Chapter 1 #2
Plus, I remind myself scornfully, she’s not truly going to accept no for an answer.
So, my choices are to say yes, or to run, leaving my life and the only people I care about in this world behind.
And running is no guarantee of my safety—if she found me once, she can surely find me again.
And I would never, ever risk leaving Math and Cece here to get caught in the crossfire.
I exhale roughly and press away from the table to pace.
My worn leather boots are silent against the pale beachwood floor as I walk, back and forth, back and forth.
I twirl a lock of black hair around my finger and then scowl at it, tossing it back with a huff of annoyance.
My sister has taken everything from me. I pay an alchemist monthly for a tonic that changes my eyes from their natural deep green to a muddy brown, and my hair to this ink black.
It also has an interesting side effect of making hair on the rest of my body disappear entirely.
Donovan believes that to be permanent, but interestingly enough, men seem to adore it.
He’s assured me many times that the other changes can most certainly be reversed, so perhaps one day, I can be myself once more.
Looking in the mirror is still a shock sometimes, even after all these years, a stranger staring back at me.
I wonder if I would even recognize my true self anymore.
My chest aches at the thought, but icy fire fills my veins, fury and rage at all my sister has taken from me rising.
I know that it had to be done if I wanted any chance at a real life.
I needed to be sure that I bore no resemblance to my former self, to look nothing like the King of Lyanna’s precious Gifted.
If they realized who my sister was, they would have known that I, too, have powers beyond imagining.
Being a Gifted without the protection of someone like Barony was far too dangerous in Hypathia. Gifteds were enslaved every day.
Being a slave at all is a terrifying thought, but for years most Gifteds ended up in Duskthorne, and that’s a fate worse than death.
King Dorian employs hundreds of Hunters to track down as many Gifteds as possible and bring them back to his kingdom.
They’re enslaved, used for their powers, kept in cages and forced to perform like animals for travelers from all across the continent for a price.
Well, that used to be the case before he dropped farther and farther into his madness and became a recluse, shutting the gates of his kingdom to outsiders.
Makers know what goes on behind those impenetrable walls now, but I’m sure the atrocities have far from ended.
Rumors still swirl that he keeps the female Gifteds for himself to…
breed. Even now, I shiver with fear at the thought of ending up there.
I would choose death a thousand times over.
Most Gifts aren’t particularly noteworthy or powerful, nothing that could be used in any offensive or violent way: the ability to light candles without match or flint; coaxing crops to grow or flowers to bloom; traces of telekinesis; the ability to breathe under water like a sea creature.
There are legends of a time when Gifteds bonded with great beasts—bears and lions and even dragons—and drew even more strength from their familiars, resulting in powers that could move mountains and turn entire armies to ash on the winds, but there’s been no record of a bonded Gifted in almost a century as far as I know, familiars are truly only myths these days.
But even the smallest Gifts are enough to catch the attention of the greedy.
No Gifted is safe within the empire anymore, not really, especially with some of the gossip I’ve heard the sailors bring from the northern ports, gossip I pray to all the Makers is simply that.
The alternative is almost too horrible to imagine.
I shiver and keep pacing, watching Cece take up the parchment, dark eyes darting over the elegant script, widening before eventually meeting mine again.
“She’s begging you, Thea. She says it’s a matter of life and death.”
“Ah, see! Death! I was right,” Math says with a smug grin, tossing the rag down onto the table with a soggy plop. Cece gives him a level look, and he ducks his head sheepishly. “Sorry. Sorry. Not something to celebrate. Right.” He holds his hands up in surrender.
“It seems truly important.” After a heartbeat of silence, she adds softly, “Perhaps this is your chance to heal old wounds, to finally truly move on.”
I narrow my eyes and stop my pacing, putting my hands on my hips indignantly.
“I am perfectly healed, thank you very much.” Math snorts but quickly covers it with a cough.
“Ok, fine, I’m not healed, exactly, but I’m fine.
” At their unconvinced looks, I throw my hands up in the air.
“Alright, fucking hells, I’m…” I trail off, not knowing what word to use.
I’m mostly content in my life here with Math and Cece.
I love the two of them more than anything else in this world.
I love the tavern. I love the raucous sailors and the ever-present noise from the docks.
I definitely love my time with Randolph when he’s in port and some of the other fellows around town when he isn’t… But am I happy? Am I whole?
I’m not sure that I ever can be, really. Tesni broke a fundamental part of me and I’m not sure that those jagged pieces can ever truly be put back together again.
“Look, I don’t know if those wounds can be healed, even with an apology or whatever it is Tesni is planning to do or say.”
“It could be worth a try though, right?” Cece says.
She has seven sisters and loves them all dearly.
I envy that, but I know it makes it nearly impossible for my friend to comprehend how sisters could be torn apart as Tesni and I had been, to have hatred between us instead of love and adoration.
She’d been angry at Tesni on my behalf after I’d told her and Math my story all those years ago, but she’s always held onto the notion that perhaps it was a misunderstanding of some kind.
She’d been young, she’d been afraid, she hadn’t understood what she was doing—Cece had given a thousand explanations in her attempt to dull the razor-sharp edge of my rage and hurt.
“And she says she needs your help. You can’t really ignore that, can you?”
I give her a look that says I most certainly fucking can, but she shoots me one back that makes me press my lips into a hard line.
Cece is sweet and bright, but she can also be unyielding and brutal when she needs to be.
She is going to make a brilliant mother one day, I think, knowing that she and Math have been trying for a child for a few months now.
I exhale roughly and stare at the empty hearth as if it holds all the answers.
After a minute or an hour, Math asks softly, “So…will you go then?”
Will I go? I twirl a lock of hair around my finger once more. It’s an absent-minded gesture that I’ve always done. When we’d been young, it was the only way King Barony had been able to tell Tesni and I apart. If he watched long enough, I would always give myself away with my hair twirling.
I take a deep breath and force myself to think through everything again.
When I’d had to flee the north, I’d been a terrified child of only twelve, without the power to fight back.
All I’d known was that I wanted to live, and at the time, that had meant running from everything I’d ever known and fighting tooth and nail in a world that wasn’t kind to young girls.
Now, I’m a woman of twenty-seven with too much knowledge of the world and a heart made of ice.
Now, I burn to make my sister answer for her crimes.
I will not forgive, nor will I forget…but perhaps I’ll allow my sister to try, to beg for mercy.
And then I’ll laugh as I deny it, deny whatever help she’s requesting.
My power stirs at the thought, my palms tingling.
Once upon a time, the power would have overtaken me completely as my emotions roiled, but I’m stronger now. I know how to handle myself.
And if my sister wants a fight, I’ll be ready for it.
I turn back to Cece and Math, the best people I’ve ever met, the only two people I can ever truly love and who, by some miracle, love me in return.
They know my past and my true identity, and welcomed me into their fold without question or hesitation, saving my life years ago.
They aren’t my blood, but they’re my family.
If they think I should do this, maybe I should.
I press my shoulders back and give them a hard nod.
“I’m going.”