A Queen This Fierce and Deadly (Kingdom of Lies)

36 PRISCA

The war was over. Regner was dead. We shuffled back toward our camp, and I stared unseeingly at the remnants of the battlefield.

And the bodies.

For a long time, I simply stood, Lorian’s arms around me as I trembled, grief and horror swamping me until it felt as if they might drag me under.

“We won,” I mumbled against his shirt. “I should be happy.”

He stroked my hair. “You will be. For now, feel however you need to, wildcat.”

Slowly, I eased away from him. My face was wet, and I gazed down the beach to where the others were gathered.

“I need to see Telean. And Tibris.”

Lorian flinched.

And my heart cleaved open.

His eyes met mine, and his face was all I could see.

“Which one?” The words were a hoarse rasp.

“Telean. I’m so sorry, Prisca. She was the reason Regner’s generals were dying from poison. She snuck into their camp with Ameri.”

“You saw her.”

“Yes. She left something for you in Tibris’s healer’s bag.”

My entire body had gone ice-cold. “Demos.”

“I’ll find him.”

Pulling away from Lorian, I made my way up the hill.

“Prisca.”

I wrapped my arms around Tibris and rocked. And then I pulled away.

“I need your healer’s bag.”

With a confused frown, he handed it over.

The parchment had been folded carefully and tucked into one of the leather pockets.

Grief sliced at me with poisonous claws, until it felt as if I was the one who was withering and dying. Lorian stepped inside the tent, Demos behind him.

My brother’s face was white.

And as our eyes met, he seemed to realize it was true. Dropping to the healer’s cot, he buried his head in his hands.

Tibris stared at us. And then he closed his eyes. “Telean.”

My hand shook as I handed the letter to Lorian.

“Will you…”

“Anything, wildcat.”

He sat beside me. And then he read.

Nelayra and Demos,

If you’re reading this, then everything has gone according to my plan.

Getting to know you both was a gift I had never imagined I could have. And the close bond you have formed is everything your mother could have wanted.

Nelayra,

I wasn’t lying on the day of your wedding. I could understand exactly why you chose to use your power in such a dangerous way. Why, in the heat of the moment, when you watched the love of your life die in front of you, you defied the laws of the gods—even knowing there would be repercussions. I was furious. But I don’t blame you. As we discussed, I can see exactly why you made the choice you did.

A love like yours and Lorian’s is rare. You have every right to cling to it with everything in you.

When you told me you saw your mother and grandmother that day—and what they said to you—my decision came to me instantly.

I am old. I am tired. I miss the people I love. Your mother was my best friend. Even after all these years, I find myself constantly searching for your mother’s face in a crowd or reaching for parchment to write to her.

I know Yorin waits for me too. And when I get to see your mother and grandmother again, it will be with the knowledge that I was able to spare you just a little pain. Losing me will be difficult. But I had a long life, and— if everything happened the way I intended—I died while bringing our people home. I can think of no better way to spend my last moments.

I know you, Nelayra. And I know your mind will be lingering on the fact that I didn’t get to see our kingdom rise. That after everything, I never got to step foot in Lyrinore. But I can assure you, I will be watching as you take your throne. And I count myself lucky that I was able to see you become the queen you were meant to be.

Tell Asinia I’m sorry. But she doesn’t need me to teach her—she only thinks she does. I expect her to open her business within the year.

Demos,

I’m sure you feel tricked. I’m sure you are enraged by the fact that you unsuspectingly helped me that day when you found the sanctuary for me. Yes, I bargained with the gods. And no, I have no regrets.

The worst period of my life was knowing you were in that dungeon and I couldn’t get to you. That you had to watch your friends—the people you considered family— slaughtered and never know why you were spared. Occasionally, I wondered if it might have been kinder to have let you go.

And then I met Nelayra.

You are the general our people have needed for so long. But I urge you to remember that you are more than just a general. When peace comes, you must embrace it. When love is within reach, you must grab it with both hands.

It is time to lay down your sword and live. You are more than just that sword. You are also a man. And Asinia won’t wait forever.

I love both of you so much. I hate that I have to leave you. But it is right for the young to outlive the old.

Live a life you will be proud to tell all of us about when we see you again.

—Telean.

Sorrow swallowed me, and I fell down into its dark belly. I wanted to think of Telean in a better place. A place where her bones didn’t ache and her joints weren’t stiff each morning. A place where she was with my mother and grandmother—and finally, finally with the man she loved.

