displeased. Sometimes I wonder if he does it on purpose, as a way to scold me, or if he’s just that transparent. While I usually don’t like to upset him, I had to send him away, as the conversation was between me and my brother.

Great conversation, when no words came out. What was I supposed to say? Can a bottomless emptiness form words?

And yet he truly wants me dead. Well, I’m alive—and therefore winning by default.

As we pass the gate, I look back at the giant closing it behind us, an eerie feeling in my stomach. I don’t like to have giants serving us, but I wasn’t going to contradict the Council about such a small matter.

I’m glad when I step back into the flying carriage, eager to leave this intolerable heat behind. Azur sits across from me, his eyes distant, while the pixies stay outside.

I wonder if their fragile wings will survive this heat. “Are they going to fly?”

Azur huffs. “They’ll hold the harnesses and transcend with us.” His voice is sharp like a sword.

I pretend not to notice his tone and mutter, “I see.”

He glares at me one last time before closing his eyes. The brightness of the desert transforms into darkness, and in a few seconds we’re back in the forest bordering the Shadow Lands, where I found my brother and the Tiurian girl.

Azur opens the door. “Back to the castle,” he tells the pixies. He then closes the door and smirks. “Let’s hope it’s where we left it.”

I swallow, but it feels like my throat is full of tar. Five more moves. Five more. And one of them could be happening just now, as our carriage lifts into the skies.

Azur tilts his head and narrows his eyes. “You think it will be gone?”

“I left the castle. You know what happens when?—”

“Two hours, Renel.” He waves a hand. “I know you love your drama, but let’s not exaggerate.”

“Oh, no. I’ll just sit quietly and watch the Crystal Castle make its way into a pit of fire.”

Azur looks down and bites his lip, hopefully not biting a laugh. I don’t think he fully believes me, and I’m not sure if it’s any relief that he doesn’t dare contradict me openly.

He looks me in the eye. “You found your solution. Soon you’ll acquire magic, and the castle won’t bother you anymore.”

His tone… Something about it feels odd. “And the idea upsets you?”

He shakes his head quickly. Too quickly. “You know it’s not that.” He stares outside, even though there’s nothing but endless sky around us.

“You wanted to overhear me and my brother.” It’s not a question.

“Not overhear… I…” He snorts. “I’m sworn to protect you. Why would you send me away when facing your greatest enemy?”

Greatest enemy. I don’t know if it’s a gross exaggeration or a hilarious insight, and don’t want to consider it.

“He was behind bars.” I raise my hand with the Shadow Ring. “His magic subdued. You really think I’m that much of an incompetent?”

“Of course not. I wanted to protect you, that’s all.”

I shrug. “There wasn’t much to overhear, but I thought he would be more…” Brotherly? Friendly? Loving? What crazy ideas are going through my head? “ Malleable, if it was just me.”

“Was he?”

“No.” The word comes out with an odd laugh.

He stares at me. “You need to threaten his wife.”

“He says he doesn’t care about her.”

Azur raises an eyebrow. “Do you believe him?”

“It doesn’t matter. Unlike my brother, I wasn’t born with the ability to lie. How can I threaten someone I don’t mean to hurt?”

He leans back in his seat and puts his hands behind his head. “Just be creative. Tell him if he doesn’t collaborate, you’ll send him pieces of her. You don’t need to mention that you’re going to send her hair.”

“I have more pressing issues.” I stare at Azur. “Now, don’t tell anyone we found him.”

He chuckles. “You think I was going to announce it to the council or something?”

I don’t like his playful tone. “Give me your word, Azur. You won’t tell anyone where he is, won’t tell anyone you’ve seen him, won’t tell anyone I’ve captured him.”

His face hardens at once. “You don’t trust me.”

“Your word,” I insist.

He stares at me and leans forward. “I give you my word that I won’t tell anyone you’ve captured your brother, where he is, or that I’ve seen him this morning, and I accept your command, Your Highness.”

I guess he’s back to his dramatics. I pretend not to notice it. “Good.”

“Any other command ?” He stresses this last word.

“No.” I sigh. I should ignore his tone, but Azur is not only my sworn protector; he’s my best friend. “Azur.” I look into his eyes. “You’re the person I trust the most in this world.”

“A little more than zero is still a little. You trust nobody. I don’t blame you, but?—”

“If I didn’t trust you, you wouldn’t be here with me.”

His jaw relaxes and he chuckles. “And who would have taken you to the Shadow Desert?” It’s a joke but a slight provocation at the same time.

“Someone else. Might have taken longer, but it’s not like I went to the Blue Tower. And the promise is for your own good. Imagine if someone captures or corners you, forces you to answer them. You can rely on the word you gave me, and nobody will fault you.”

He stares at me for some time. “Is that how you feel? About your deal with Marlak? That you’re glad your promise keeps you from killing him?”

“I’d gain nothing from causing his death. A curse, maybe. Nothing else.”

