Page 78 of Scorched Earth (Dark Shores #4)
LYDIA
Lydia felt all the blood drain from her face, the eyes of the most powerful men and women in Mudamora all fixed on her.
She did not want this.
She did not want to be queen.
She did not want to rule.
“Kitaryia Falorn is dead,” Hacken snapped. “And don’t think I don’t see through this ploy. Having one of your bodyguards, or whatever this girl is to you, ape the dead princess is beyond the pale.”
Betrayal turned her stomach to ice, because Malahi knew this wasn’t the life Lydia wanted to live, but she’d told everyone anyway. You were my friend, she wanted to scream.
“It is no lie.” Malahi surveyed the onlookers. “Camilla fled with her to Celendor, where Kitaryia was raised under a different name.”
“Is Camilla still alive?” a familiar voice asked, and Lydia turned to find Dareena approaching. Her aunt, she realized, but also the woman who had most to lose from Malahi’s revelation.
Malahi’s lips parted, but Dareena interrupted. “You’ve said your piece, Malahi. Allow Lydia, or Kitaryia, as the case may be, to answer for herself.”
Lydia’s hands fisted. She wanted no part of this, least of all talking about her mother’s death in front of a crowd.
“Camilla was like an older sister to me,” Dareena said. “I’ve never once forgiven myself for not being there to protect her.”
“You were just a girl, Dareena,” Lady Calorian murmured. “Do not take that blame.”
“She died.” The words were choked, the admission unleashing a torrent of grief in her stomach.
“Rufina stabbed her, but she managed to escape through the xenthier beneath the palace to Celendrial. My fath—the man who found me raised me as his own until…” She trailed off, shaking her head. “It is a long story.”
Dareena closed the distance between them, her eyes cold and expression unreadable. Killian stepped in her path, and the High Lady’s eyes fixed on him. “If it’s the truth, it would explain your behavior.”
“It’s the truth.” Killian’s voice was low. “But don’t forget that it was Malahi who revealed the truth, not Lydia, so if you have grievances, take them out where they are deserved.”
“Noted,” Dareena said, then shoved him out of her way. “I suspected. Mark or blood, I can’t say, but my instincts put the idea in my heart. Though there is only one way to know for sure.”
Her eyes flicked to Lady Calorian’s. “Do you remember how she screamed when the artist did the work?”
Killian’s mother nodded. “Camilla wanted to wait but Derrek insisted.”
“Insisted, then couldn’t bear to be in the room to hear her weep, so he went hunting with his friends.” Dareena sighed. “Few knew that the work had been done, because the attack happened not long after.”
“What are you talking about?” It struck her then that Dareena’s was the first Mudamorian face she’d ever seen, illustrated in Teriana’s copy of the Treatise, and she remembered how long she’d stared at the portrait.
Dareena turned, tapping at the tattoo of the Falorn falcon on the back of her head. “I held Kitaryia while she was inked.”
She pulled a knife, causing Lydia to jump and Killian to tense. “If you are her, you have the tattoo under your hair.”
Lydia felt paralyzed, because on one hand, proof would give her back the family she’d lost. But on the other…
Malahi stepped closer. “Do not let those two rule, Lydia,” she murmured. “Give the Great Houses another option.”
All she wanted to do was reach for Killian’s hand, but instead Lydia said, “All right.”
Unraveling her braid, she separated the top section and knotted it atop her head, trying not to flinch as Dareena cut away the length at the base of her head, then shaved it close.
Lydia stared at the long black locks falling to the ground at her feet, the hair reminding her of strands of blight against the white stone.
Lydia heard the High Lady’s breath catch as the truth was revealed, but she said nothing until the work was done. Dareena turned Lydia to face her, murmurs of shock running through the onlookers as they saw the falcon inked in black on the base of Lydia’s skull.
“The cat is out of the bag, girl, and there’s no shoving it back in,” Dareena murmured. “So I’ll give you the choice. Claim your legacy or take Killian and run. Run as far as you can and find happiness for as long as you can.”
“There is nowhere to run,” Lydia replied. “And even if there were, I won’t abandon my friends.”