One day soon, I would be able to think of my aunt that way and smile. But now…

All I could think was that it was horrifyingly unfair and Telean should be here and she would never get to see our homeland and how dare she leave me and Demos when we had barely found her and gods, it hurt to breathe.

We’d never enjoyed peace with her. Never spent long hours sitting and talking together, all three of us, about subjects that weren’t related to war and death.

And now we never would.

That night, I was crowned beneath the stars in a kingdom that wasn’t my own. But the elders had left instructions. Apparently, they’d felt it necessary to ensure my role as queen was immediately formalized.

Even after all of our disagreements, I mourned the fact that they wouldn’t get to see our people return home. And selfishly, I wished they would be around to help me form my court. To help our people settle into their kingdom.

Lorian would be crowned a week from now. The advisers felt that our people would enjoy an excuse to celebrate the end of the war and the start of a new life for all of us.

My grandmother had worn this crown. My mother would have worn it if Regner hadn’t invaded. Several people had gasped at the sight of it, and I knew it was a glorious example of our kingdom’s exquisite craftsmanship and rich history.

Set with jewels, the crown was cold and heavy. I much preferred the diadem Lorian had given me. But I understood the symbol for what it was. A promise that I understood the true weight of this crown. And that I would bear it for my people.

So, I bowed my head, repeated the vows that Blynth read, and promised to love and protect my kingdom.

And as soon as it was done, the crown was safely tucked away while we turned our attention to the dead and wounded.

Asinia’s friend Cryton hadn’t made it. I’d never met him, but she’d sat next to his body and wept, Demos by her side.

Tibris’s magic was so drained, he could no longer heal even the tiniest cut. Herne had forced him to rest, and I’d carefully hidden a smile as my healer brother—who was so obsessed with taking care of others—was dragged into a tent, a sleep tonic poured down his throat.

“I suppose you’re furious,” Herne said when he stepped out of the tent.

“Furious? No. You just proved you’re perfect for my brother. Welcome to the family.”

He stared at me, clearly dazed, and I took pity on him. “You should rest too.”

With a nod, he disappeared into his tent.

I turned to look for Lorian, nodding to Galon as he walked past. We’d only been separated for a few minutes, but after today, I wanted him by my side.

But…

Zathrian sat at the edge of camp, ignored by everyone. Our eyes met, and he got to his feet, walking toward me.

Galon changed his direction, stalking our way.

I sighed. “He’s not going to hurt me.”

“You’re tired. We’re all fucking tired,” Galon muttered. “He should be chained up somewhere.”

Zathrian ignored him, which was impressive given how much threat Galon exuded.

“Jorvik,” Zathrian said to me. “He’s dead, isn’t he?”

I glanced at Galon. “Go away.”

He narrowed his eyes, clearly having some internal deliberation. With a low oath, he turned and moved back toward one of the fires.

I turned my attention back to Zathrian. “Yes,” I said. “Daharak told me the ship was struck by one of Regner’s and didn’t have a chance.”

Grief darkened his eyes. Clearly, Jorvik had been important to him in some way. “I’m sorry.”

“It was his idea to get that close to you.” Zathrian’s voice was low. “I told him it was stupid, but he thought it might rattle you enough to make you make a mistake. Instead, it just made you more determined. Didn’t it?”

“Yes.”

We were quiet for a moment, and the sounds of the waves in the distance made my eyes heavy-lidded.

“I’ve been wondering something,” I murmured.

“So have I. I’ll answer your question, if you answer mine.”

“Deal.”

“Eadric,” I said. “When he tortured us, it seemed… personal. Like he hated me.”

“He did. His father was in love with your mother. When she met your father, it was clear she was never going to be able to love Eadric’s father. Of course, Eadric was born years later, but his father’s bitterness remained. He became friends with my father.”

I could imagine both boys learning to hate my family as they grew up. It didn’t excuse anything they had done, but…it still hurt to imagine the people they might have been without that hate.

“Thank you for telling me.”

Zathrian just nodded. And his gaze slid in the direction of the water, as if he couldn’t quite bear to look at me when he asked his question.

“I heard you saw our grandmother when you turned back time.”

There was nothing malicious in his question. No, he just sounded…tired.

“I did.”

He kept his gaze fixed on the darkness, his voice carefully neutral. “Do you… Do you think perhaps one day she could be proud of me? Even after everything I’ve done?”