“Unless you got him to crown you first,” Azur suggests.

“He wouldn’t do it without some life guarantee and who knows what else.”

“His wife’s safety.”

I roll my eyes. “He doesn’t care about her. I, on the other hand, need her.”

“You could also capture the dark unicorn. He was spotted?—”

“Near the Court of Bees.” I make an effort to keep my voice steady, to prevent any unwanted emotion from overwhelming me. “Yes, I got the reports. Spotted by fae high on sprinkled wine and starry powder.”

“Spotted by more than one fae. The beast is around. Alive. If you capture it?—”

“If. That’s such a gigantic word. Why should I go on a futile chase, when I have the Tiurian girl?”

“I was just saying you have options.” He takes a deep breath. “But if she has Tiurian magic?—”

“She does. That’s why my brother abducted her. She absolutely has Tiurian magic. I’m sure of that.”

He raises one shoulder. “Then the rest is easy. She’ll give you your magic.”

Easy is a strange, foreign word. Can it be that easy? Can I truly avert disaster? Five more moves.

TARLIA

W ater drips somewhere, drips and echoes like it never does in the constrained walls of the Elite Tower. My eyes snap open and I reach for my dagger—but find my pocket empty. I sit up quickly and realize I’m in a cave with rough stone walls, sunlight coming from a slit in the ceiling. A blond fae man crouches by a straw bed, where Ziven lies down. Ziven.

The memory of what happened comes to my mind at once, and yet the lingering image in my mind is me—running like a coward. Leaving Ziven behind.

The fae turns to me and smiles. “I see you woke up.”

His face is handsome and friendly, untying the knot I had in my chest.

I approach him and crouch by Ziven. His chest is moving slowly, and I exhale with so much relief, so much joy. His pulse is normal and he has a bandage on his arm, but he’s asleep—or unconscious. “How’s he?”

“Lost some blood, almost severed his magic connection, but all he needs is some rest.”

“Severed what?”

The fae points at the bandage around Ziven’s arm. “His opus stone arm was hit, so it affected his magic. It’s like piercing a pipe that transports water. But it’s healing. And he’ll be fine.”

Fine. Unbelievable, after being outnumbered like that. “You saved us.”

“Not us,” he says. “Some fae from the Lost Court. They claim they owed Astra a favor, and that the favor was paid now.”

“What favor?”

He shrugs. “I didn’t ask.”

“But how?—”

“They think Astra will be happy that they saved your life.”

“I suppose. And who are you?”

“Astra’s friends.”

I take another look at him and realize that he has cat ears on top of his head, among his messy hair. Fae are weird.

“We might need your help.” Another man’s voice comes from the other side of the cave, from a handsome fae with dark skin and puffy hair.

“For what?”

He approaches us slowly, his movements graceful. “Astra’s in the Crystal Castle. There’s also a man from Krastel, a noble, scholar, something like that. Do you think she was captured?—”

The blond fae cuts him off, “ Of course she was captured.”

Astra in the Crystal Castle? With a man… Otavio? Is she the one he’ll use to seduce the Crystal Court King? But they would know she’s not the princess. Was everything meant for her?

The dark-skinned fae sighs. “I’m asking the questions here.” He turns to me. “Did she ever intend to leave Marlak?”

“We didn’t discuss her plans.” I recall then the look she exchanged with her husband. “But she was in love with the prince. And vice versa. Of that, I’m sure.”

“We know that,” the dark-haired fae says. “But?—”

I sit on the edge of the straw bed and straighten my back. “We’re going to do this right. Like people. Fae are people, right? I’m Tarlia. A princess substitute.” There goes our kingdom’s secret, but at this point, I couldn’t care less about that horrible place. “And you?”

“Nelsin.” The cat-eared fae points at himself, then points to his companion. “That’s Ferer, your grumpiness expert.”

Ferer rolls his eyes, then stares at me. “So you’re a guard, like Astra.”

“Yes.” But not the same, obviously, if Otavio is taking her to the Crystal Castle.

He points at Ziven. “Is he a guard, too?”

“A prince. Not one of the important ones, but their cousin. I mean, technically, he’s the most important prince, being the former king’s son, but there’s a complicated story around it. Complicated enough that they wanted him dead.”

Ferer shakes his head. “You were lucky that your assassins were so completely foolish as to try to murder him on this side of the river.”

I snort. “ Lucky and almost killed make an odd pair, but I’ll take it. We were also lucky that there were fae following us, eager to get rid of a debt.” I sigh. “I can’t believe Ziven’s alive.”

Ferer points to him. “When he awakes, we can escort you back to your kingdom.”

“Are you nuts?” Nelsin asks. “Return them to their killers?” He realized the lunacy of the suggestion even faster than I did.

Ferer glares at his friend. “I appreciate how much you think I’m stupid.”

“I don’t think that.” Nelsin frowns. “Idiotic ideas also visit brilliant minds. Sometimes.”

