“I wouldn’t,” someone somewhere behind Miri said. “Not unless you want to lose three more.”
The king’s gaze shot to the man, and though Miri couldn’t see him, she knew it was Terric. He had the sorcerers hostage beneath his blade. It was why the king had not yet acted, why no magic tore through the room. If he killed Miri or Cass, he would lose as many sorcerers as Terric and his men held. Yet Terric could not move on the king without Miri and Cass losing their lives.
She couldn’t figure out what Nicholas was waiting for, but she could see that he was buying time. The king had a card up his sleeve, maybe more men or more sorcerers or something worse Miri had not yet considered. Bloodsworn could not be harmed by magic, but they could still be killed.
The door behind the throne opened, and two more figures walked in. Prince Augustus had grown tall, his features as smooth and square as his father’s. His dark eyes skirted Miri and Cass, as if the entire ordeal was beneath him. Miri had never wanted a prince dead more in her life.
Her gaze fell back to Nicholas, but the corner of his mouth was pinched in something of a tell. He thought he’d won, yet Miri could not see how. Prince Augustus stopped beside the throne, and beside him stepped a tall woman who curtsied briefly to the king. She faced forward, her golden eyes trailing over the room.
Miri’s chest seized, her mind screaming that she had to be wrong. The woman wore a long velvet gown, her hair hidden beneath a headdress that draped her bare shoulders and was woven with red ribbons and jewels. She was older, the soft lines of childhood leaving not a single trace. Her skin was smooth and powdered, not at all the visage Miri had imagined. But there was no denying her sister’s face or the familiar expression of both contempt for a prisoner and interest for how the crime would be dealt with. Miri’s mouth fell open to speak, but she could not find words.
Lettie stared at her for several moments, and Miri remembered her sister had thought her dead. She wanted to scream at her, to make her see, but Miri’s voice would still not come. Then the perfect brow pinched above her sister’s eyes, the first hint of recognition coming slowly to her precise features, before it dawned all at once. “Myrina.” The word seemed to fall unintentionally from Lettie’s mouth, and Miri couldn’t make out the emotion that drove it.
Miri’s gaze flicked from her sister to the king. His half smile mocked the exchange. It seemed to say that Miri had mistaken everything. Miri’s eyes shot back to Lettie. “I thought you were locked in a cell, all these years.” Miri swallowed, her breath shallow. “Captive.”
Lettie barked a laugh, and the sound sent ice through Miri’s veins. She had been shocked, surely, but Lettie did not seem ill at ease that Miri had been shoved to the floor before them, bound and at the sword of a kingsman. Lettie gestured at the throne room they’d spent so many days in as children. “Captive?” Her tone was withering. “I live in the throes of luxury. King Nicholas has been nothing but faithful to my wishes.” She shook her head, glancing at the man before her gaze came back to Miri. “The only reason I’m trapped in this keep is because of the threats to my life and my safety. If not for the queensguard wanting me dead, I could leave.” She frowned. “You know well I never cared much for travel, but there are so many who still wish me murdered. To end the line. Honestly, Myrina, why go among the rabble at all? Here, I am treated like a queen.”
Miri stared at her, the stranger who was no stranger at all. Nothing she said made sense, not the way she spoke or how her hand floated to brush against Augustus’s. Nicholas watched, as if the scene were somehow pleasant, and Lettie’s words repeated in Miri’s head. She thought the queensguard wanted her dead. Her sister, her own blood, had been fooled by a traitorous king. He’d convinced her that she could not leave the keep for her safety and that at his son’s side, she would be protected and treated like a queen. Miri’s voice came as strong and insolent as when they’d fought as children. “Youarea queen, Leticia. You are the daughter of the Lion and the last of our blood. You will rule.”
“I’ll let you make the order, dear princess.” Nicholas’s voice was low, the words for Lettie nearly sounding kind. “She is your sister, after all.”
“Treason?” Miri spat, aware that the entire charade was the king’s way of buying time. She could not bring herself to stay silent, though, even if Cass and the others had.
Fury boiled through her, but Nicholas only directed his gaze toward Lettie. “It is unfortunate she’s chosen to ally with the men who want you dead.”