“So be it.” Dareena dropped to one knee, lowering her head. “I swear my service to you, High Lady Kitaryia. My blade is yours.”
That’s not my name! Lydia silently screamed, but she only gave her aunt a tight nod before turning to face Hacken. As she watched, he smiled and pulled Ria’s hand from his arm, dropping it like a dead fish before he said, “This is a sign from the Six.”
His words made Lydia profoundly nervous, because moments ago, he’d been ready to declare himself king.
Rounding on the watching High Lords and Ladies, Hacken said, “Will you also bend your knee to Kitaryia as queen? Will you give Mudamora the ruler it needs to defeat its enemies? For she”—he leveled a finger at Lydia—“is the only healer to save the life of one of the infected.”
Brows furrowed with interest.
“The heir to House Falorn has been returned to us, albeit under a different name than when she left. Yet there can be no denying her heritage. House Falorn is a house of warriors, and I think it fitting that it should be them who lead us to victory against the minions of the Corrupter. Will you kneel and name High Lady Kitaryia Falorn your queen?”
Lydia didn’t believe that these men and women looked at her and saw someone they intended to follow. What they saw was an option who was not Hacken. An option they could potentially control.
But if she had to do this, it would be on her terms.
Hacken lowered to one knee. “In the long tradition of unity between the Houses Falorn and Calorian, I, High Lord Hacken Calorian, swear fealty to High Lady Kitaryia Falorn.”
That’s not my name.
Ten lords and ladies stood behind him on the steps. Ria grimaced, but then curtsied deeply. “House Rowenes swears fealty.”
Three of the men dropped to one knee, swearing the same, while four more shook their heads and stepped back. Leaving only High Lady Helene Torrington.
Lydia stared into the eyes of the young woman who was no friend of hers, and who never would be.
The swing vote that would decide her future, and Lydia remembered the endless callous words that had come from Helene’s lips.
Her utter indifference to the suffering of others.
To have the fate of so many held in the hands of such a woman seemed the purest form of injustice.
Yet rather than stepping back, Helene stepped forward, her arms crossed.
“You still have that ring?” she asked. “The black diamond one you sold to me? The one Killian bought back?”
Lydia could feel it hanging on the silver chain that Killian had taken from Malahi what seemed a lifetime ago, a familiar presence yet one she paid little mind to. “Yes.”
“If you gave it to me as a symbol of goodwill, I might be inclined to vote in your favor.”
Next to her, Lydia felt Killian tense and curse under his breath, but the faintest breath of warmth filled the cold hollow in her chest, because this wasn’t greed.
Wasn’t bribery. High Lady Torrington was giving Lydia one last chance to make this step her own choice rather than something that was forced upon her.
Rufina was coming, marching at the head of an army of the dead, leaving a blackened wasteland in her wake, and someone had to stand against her.
Lydia’s eyes moved over the men and women standing before her.
All of them feared what was to come, but every last one of them was also driven by the desire for power, not the desire to protect the people whose lives stood in the balance.
When Hegeria had told her that she’d be walking a hard road if she accepted her mark, Lydia had never imagined that it would take her here.
But she’d made it through every trial, and she refused to break now.
Drawing the silver chain over her head, Lydia walked up the steps and handed it to Helene.
“I’ll treasure the gift.” The High Lady shoved the ring onto her finger and then dropped into a low curtsey. “House Torrington swears fealty to you, Queen Kitaryia Falorn.”
That’s not my name.
Behind her, Dareena said, “As a representative of the Six, I swear that this vote has been conducted lawfully and that all have acted of their own accord and without compulsion.”
Lydia turned on the steps, refusing to look at Malahi, who had stepped back in the crowd, Agrippa grim-faced at her elbow.
Hacken snatched hold of Lydia’s wrist and raised it into the air. “All hail Queen Kitaryia Falorn, Marked by Hegeria and chosen by the Twelve to lead Mudamora to war!”
“All hail the queen!” everyone shouted, but all Lydia heard was her own voice in her head.
That’s not my name.