Chapter 23
Chapter
Twenty-Three
TESNI
Ipace in what passes as the grand bed chamber in this dismal chateau.
It’s barely larger than my sitting room at Castle Lyanna and the furnishings leave much to be desired.
It belonged to some long-dead relative of Hastings, but it hasn’t been in real use for years.
I’ve hated every Makers’ forsaken minute here, but I suppose when the alternative is being sold off to that wretch in Marrowood—or worse—this will suffice for a time.
“You must only endure for a short while, my moonbeam,” Hastings promised the day we set this plan into motion and I stole away from the castle grounds while Thea’s carriage set off in the other direction.
It’s getting harder and harder not to lash out and tell him what a pathetic little worm I truly think he is each time he calls me moonbeam or cupcake or one of the other equally nauseating pet names he’s come up with.
Kissing the man makes me nearly physically ill, doing more makes me want to burn my own skin off, but everything is a means to an end, and I will always, always find the end I desire, do whatever it takes, use whoever it takes and dust my boots with their ashes.
I should feel guilt for the things I’ve done, the people I’ve hurt along the way to get what I want, Thea most of all.
And I think that I do, on some level, but it’s a level that’s too insignificant to matter or change my course.
I have always had this fire inside of me.
Not my physical fire from my Gift, but that burning desire for more, always more.
More coin, more clothes, more jewels. My name whispered in feared reverence on more tongues.
My beauty sung about in more ballads. My power praised and worshipped by more people.
Always more.
Some, however, don’t call it fire. They call it darkness. Wrongness. Evil.
Perhaps it is all those things.
Perhaps I should care.
Perhaps, when I make it out of this and I’m living in luxury on one of the islands far, far away from Barony and his experiments and his thirst for his own power, I’ll change and become a better person.
I snort as I drink my wine.
I will never change and it’s foolish to even entertain the idea. A wolf may lie among sheep, disguised in their wool, but a wolf it remains.
“And why should I change?” I demand of the flames in the grate across the room, flicking and dancing, calling out to me as they always have.
I’m the most powerful Gifted in all of Hypathia, despite what Barony is trying to do to change that.
I deserve everything I’ve been given—or taken by cunning or deceit or the threat of fire.
I deserve the praise. I deserve the recognition. I deserve the fear.
“I deserve to be a fucking queen!” I hurl my glass of wine as I scream, the glass shattering against the stone hearth.
I’d practically begged Barony over the years to make it so, to make me Tesni Moreau in truth, not merely Tesni de Moreau, a member of his house belonging to him, but not of the royal line.
I would have suffered through consummation of the damned affair easily enough if he’d demanded it.
He’s attractive enough, and much younger than most of the other royals.
It wouldn't have been so hard to fuck him if needed. People think it’s difficult to simply not care about things, but they’re wrong.
It’s as easy as breathing if you let it be.
But he would never agree. Even when I was the one who helped him keep his crown all these years.
He’s ruthless, to be sure, but he isn't smart and sure as hells isn’t a true king.
A throne can be inherited in Hypathia—or it can be taken.
Barony managed to take it by sheer fucking luck all those years ago, but he’s only kept it because of more sheer fucking luck, and, more importantly, me.
And yet he refuses to give me my rightful title of queen?
The one I earned over and over again, keeping the people of Lyanna in check, keeping his enemies at bay, convincing him that if he was going to continue with his experiments, he was going to need allies because even all those years ago, with his dark, twisted dreams of power in their infancy, I knew that it would all end in war with Duskthorne.
I just never thought he’d use me as a pawn within it.
I grit my teeth, flames flaring and engulfing my hands, crawling up my forearms. Thinking of that bastard selling me off as a bargaining chip to solidify his alliance, of the fact that he collared me, makes my power roil.
The flames burn hotter, flaring higher. At least Hastings was able to get a copy of the key before I went into this loathed hiding.
I run my fingers along my throat, still feeling that cold metal, that helpless feeling that threatened to drown me without the use of my power.
My power. I know that Barony covets my Gift more than any other in all of Hypathia.
I suppose I should thank the Makers that the alchemists haven’t been able to find a way to take a Gift without killing the original bearer.