“They are queensguard,” Miri said. “They are sworn toprotectyou.”
Lettie scoffed, her gaze trailing over Cass. “You brought a bloodsworn into this throne room, Myrina? After what they have done? And have the nerve to say I am his queen?” Her shoulders somehow became straighter. “If what you say is true, then his loyalty is to me. He owes nothing at all to you.” Lettie glanced at Cass. “Kill her.”
There was a moment of silence, then she shouted toward the queensguard and the bloodsworn at the back of the room. “Drop your weapons. Let the sorcerers go!”
Miri felt a moment of panic, that Lettie was right, that the queen’s word was law. But Lettie was not truly queen yet, not until her name day. Then it would be true.
“Do you see, sister?” Lettie hissed. “They do not follow my command. They never have.”
Lettie would not be queen. Nicholas would never let her. But if Cass and the others freed her, she could in a matter of weeks claim her throne. They would be under Lettie’s command, whether they agreed with her orders or not. Whether she believed she’d been misled for years, that she was wrong about everything. It would be Cass’s duty to follow her word, the same for all of the queensguard and for Miri—except they had sworn a vow and made a promise to a greater queen.
“Our mother is dead, Leticia. At this man’s hand.” Miri’s voice rang like steel through the room, her target clear. Nicholas had orchestrated the death of their mother, betrayed the bonds between sorcerer and queen, and was well on his way to destroying the realm.
Lettie’s brow pinched. “No, sister. Rebels killed our queen, just like the men you’ve brought with you here. Nicholas saved me and rescued me from the same fate.” Her tone saidor worse, but Miri did not argue details. Nicholas’s hand had twitched more than once in the moments that had passed. Miri was out of time. She needed Lettie to see.
She tried to shift forward, fighting the grip that held her in place and struggling with her gradually loosening bonds. “They deceived you, Lettie. Killed our mother, the last queen, and freed the sorcerers from her bonds. What do you think they will do to you after the festival of moons, on your name day?”
Lettie’s head gave a small, irritated shake. “You know this. The entire kingdom knows this.” Her gaze shot to Nicholas, somewhere between apologetic and incredulous. “I’ll be presented at the prince’s side as future queen.”
Miri felt bile rise in her throat. Her sister planned to let Nicholas continue his rule, as if she and Augustus would become king and queen upon his death. As if Lettie would have any power. As if she would live that long. Gods, she thought they would be celebrating her name day with a wedding announcement.
“No,” Miri said, emotion nearly choking her. “That’s not it at all. They’ve rounded up the sympathizers to kill on the square. They’re in cells just as we speak.” Henry was there too. Henry had been locked up beneath Lettie’s nose, accused of treason by a man who was no king at all. Miri’s tone went hard, her patience gone. “Lettie, they plan to kill you. Before you bear the blood of a queen.”
Lettie’s breath came out in a huff, a broken laugh, but the confidence she had worn was suddenly thin. Her cheeks colored just the slightest bit, but she did not look at the king or his son. She did not let on that she believed their deception. Lettie was not going to relent before it was too late.
“I watched our mother die,” Miri said in a whisper. “I watched these men murder her, watched as her blood boiled from her own body at the hands of the sorcerers.”
“No,” Lettie said. “That’s not true.” Her voice was broken, evidence of the panic that rose in her, but she had apparently never conquered her baser instincts. “Do it,” she ordered the kingsman beside Myrina. “Kill her now.” Lettie stepped forward, her graceful fingers trembling at the end of her slender arms. “By my order!”
Miri closed her eyes and drew in a shaky breath, heartsick. She had lost her sister in a single command. After all they’d been through, she’d lost her to a king who was no more than a treacherous lord. But no, she remembered, Lettie had not been lost. She’d been stolen.
Anger rose in Miri swift and hot, and she bit down hard, jerking her bonds to reach beneath her jacket to the well-worn hem and her mother’s locket. She ripped the metal free, the tearing sound loud in the open space, and spread her palm for Lettie to see. “Tell me, sister,” Miri hissed, “if this is my lie, then how is it that I hold her locket? How could I have pulled it from her neck after she burned?”
