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Chapter 6

IRIS

“I will make myself clear—this is not a negotiation.”

The queen’s expression remained undisturbed, the look of a seasoned chess player who knew, without a doubt, that no matter what move her opponent made, the outcome would remain unchanged.

“And leave my daughter in your hands?” My mother took a step toward the twin thrones, her voice ringing through the icy chamber. “How am I to know this is not some sick scheme of retribution, Genevieve?”

Before the guards could raise their weapons, a wall of ice materialized in front of Zinnia, Sarek, and me, halting any further movement. Queen Genevieve laid a hand on her husband’s forearm, leaning in to whisper something in his ear. Without so much as a glance from the king, the ice shrank, receding until it was no higher than our knees.

“If I sought retribution, Zinnia, it would not be her life I demanded.” Disgust—no, fury—coiled through her words.

The carefully curated exterior had cracked, and now hatred seeped through every crevice.

“Unless you have lied to me previously, Iris is the same age as my son—well past the age of maturity and fully ascended into her essence. There is no threat to her life or safety here. She is more than capable of fulfilling the terms of this contract without you.”

“This is between you and me, Genevieve. There is no need to drag my child into it.” Zinnia’s voice edged on pleading.

“Is that so?” The queen’s gaze sharpened. “You involved my children when you brought poisons into this palace that nearly assassinated my entire family.”

The weight of the glass vials hidden in my skirts suddenly grew unbearable. The floor seemed to tilt beneath me.

In all my prodding, Zinnia had refused to tell me why the life debt existed.

She was proficient in poisons.

We both were.

Where she had abandoned the practice years ago, preaching we no longer needed to rely on back-alley transactions to survive, I had not.

The title that was so often spewed in her direction, Vaelithe’s Vilemancer , long since belonged to me.

I still dealt in illegal potions, from memory modifiers and heavy sleeping draughts to truly lethal concoctions, for very specific circumstances. Women who were escaping abusive partnerships, girls who were unsafe in their homes, who came to me with bruises and scars unseen. I refused to turn them away.

But supplying an assassin with the means to wipe out an entire royal lineage?

How desperate had we been during that visit?

No wonder we hadn’t left Vaelithe in fifteen years. Even with moving through the realm for several years before finally opening the Raven’s Grove, we’d remained within the borders. I didn’t doubt there had been a stipulation buried within the agreement, to keep Zinnia from fleeing.

She was nothing if not an expert at disappearing.

“What am I to believe you want with my daughter, then?” Zinnia’s voice rose, sharp with desperation.

Be smart, Iris.

“I wish for your expertise, Zinnia, without ever having to endure your presence.” Queen Genevieve spat the words like venom. “You have trained her well. Her work with the infirmary and this young gentleman?—”

Don't draw attention, Iris.

“I will not allow?—”

“I will stay.” My voice was steady as I met the queen’s gaze. “I accept these terms.”

“Iris, you cannot. You do not under?—”

“I have decided, Mother.”

I reached for her hand, and the flames extinguished instantly. I breathed in her warmth, my vision blurring with unshed tears.

“You have given me so much,” I whispered. “Please, let me do this for you.”

Zinnia shook her head frantically, her wild eyes pleading. But before she could protest further, Queen Genevieve clapped her hands together, silencing my mother’s protest, and rose from her icy throne.

“It is settled.”

She approached the ice barrier, extending her hand. Zinnia hesitated, her fist clenched, before exhaling a shuddering breath and pressing her palm to the queen’s.

“I bring upon this bound life debt, a revision of terms.”

The golden Threads of the old life debt binding erupted around their forearms at the queen’s words, climbing to their shoulders and encasing them in a shimmering sphere. The melodic hum of Threader magic filled the silent chamber, the strands pulsing in time with each note.

The queen tilted her head toward me, braids unraveling slightly as they reached in my direction.

Swallowing back nausea, I placed my palm against the sphere, the magic coiling around my fingers. The weight of it pressed into me—my entire being unsettled at being engulfed by magic so similar to that which I discarded.

Piercing grey eyes met vivid forest-green as the queen’s voice rose over the growing harmony.

“Zinnia Virlana, to fulfill the terms of your life debt, Iris Virlana will remain in Kacidon until an acceptable remedy is found for the Malum. She will not leave this realm unless accompanied by a member of royal family or their private guard. Zinnia, your former banishment remains in place. You may enter these lands only by a royal summons. Any interference in Iris Virlana’s research or the discovery of a cure will deem the terms of the life debt broken, and the consequences of such will ensue. These consequences remain yours and yours alone to bear.”

The queen’s words echoed, spiraling through my mind, unraveling everything I knew.

The consequences of breaking a life debt.

If I failed to find a cure…

If we fled…

If anyone interfered…

Zinnia would die.

Her slivers of power from the Goddesses would be transferred to Queen Genevieve.

My lifeline. My comfort. My mother.

Gone.

“Healer Sarek,” the queen continued, oblivious to the world shattering around me. “While you are not obligated to assist, we offer a generous sum for your contributions. You are not required to remain in this realm, but you would be expected to maintain regular contact with our healers and visit when summoned.”

Sarek glanced between the three of us as we lowered our hands, the last echoes of magic dissipating.

“I accept your terms, Your Majesty.” His voice was even, but his gaze lingered on us as he stepped forward, extending a reassuring hand.

Do not worry.

The words weren’t spoken aloud, but I felt them in my mind—the Cerescript connection formed the moment his skin brushed mine.

I will keep an eye on Iris .

His hand dropped from mine, severing the connection. But he lingered against Zinnia a moment longer, no doubt assuring her further.

I appreciated the sentiment, but deep down, it grated.

Zinnia’s worry, I understood—she had witnessed unthinkable horrors where I was concerned. I expected nothing less. But the others? The coddling?

I was tired of it.

Sarek, like so many, mistook my kindness for weakness. It was one of the reasons why I had refused to continue our tryst when he returned.

One did not have to be cruel in order to show resilience.

I was not some helpless, trembling creature.

I would miss my mother, but I was more than capable of looking after myself without her. I did so far more than she realized already.

At last, the king rose, moving to stand beside his wife.

“If that is all,” Queen Genevieve said, already turning toward the door behind her. She did not spare us a second glance.

“The guard will remain while you say your goodbyes. Zinnia, a carriage awaits to escort you back to Vaelithe. You leave immediately.”