Page 53

Whatever it is, it can’t be good.

The king grins maliciously as he stands on the makeshift dais, holding up his hands, signaling for the revelers to be silent.

“What’s going on?” Laisren asks as the Cadre and Emyr come to stand around me.

“He said it’s a surprise,” I murmur.

“For who?” Riordan asks.

“This isn’t typically a tradition for these events,” Emyr says.

I release a shuddering breath. “He said it’s for me,” I reply.

Emyr’s silhouette grows larger beside me, if that is even possible.

He truly is quite possessive, isn’t he? I murmur.

Only because he cares for your safety, Saoirse replies.

Then the king’s dulcet voice carries over the expanse, interrupting our conversation.

“Thank you all for joining the Masquerade of Shadows this evening,” he yells.

“This celebration is in honor of a very special guest, my darling, Maeva Cale—the one prophesied to bring forth the reign of the Na Fìrèin.”

The crowd erupts in applause, as the king extends a hand in my direction. The air suddenly feels colder than it has this entire evening, and dread settles into my stomach.

“I don’t like this, Emyr,” Virgil says.

“Neither do I,” he replies.

“In honor of Maeva joining our court,” the king continues, “I’ve arranged a gift for her and for all of you, my beloved supporters.”

The crowd erupts into shouts, roars, and wails of excitement. The king’s face twists into something akin to amusement, but it’s distorted by the wicked gleam in his eyes.

He whistles, and Domhnall appears beside him with a woman with short dark hair and olive skin. She’s bound and gagged. Blood and dark welts cover her body. She looks thin—too thin. The woman’s chest moves rapidly as she attempts to breathe.

What did he do to her?

“This woman has been found guilty of treason for conspiring with the Friotaíocht—a band of rebels that plan to usurp this beloved empire I’ve built,” the king sneers.

Boos echo as Domhnall removes the gag from her mouth, her eyes are frantic—searching for a means of escape. Something in her features reminds me of…

I shake my head in disbelief. “No,” I whisper, “it can’t be.”

The Cadre press their bodies a little closer to mine.

Virgil’s body is rigid beside me. “Do you know her?” he whispers.

I swallow thickly. “Yes,” I reply.

“Who is she?” Laisren growls under his breath .

I open my mouth to speak just as the woman’s eyes catch on mine and recognition lights her features. The sting of tears prick my eyes as I watch her struggle against Domhnall.

“Her name is Aria,” I say quietly. “She’s my sister Cara’s friend, and Gawain’s sister. I only met her once, but I-I didn’t know?—”

“Therefore,” King Tiernan’s voice rings out, “her punishment is death.”

“No,” I say under my breath. My hands clench my dress to keep from trembling, the sound of my heart roars in my ears as the crowd cheers.

My sister’s friend is a rebel, and she’s going to die.

I have to stop this.

This isn’t right.

What if she isn’t a rebel, and they’ve falsely accused her?

Where’s the justice in this?

My starlight stirs within my body, ready to make a scene, when Saoirse’s terrifying growl stops me.

No! You can’t save her, Maeva! Saoirse yells.

Why? I ask sadly.

This is what he wants. He wants you to stop it with your starlight. If you do, this event gives him enough witnesses to lock you away forever as a threat to the crown of Zulgalros and Malvoria, Saoirse growls. He’s baiting you.

But she’s going to die, Saoirse, I cry. Cara would want me to save her.

Cara isn’t here anymore, my dear. You’ll have vengeance one day for what’s happening here, but it can’t be tonight. Stand down, Maeva… please, Saoirse begs.

Virgil grabs my hand and squeezes, pulling me out of my spiraling thoughts.

“You can’t cry here,” Virgil commands. “Do you hear me? Don’t cry—not in front of him or any of these twits. They can’t see you break.”

I nod slightly, trying my hardest to heed his advice.

Virgil releases my hand just as the king’s gaze travels to where I stand.

The arrogant prick has the audacity to wink at me, even though I’m sure my features only portray how much I truly hate him.

I won’t kneel or beg before a king that doesn’t deserve my fealty, even if I inwardly wish to, for Aria’s sake.

I’ll never forget the kindness she bestowed upon me in those first moments on my birthday that seems like a lifetime ago.

With a sigh, the king’s ring and eyes faintly glow. “High General,” he calls out, “abandon your princely duties for a moment as you join us up here.”

Every muscle in Emyr’s body shakes as it tries to fight against the command.

Sweat forms on his brow as he attempts to ignore it, but against his will, he moves through the crowd.

His steps are more rigid than usual, but he never allows his features to falter from the cool mask of indifference.

His shoulders are squared back as his fists are held at his side, standing beside his father.

“Grab her,” King Tiernan commands.

Aria screams and fights against Domhnall’s hold, but it’s no use as the creature’s claws bury themselves deeper within her skin. Emyr’s shadows quickly spiral out from his body, latching around her. Only when his hold is secure, and Aria can no longer wriggle free, does Domhnall release her.

“This evening, you’ll answer for your crimes,” the king says to Aria.

Aria spits in his face. “The Na Fìrèin will rise,” she yells, a malicious glint to her features.

Turning her face to the crowd, she finds me once more and a weak smile crosses her lips.

“Hail the Na Fìrèin! The chosen one’s reign shall prosper and bring an end to this darkness,” she yells.

A chorus of boos erupt from the crowd, but Aria doesn’t waver, even as tears trail down her cheeks.

Wiping the spit from his skin, King Tiernan turns to Emyr. “Kill her,” he yells.

Emyr’s eyes meet mine for a split second, sadness and regret coursing through them.

I try to offer an apologetic smile, because I know he doesn’t have a choice.

“It’s okay,” I mouth. Emyr winces as he twists the shadows tighter around Aria’s body.

Her screams of pain fill the skies, which the creatures delight in .

Anger burns heavily in my chest for him, for Aria, and all of Celestae, for being put under the reign of such wickedness.

“Maeva, don’t watch,” Virgil says quietly, but it’s too late as the loud crack of Aria’s neck reverberates around the garden.

She no longer screams, and her body goes limp.

The crowd cheers wildly as Emyr’s shadows uncoil from around her, dropping her body on the dais.

Finally, King Tiernan’s ring and eyes dim.

“Now, my beastly companions,” Tiernan says, addressing the crowd. “It’s been some time since you’ve had a true feast. Enjoy!”

The orcs and minotaurs that were so calm moments ago are now in a frenzy as they push their way to the wooden dais.

“We need to get her out of here,” Virgil yells to Laisren and Riordan above the noise.

I’m frozen as the Cadre pulls me away from the torment, throwing anyone that attempts to touch me across the garden.

I know I should make it easier for them by moving my body, but my eyes won’t leave the broken High General, who’s looking at the ground before him—never meeting my gaze.

The once kind boy became the monster of his father’s dreams, Saoirse says sadly. The boy grew into a man believing he’s the demon his father forced him to become, leaving that once kind boy to be a distant memory.

Then, I’ll make sure he remembers, I cry, if it’s the very last thing I do.

A promise that I plan to keep until my last breath.

I don’t cry as we walk through the palace or even in the corridors. I don’t break when the Cadre leaves me in my chambers to rest. It’s only when I’m buried deep within the covers on the bed that I allow myself to mourn.

Every emotion continues to flow until I fall asleep, and the nightmares overtake me.