Ferer turns to me. “I assume you have somewhere to go, right?”

Right, right? Wrong, wrong. I point at Ziven. “He’s a prince. Raised in the Krastel castle—where people want to kill him.” The futility of my words hits me. It’s not like these fae are going to provide us shelter. The idea of running away and finding belonging in these lands feels childish now. I exhale. “I guess we could hide somewhere.”

“We’ll find a solution,” Ferer says. “But help us understand what’s going on with Astra.”

“I know less than you do. Last time I saw her was at the coronation. She stepped away, then… Wait. There was this fae woman, a princess from the Spider Court, I was told. She took Astra to a corner, and they disappeared. About an hour later, the Court of Bees princess herself came to me and told me Astra was safe, but she had to leave. Was she lying?”

“Astra has been taken to the castle this morning,” Ferer said. “Meanwhile, Prince Marlak disappeared.”

“Like…” I snap my fingers. “That?”

Ferer nods slowly. “None of our sources knows where he is.”

I try to think. “You mentioned a man from Krastel. Do you know what he looks like?”

“Long brown hair, not very young, not too old.”

“That might be Otavio, her master.” I recall more details then. “He’s my master too, and before I came to the fae lands, he asked me to tell Astra that he hadn’t forgotten her, that her torment would end soon. So I can see that he was planning to rescue her. But why would she…” I remember then Astra’s obedience, almost devotion to Otavio. “I mean, she could have followed Otavio out of her own will, yes.”

The two fae are staring at me, and I feel I need to explain it a little better. “Not will, but lack of choice, let’s say, or maybe lack of belief that she can trace her own path. But I’m also sure she loves her prince.” Another detail pops into my head. “She also told me she thinks Renel is cruel, so she wouldn’t go there willingly. But she was raised by Otavio and respects him. So… I don’t know.”

Ferer glances at his companion, then looks back at me. “You think she wouldn’t say no to this man, this Otavio, if he asked her to do something?”

“I think she would have trouble saying no . But then…” A chill fills my stomach. “If something happened to her husband, maybe she had no choice.” I can’t imagine her pain if her prince was killed.

Ferer bites his lip and nods. His worry is noticeable like a dark cloud over him.

Nelsin shakes his head with those odd cat ears. “Marlak’s alive. Has to be.”

Ferer keeps staring at the rough ground. “We hope so.”

“You know how I know it?” Nelsin lifts a finger. “They said Astra is unharmed. She wouldn’t just stand there and let them kill him.”

His certainty cheers me up, even if I barely know Prince Marlak.

Ferer turns to his friend, looking unconvinced. “And he would do whatever it took to prevent her from putting herself in danger. Whatever it took . You know him.”

Nelsin grimaces, then sighs.

At least Astra’s alive. Obviously. Otavio wouldn’t go through the trouble of raising her—and us—just to kill her. It was always her. I’ve known it for a while and yet ignored what it could mean.

Now my life has been changed forever. Even if I decided to return to Krastel and pretend I never saw anyone attacking Ziven, is there anything there for me?

Whatever plan Otavio had, it was for Astra, and now she’s exactly where he wants. This could be my chance to run away, to find a new life, but all I see is emptiness. And selfishness, thinking about my own problems when Astra might have lost her husband.

I ask, “What can I do to help?”

“I have an idea.” A young woman’s voice comes from the entrance of the cave.

I turn and see a pretty, dark-skinned fae girl, wearing a fuchsia dress and flowers in her hair, her brown eyes bright with determination.

Ferer frowns. “What are you doing here?”

“Helping. And I have a plan.”

MARLAK

T he Sundering Dagger is still in my pocket, my rings still in my hands. All dulled by the dark bracelets. I’m still surprised my brother didn’t search me, didn’t try to pry the relics from me. Perhaps he knew it would be useless, or maybe didn’t want to risk getting too close.

Would the dagger still work? I could break one of the guards’ enchantments, then get them to open my cell. It would exhaust the dagger’s magic, though. And if Renel is keeping an eye on this keep, he could find me. Maybe there’s something else out there ready to catch me if I escape. Would it count as his fault if I was killed in the desert?

The hot, dry air from the cell feels like sand in my lungs. There’s also Astra. What will they do to her if I escape? If only I could contact her, get her far from Renel. As if she would even listen to me.

At least she’s safe.

It doesn’t matter how many times I tell myself that, it never feels true. She’s hurt and angry. Angry at me. Hurt because of me. And in the hands of my enemy. I have no way to contact her, no way to warn her. No way to apologize, beg for forgiveness, tell her it was all a lie.

An escape attempt would be foolish now. My brother could decide to take out his frustration on Astra, or use her to lure me back, and I can’t risk it. I need to wait, make sure she’s safe first, even if every second here is an agony.

Perhaps my brother had a point in picking a fireproof cell. I’m about to combust.