Page 27

Judgment

A purple glow unexpectedly lights up the night, the faces all around us, and the arch overhead spanning the narrow canyon where we are. Those standing closest to Tabra step away, watching her warily.

My sister isn’t doing this on purpose. I know this for a fact, because her face takes on a mix of panic and apology. She’s upset, and it’s setting off her power.

Tabra gasps, then wobbles on her feet before sitting down hard.

I’m across to where she stands in a heartbeat, dropping to my knees in front of her. Cupping her hands between mine, I give her a squeeze. She’s trembling so hard, trying to contain her power, that I’m surprised she’s not causing the rock she’s sitting on to crack.

“Look at me,” I say.

She doesn’t take her gaze off her hands, though, shaking her head over and over. I try to think of anything that might distract her. “Tell me one good thing and one bad thing.”

It doesn’t help. “I can’t stop it,” she says. “I can’t stop it, Meren.”

I thought her time with Scoria teaching her had helped this. But knowing how emotion sets me off now that I can tap Eidolon’s power, maybe Enfernae struggle with this more than Hylorae.

“Look at me, Sissy.” I’m harder with her now, harsher, trying to snap her out of it.

Slowly, almost as though she’s having to pry her eyes from the glow of her hands, she drags her gaze up to mine.

“Don’t fight it. Accept it,” I tell her. “Accept the gift. It’s a blessing. It’s in your blood and part of you. Accept it, then it will listen to you.”

Her brows snap together so hard they meet in the middle. “The Shadows don’t—”

I grip her hands harder. “ They aren’t part of my power. Reven’s either. They’re a bastardization of what Eidolon has done to himself and something foisted on me against my will. That’s different.”

“Different,” she whispers more to herself than me. “Accept the power. Accept the power.” She repeats the words over and over like she’s willing herself to believe them.

The glow starts to dim and the light in her eyes shifts from subdued panic to calm to hope until her power is absorbed back into her and under control once more.

After a second, Tabra nods. “I think I understand now.”

I hope so. I had years to learn, but we need my sister to master her control faster.

She looks beyond me to where Horus waits for my judgment. “What will you do with him?” she asks me. Deliberately. She is letting everyone know that as queens we will always stand together. Even in judgment. Even if she hates my decision.

I lean closer and put my forehead to hers.

Cainis steps up. “We should discuss his punishment—”

He cuts off at the cold look I shoot him.

“His sister, Lana, will be given a home among the Cainis Zariphate, and treated with kindness,” I announce.

Cainis’s hand goes to the weapon at his side. “You dare to—”

“Daring has nothing to do with it,” I snap. “I am your queen.”

I ignore the murmuring that circles the gathering and continue my pronouncement. “Horus will be bound and guarded until after we take back Oaesys. He will have no contact with anyone but his guards during that time. As far as we are concerned…” This is going to hurt. “…he is dead to us.”

Tziah makes another tiny noise of distress, and I force myself not to look at her. I have to do this. He brought this on himself.

“Once we have Oaesys, his guards will take him to the Singing Dunes, strip him of all belongings, and exile him.”

“Meren—”

I stare Cain down, unyielding.

After a second, he looks away. Pella, too. Tziah goes quiet, even as tears streak down her cheeks. But it’s the way Vos snaps his gaze to me, eyes narrowed as if I’m the threat, that makes me pause.

“Let me take his life,” Bene offers. “He will not suffer. His death will be quick.”

No. This is the right punishment. I know it is, even if they can’t see it.

I am doing to Horus what his zariph did to him when he was a younger man for trying to protect his sister, a situation that Reven once saved him from. It is considered the worst possible penance for a Wanderer. It’s not just possible death, it’s the total and utter loss of their community. His betrayal of the man who saved him—and the resulting consequences for so many others—demands that. The people here today will respect it.

Even in the middle of being so horribly angry and crushed that part of me wants to hurt him back, there’s still a small part that…doesn’t want this.

I mentally shake myself. I am giving him the only chance to live that I know how to—it’s possible to survive the desert, though the chances are so slim as to be laughable. But he already did it once. I’m counting on that, actually. The only other option is the immediate death that Bene is offering.

I owe him my life on so many occasions. And he was a friend, even if a false friend. This is the sole shard of mercy I can offer him.

“I understand,” Horus says.

Does he? I thought I knew his face, but the features are foreign to me now.

“I’ll take him,” Hakan says.

Horus’s head lowers even more when Hakan stands beside him.

Knowing I will never see him again, I turn away, gritting back tears, as Hakan and two other Wanderers lead Horus away. He doesn’t fight, doesn’t protest. Not even when Lana calls his name and follows after.

Some pain goes too deep to feel right away. I know this is going to barrel through me any second. I need to be not here when that happens.

“Meren,” Cain whispers. “Are you sure?”

Finally, I glance at Reven, but he’s giving me nothing. No emotion in the blankness of his features, of his posture.

The words don’t want to come, but I make them. “I’m sure.”