My eyes burned. “I heard her voice that day when we fought in your arena. She was screaming, completely enraged. She didn’t want you dead. Likely because she knew you would use your power to help us. She could see good in you, Zathrian. I don’t know if that means anything to you…”

He still didn’t look at me. But the corner of his mouth tipped up. “It means enough,” he said.

An inconvenience, I’d called him. A loose end. I’d said he had no future in our kingdom, and I’d seen how my words had cut at him even as he tried to hide it.

“There’s a place for you in Lyrinore. If you want it.”

Zathrian sliced a glare in my direction. After a long moment, his eyes widened. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Because I killed your mate. Your husband. Because Eadric killed your friend. Because I would have happily killed you. Because I’m a threat to your throne.”

A deadly snarl cut through the night. Zathrian flinched.

I just sighed. “Lorian—”

“Tell her again about how you’re a threat,” he crooned, leaning over my shoulder.

I glanced toward the fire. Galon stared stubbornly back at me.

Sighing again, I turned back to the posturing males. I elbowed Lorian in the gut, and my cousin gaped at the action.

“You said you would have happily killed me,” I said to Zathrian. “Do you still feel the same?”

“No. You don’t have to believe me. But no.”

“Then the offer stands. But there would be rules in place.” This was, after all, the same man who had killed an innocent man simply for watching him under our orders. The same man who would have murdered everyone I loved. One day, I might be able to forgive. But I would never forget.

“A blood vow,” I said.

Lorian radiated approval.

Zathrian just stared at me, as if he still couldn’t understand.

“Let me know your decision before we leave tomorrow,” I said. Taking Lorian by the hand, I pulled him away.

“That crown looked good on you, by the way, wildcat,” Lorian murmured in my ear. Ah. A change of subject so I would overlook his unhinged behavior.

Fine.

“You’ve got a matching one waiting in the capital,” I said. “So don’t feel too smug.”

He looked pained by that, but he kissed my cheek. “Rythos wants to talk to you. And then you should get some sleep.”

The Arslan had wasted no time taking their dead and returning home. Madinia had told us about how she and Rythos had been caught attempting to escape with Miric— and the fleet. For reasons they still couldn’t understand, Brevan had defied his father and chosen to fight with us.

“But if he attempts to make Rythos fulfill that bargain, I’ll castrate him,” Madinia had muttered.

Rythos was waiting near the water, his hands in his pockets. He offered me a faint smile when I approached, but his expression was tight.

“Brevan…he’d decided I was to return to the island in exchange for the Arslan ships, but for some reason, he changed his mind.”

“That was the bargain Madinia was talking about.”

He nodded. “I can never return to Quorith. I don’t want to. But…there’s something I have to tell you.”

I waited, and he sighed. “I did what I’d sworn I would never do. I used my power on my father’s council.”

It was clear from the expression on his face that he didn’t need soft assurances.

“Would you ever use that power on my council?”

He reared back. “Of course not. If you believe I would—”

“I don’t. But I need you to believe it too. Without the Arslan, there’s a good chance we would have lost this war.” I gestured out across the sea toward the hybrid kingdom. “Regner would have invaded once more, and this time, he would have killed any hybrids who remained. Your power is both beautiful and terrible. I’m sorry you had to use it. But I’m not sorry you did.”

He let out a shaky breath. After a long moment, he attempted a smile. “I think I traumatized Madinia.”

I laughed. “A little fear is probably good for her.”

“She wielded that grimoire and gave humans their power back,” Rythos said.

“That’s not all she did,” a hoarse voice said.

I turned, my eyes meeting dark brown. Finley.

The web had disappeared from his face. His eyes were slightly shadowed but alert.

It was bittersweet. I could see that in the way Rythos stared at the empty place on Finley’s temple where the web had been. If Cavis had lived…

He would be free now. His life would be his own.

“All of them?” Rythos asked.

Finley nodded. “All of the spiders I’ve seen. Your brother let us go,” he told me. “But I want to apologize.”

He’d been a quiet boy when I’d last seen him. Now, he seemed like he’d aged a decade overnight.

“I don’t want your apology.”

He flinched and I sighed. “Because there’s nothing to apologize for. Now, we have to find a way to move on. To make the best of the lives that were spared.” I clasped the hourglass hanging around my neck. “And to cherish every moment.”