As much as Barony wants my Gift and was happy to use me in his game with the rest of the Alliance, I know he would never want me dead.
I should feel bad for the Gifteds who don’t have that luxury, who are being used in these experiments and paying the ultimate price for it, but again, that part of me is. ..buried. Cold. Broken, perhaps.
But the alchemists are working every day trying to find a way to remove a Gift without killing the Gifted. They will, eventually, and once they do, once Barony has a chance of taking my power without killing me in the process, he’ll do it in a heartbeat.
And I will not allow my power to be taken.
So, this plan must work. And for this plan to work, I must bide my time in this Makers’ forsaken abandoned chateau deep in the hills of Lyanna, beyond the farms and the woodlands, where no one would possibly think the great Flame of Lyanna would be hiding.
I scream through clenched teeth and the fire in the hearth soars upward.
“Oh, my flower, what’s wrong?” Hastings’ grating voice sounds from behind me and I curl my lip, rolling my eyes before wiping the hatred away and plastering a warm smile on my face and bringing soft tears to my eyes. It’s quite a talent, if I do say so myself. I turn and run into his arms.
“Oh darling, I’ve been waiting for you and so worried.
” He wraps me in a weak embrace and I bury my face in his neck before he can kiss me with that disgusting, slobbering tongue of his.
He pets the back of my head as if I’m a dog.
We can’t get the ransom and to the island mansion I was promised is waiting quickly enough.
Then I can be rid of this pathetic little dog.
“I’m sorry it’s taken me so long. Things are...” He trails off and I stiffen, pulling back to meet his eyes.
"What’s wrong? What’s happened?”
“Oh, my sweet, we have received reports that the whole of Amon’s forces have been defeated.”
My brow furrows. Amon is one of the most ruthless and feared commanders in all of Hypathia.
Blackheart is formidable, to be sure, but Hastings said that Amon had a Gifted in his army that would make victory against Dorian’s lapdog all but assured.
Duskthorne is still nearly impenetrable, but without the great Commander and a large number of his forces, it would sure as hells make taking the kingdom easier.
It would take time, but it would happen with Blackheart out of the way. How in the hells....
“Wait. Did you say the whole of his forces? How...”
He licks his lips nervously and wipes at the sweat that’s beading across his forehead.
“Entombed, I’m afraid...in ice.”
“No,” I whisper. “No, that isn’t possible.” I step away from him, beginning to pace again as what this means crystalizes in my mind. Thea, what have you done? And how??
“I’m afraid so, my honeyrose. We’ve had scouts sent who have confirmed that it’s true. The entire army is encased in miles upon miles of ice.”
“But...but...no! No, this doesn’t make any sense.
She shouldn't be able to use her Gift at all. Why was she not collared?? Why would she risk her life like that?” Fire ripples across my knuckles as I add in a low, seething whisper to myself, “And how the hells did she accomplish something so...terrifying?” I knew Thea’s power had grown in these years apart, but I never could have imagined she was capable of something like this. This is bad. This is very, very bad.
“This potentially complicates our plan. We’re unaware if they know who Thea is at this point. They could believe that she’s still you, and that you have a second Gift that you’ve kept hidden...”
I glare at him over my shoulder and he cowers.
There has never been a Gifted with more than one power.
Though Barony is trying to change all that, of course, as it stands, there is no possible way anyone could believe that a Gifted could control both fire and ice.
So, no, they must know that she isn’t me.
If she’s figured out how to use her Gift like that, she probably revealed all, intending to use her great power as a bargaining chip to remain out of Dorian’s dungeons—or bedchamber.
Which means they won’t negotiate a ransom. Which means at best, I’m stuck in this ramshackle excuse for a chateau, and at worst, I’m hunted down once more, by Hunters and the Alliance.
I continue to pace, mind whirling, creating and discarding plans.
Barony has always called me his cunning little ember, so, cunning I will continue to be.
Another plan forms, morphs, and solidifies.
My face relaxes, that dark voice inside my mind sighing in relief, and a wicked smile pulls at my lips.
“We’ll figure something out, my stardust.”
“I know,” I say, turning to face him.
He’s still looking at me with that lovesick idolatry in his eyes as the first flames engulf him.