43. Mercy
43
MERCY
D izzy’s words hang between us like rotting entrails dripping rancid blood onto the rug beneath our feet. It takes me a few racing heartbeats to realize the weight behind her words.
“Vile tactless snail,” I snap. “I could crush you with just the tip of my heel. What makes you think I need your help?”
She lets the silence linger as if trying to intimidate me. I should kill her just for the audacity alone. Her smile grows into a demonic slit. “I could kill him for you.”
She doesn’t need to say his name for me to know who she’s referring to.
Wolfgang.
My heartbeat triples in rate as indignant shock washes over me like a harsh, cold wave.
“Do you have a death wish, Dizzy?” I grit through my teeth, the muscles in my jaw tensing painfully. “How dare you mock the gods like this?”
She cocks her head, her long bob falling off her shoulder. “Like what? For saying the one thing out loud that you’ve wished all along? I know what you did at the Lottery, Mercy.” She leans forward, elbows on her knees. “I don’t think co-ruling was exactly what you had in mind, was it?”
I narrow my eyes, cold sweat prickling my forehead. “How would you know that?”
She scoffs, resting her back against the settee and crossing her arms. “People talk.” She tucks her hair behind her ear. “Not everyone is as tied to traditions as you lot.”
My stomach is in knots, anger like rusty nails digging into flesh. “I should eviscerate you for just thinking about killing one of us.”
Her laugh is cold. “Don’t tell me you’ve grown fond of a Vainglory.” She pins me with a hard stare. “Trust me, he would betray you in a heartbeat if given the chance.”
“He wouldn’t,” I retort. But my words evoke a doubt in my own heart. Like acid, they chew through my walls much faster than I would ever expect. I’m stunned by how fast she’s able to slither doubt into my head.
“Did you forget I’ve worked under him for nearly half of my life?” Her red-stained lips curl into another sneer. “Wolfgang will never be capable of loving anyone but himself. So self-absorbed he didn’t even realize the threat was right under his nose all along.”
“So it was you then,” I state, taking a step forward as I pull my dress up my thigh to reveal my dagger. “You were behind all of it.”
“Yes,” she answers simply; her haughty attitude is begging me to kill her. Yet something keeps me from doing it.
She’s planted a seed, and I am now frozen in place, watching the seed grow and grow and grow. Reckless. Damaging. Like invasive vines creeping into every crack of my rationality.
“Would a secret placate you?” she asks, staring me down, elbows back on her knees. “I admit it. Our initial plan was to kill you all — make way for a new era. But we’ve come to our senses. You six are much too powerful. So we’ve changed course, decided on the next best thing.”
I let the silence thicken, smoothing my tongue over my teeth as I study her. She’s a demented weasel if she thinks I believe a word she says. “And killing one of us is your solution? You must think I’m just as self-absorbed as your boss.”
Her arrogance is unwavering. “Would you prefer taking your chances with Wolfgang?” Her laugh is villainous and my fingers tighten over the dagger still sheathed to my thigh. “Is your life worth the gamble?”
I press my lips into a thin line, my glare turning vicious. “Silly girl. I’m not afraid of death,” I snarl.
She holds my stare, quirking an eyebrow. “What about a betrayal, then?”
Betrayal.
The word is like the sharpest of blades, flaying my chest to shreds, cracking my ribs open one by one until the only thing left is my heart, unprotected, bloody, and weak.
My throat tightens, and I take a second before speaking, needing to make sure my voice won’t crack.
My dry laugh is full of condescension. “How do you know I won’t go to Wolfgang with this?”
There’s a pompous air to Dizzy, and I can’t help but wonder if she’s learned such arrogance from Wolfgang himself.
“Just a hunch,” she answers with a shrug.
Finally having enough of her grating attitude, I dismiss her. “Get out of my sight,” I bark.
The threat in my tone has the same effect as a dagger to her throat, and she winces. Her fear soothes my nerves somewhat.
She stands, and I don’t give her the courtesy of a single look.
“You know where to reach me. Just know I won’t wait forever,” she says solemnly.
Without another glance, she leaves.
I can’t tell how much time has passed, but the longer I sit here in silence, the more it feels like the walls are closing in on me. I stand up abruptly and storm out of the drawing room.
Our conversation should not have rattled me like this. Moronic low-class peasant thinking I would fall for her threats. She must think me a fool if she thinks I believe that she’ll stop at just Wolfgang.
The walls pulse around me as if sentient while I storm through the long corridor. I feel trapped. Deceived in my own house.
By the time I end up in the atrium, I’m breathing heavily through the nose like a raging bull, so worked up that I can barely think.
“Get out!” I yell at the few servants in the room setting up for dinner. It’s almost a shriek and I can barely recognize the sound of my own voice.
They all jolt in fear and then quickly scamper. I don’t wait for them to file out of the room before heading for the table and swiping my hands through fine china and crystal.
It all crashes to the floor, and the sound spurs me further into my spiral. By the time I’m done, the table is empty, and I’m standing amidst the shattered aftermath.
Broken pieces. Shards of glass.
My breathing is shallow. And I don’t feel remotely better.
Betrayal .
The word pulses over and over, slowly seeping into the blood in my veins, taking more and more space inside of me.
I can’t let it go.
Her offer.
It’s a loophole on a silver platter.
If I don’t take it—take advantage of it, Wolfgang surely will.
I would be naive to think I can trust anyone but myself. Wolfgang has said it before: The only reason he’s had a change of heart is because the gods decreed it .
And now this.
Is this not a divine invitation?
Is this not fate calling my name?
I know that if I give Dizzy the go-ahead, Wolfgang’s death will not satiate her. She’ll come after me next, but I’ll deal with that pest later. As if she could ever touch me.
Pushing my hair off of my face, I straighten my dress and take a deep breath before stepping up to the large windows. The sun is setting over Pravitia, and I watch the dying rays refract against the tinted windows of skyscrapers, the water of the harbor twinkling orange in the distance.
Wolfgang will never be capable of loving anyone but himself.
I feel sick. The idea of Wolfgang betraying me slithers through every single insecurity I’ve held on to so tightly during all these weeks with him.
Maybe it meant nothing.
Maybe our fate was our demise all along.
The echo of Dizzy’s words continues to ring shrilly in my ears. And maybe a Crèvecoeur will never be capable of trusting anyone else but themself.
By the time the city has donned its nightly cloak, I know what must be done.