Carved at the very top—perhaps in bone considering the white material it was made from—was the head of a fox.
Kestrel took the dagger into her hands.
“Ah, I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. That one belonged to your mother many, many years ago.”
“Really?”
Kestrel clutched the weapon tighter, as if she was suddenly worried it would wink out of existence. There were so few remnants left of her mother, so few markings of her time in this realm aside from the dark curse that seemed to loom over people’s lives. But her mother’s ring and now this dagger? Those weren’t part of the curse. They came from a time before, a time when her mother was more than a villain in this realm’s history books.
“It’s yours then,” the queen said, and Kestrel’s watery eyes flicked up to her, searching for any signs of deception or any strings attached, because surely she was lying. “Consider it a gift.”
Kestrel had to swallow through a lifetime of pain to utter a weak, “Thank you.”
“Of course, my darling,” the queen said, and with a flick of that dainty yet powerful wrist, she announced, “And now, a demonstration.”
Kestrel could still hardly see through her tears, hardly breathe through the pain cracking her chest as Queen Signe stepped around to the end of the altar. As Kestrel wiped at her eyes, vision clearing, she noticed the small cage in front of thequeen with a rabbit inside. The creature’s calm demeanor shifted as the queen unlatched its cage.
Kestrel was just starting to drag herself out of her pity and heartbreak as the queen grabbed the rabbit by its ears and held it out before her. The poor thing screeched and writhed.
“Wait, what are you doing?” Kestrel’s voice shook. “You’re hurting it! Stop it!”
Before Kestrel could so much as move, Queen Signe had a knife in her other hand, and she plunged it into the rabbit’s chest.
Kestrel couldn’t distinguish between her cries or the rabbit’s. They twisted in the air with the stench of blood, wringing the contents in her stomach until they came burbling up.
Kestrel retched right there, all over the rest of the weapons, the top of the altar. She thought about the rest of the animals in the room with them—was the queen expecting her to kill them too? They didn’t deserve this. They were just innocent?—
And then with dread, a new realization settled over her.
The rabbit could’ve been an Animali.
A person.
It could’ve been Micah’s long-lost childhood friend.
Or anyone, really. Someone with a whole life they had been waiting to return to after this curse had been lifted.
Her stomach bunched again, and Kestrel was ready to vomit what little remained left inside, when the queen began dragging the knife downward, the rabbit’s flesh tearing as its cries intensified.
Kestrel could no longer watch. No longer listen.
She shielded her face with her empty hand, only to find her face wet and hot, but not with tears. She pulled her hand away. Blood streaked her fingers. The blood of an innocent. Of a life she hadfailed.
Horror-struck, Kestrel just stared at the blood coating her palm, almost not noticing Signe’s mutterings.
“Sky-Blessed, I beseech you. Show this lost daughter your power. Show her your might. Guide her so that she may save us all.”
That’s what this was for. For magic. For the so-called Sky-Blessed?
Kestrel had seen Thom pray to them dozens of times, and not once had he ever evoked such bloodshed, such unnecessary torture and pain.
Kestrel lowered her hand, taking in the full sight of her aunt, her only living family. She had never regretted leaving her tower more.
The queen still held the rabbit outward. The poor thing had stopped twitching, stopped breathing. Its tan fur was now stained red, its organs—Kestrel didn’t look. She focused her fiery gaze past the creature and to its deranged murderer. The queen was smiling, grinning up at the ceiling as if the Sky-Blessed themselves were about to soar down and kiss her atop her head.
There was such fervent belief reflected in those black eyes, that Kestrel, too, glanced up toward the ceiling once or twice, just to check.
Nothing but the flickering candlelight danced upon the ceiling though.
