15. Mercy
15
MERCY
E ven from across the room, my aim is perfect. My trusted dagger, which I refused to take off even here, sinks into Boris Vorovsky’s eye like warm butter. I can feel death’s cold embrace wrap itself around his body even before he has time to collapse to the floor.
I might have not known which family was next in line, but one thing I did know was who would be sacrificed. I felt the call as soon as I walked into the grand hall. Death swam around my head, whispering the fate of the Vorovsky cousin, like it had done my entire life.
His death didn’t need to be by my hand—I answer the call as I please—but Boris’ fate was as inevitable as the Lottery.
However, the sacrifice needed to be mine. I was ready to betray whichever family was chosen next, the only thing that mattered was gaining control of Pravitia for myself. It just so happened that the gods chose the most execrable of us all.
Wolfgang whips around to find me smirking. His blue-gray eyes narrow into slits. His naked chest rising quickly, breathing hard like a bull at an inane rodeo.
For a long loaded beat, everyone is frozen in place.
Until Wolfgang breaks the spell.
“You bitch !” he growls, charging toward me with surprising speed until he lunges forward and tackles me to the ground.
Even with the wind knocked out of me, I manage to fight back while Wolfgang hisses like an aggrieved street cat as he tries to wrap his hand around my neck. Curses fly out from his lips but they barely register as I struggle to wrestle him off me, my nails leaving scratch marks on his cheek and neck.
The scuffle doesn’t last long until Wolfgang is finally dragged off me, but not before he grabs a handful of my hair pulling me up with him. “Bonafide ape, let go of me!” I shout while I try to get out of his grasp.
The Oracle’s voice rises high up above the commotion. “Cease your childish squabbles immediately .” Her tone is measured but the warning is unmistakable.
Once again, everyone freezes. Wolfgang releases my hair from his grasp as we both look over to where the Oracle is standing.
Her lips are pinched, hands clasped tightly together in front of her while her disapproving glare surveys the crowd. “Everyone out except the six servants.” There's a small ripple of protest coming mostly from the Vainglory family. The Oracle’s stern gaze slices to their faction. “I said out .”
While we wait for everyone to file out, I distance myself from Wolfgang. My scratch marks, red and swollen on his left cheek, send a victorious thrill through my veins.
Pretending that his seething glare isn’t sizzling through me, I rake my fingers through my hair and straighten my white dress. I ignore any Crèvecoeur looking my way—uninterested in the judgment of distant family members who never visit.
When the heavy double doors have closed, and we’re left standing in a semi-circle around the Oracle, it’s Aleksandr who speaks first. “What in all six gods was that ?”
“Count your fucking days, Crèvecoeur,” Wolfgang adds with a hiss, hands in tight fists, his knuckles turning white.
I scoff, unperturbed. “You can’t touch me, Vainglory. I would have killed you long ago if that was the case.”
The ruling families don’t follow many laws but even this one has us all staying in line. Called damnatio memoriae or damnation of memory, the six heirs are forbidden to kill each other. The disgraced servant, along with the entire family, is wiped out and eliminated from all records if this law is broken.
Even I’m not daring enough to tempt the wrath of our gods to that extent.
“Quiet,” the Oracle says somberly.
I snap my mouth shut and wait for her to speak again.
Gemini, Belladonna, and Constantine haven't said a word, but by the look on their faces I can tell they’re as taken aback by my actions as Wolfgang and Aleksandr.
“These are unprecedented events.” Her blue gaze slides slowly to mine. “No one has ever been asinine enough to sully the ritual in this manner,” the Oracle says, her jaw clenching again and again.
“The sacrifice is the only thing the gods truly care about,” I say, cutting through the accusatory silence. “The power is rightfully mine.”
“They chose me ,” Wolfgang spits, taking a step toward the Oracle.
“Please,” I throw back, “because of a silly flying coin?”
Wolfgang’s mouth opens on a fresh new insult, but we’re both silenced by the Oracle before I have the honor of hearing it.
“ Enough ,” she says with aggravation, looking at Wolfgang and me. “You both must be entirely moronic to believe that you’d have the last word.” She closes her eyes. “The gods will decide.”
I cross my arms, pretending this is a mere annoyance, but my heart is slamming against my chest. Six pairs of eyes lock on the Oracle while we wait for her verdict. The flames lighting the hall begin to flicker, and the air around us shifts into something more … dense.
My coin, now on the ground, begins to vibrate before flying into the Oracle’s open palm.
Finally, her eyes fly open.
“You shall rule together,” she declares, her voice slightly disembodied.
Startled, I take a step back. Wolfgang lets out a livid shriek and flies into another fit of rage, attempting to lunge for me again, but Aleksandr grabs him by the shoulder, pulling him back hard. He whispers in Wolfgang’s ear, both of them glaring at me, and whatever he says seems to calm his friend down.
It’s over in a second, and I turn to the Oracle, eyes pleading. “But?—”
There have never been co-rulers in the history of Pravitia … I never even considered the possibility. I curse at my prideful short-mindedness.
“The matter is settled.” Her gaze is threatening. “You dare tempt fate? Then accept the consequences,” she says, expression hardening. “It could have been far worse, Crèvecoeur.” Pointing to the far corner of the room, she adds, “The new rulers will dispose of the sacrifice. The rest of you, follow me out.”
My eyes flick to Wolfgang who is still seething, and I stomp across the cavern to the corpse before we’re completely left alone, pulling my dagger out of Boris’ face. Keeping an eye on Wolfgang, I wipe the blade with the hem of my dress, the blood seeping into the white threads.
I refasten the dagger to my thigh but not before ripping a slit in the dress in case Wolfgang plans on doing anything rash and I need quick access to my weapon.
“Let’s get this over with,” I say, referring to the body at my feet.
Wolfgang is still standing in the middle of the platform, arms crossed, chin high. He doesn’t deign to look at me when he replies, “You wanted this so badly.” His lips curl in disgust. “You deal with it.”
I puff out an irritated breath but don’t bother arguing. The less I interact with him, the better. I crane my neck to where the Oracle pointed. It appears to be a large stony well of some kind.
Lifting the cadaver’s feet, I wedge them under my armpits, coiling my hands around his calves and start to pull. The only sounds heard in the hall for the next minute are the body getting dragged across stone floors, mixed with my impatient pants and heated curses while Wolfgang stands petulantly on the platform.
Finally, after a few stops to catch my breath, I make it to the corner of the room. Wiping sweat from my brow with the back of my hand, I peer down the well, breathing hard.
It’s more like a gaping hole in the ground, with barely any ledge surrounding the cavernous pit. I’m assuming it’s filled with the sacrificial skeletons of past Lotteries.
Getting on my knees, I give the body a few hard shoves and it topples over the edge. The seconds between the fall and the sound of the body landing at the bottom confirm that the pit is deep. Letting out a tired sigh, I stand up and startle when I realize Wolfgang is standing right next to me.
“Needs to be said,” he drawls, his words sharp and pointed. “You look like a whore in that dress.”
I don’t have time to react before he shoves me hard in the chest. I lose my footing, my body pitching backward as I fall straight into the pit.