CHAPTER SIXTY ISI
CHAPTER SIXTY
ISI
“I’ll help you dress quickly, Princess,” the woman said. “If you hurry, you’ll get there before the ceremony begins.”
“Of course,” I said, my voice steady despite the panic clawing at my throat.
“I do apologize that there aren’t more ladies here to help.
I stayed behind. I thought you might need someone when you came home.
” She tugged the cloth off the sapphire blue I’d worn countless times before.
The fabric whispered as she shook it out, and my stomach turned. “They’ve already left for the village.”
“It’s fine. We can do it ourselves.” It was all I could do to force a fake smile.
She assisted me out of my cloak, tunic, and pants, tutting about my outfit but wisely not asking why I wasn’t wearing a gown.
“Arms up, Princess.”
I raised them mechanically, letting her pull the robe over my head. My body moved through familiar motions while my thoughts screamed.
Mae. My friend who’d held me when I cried over my mother’s death. My lady who’d smuggled me food she stole from the kitchen when Father punished me with fasting. The woman who’d risked everything to help me escape this cursed castle.
The robe settled over my shoulders, heavier than I remembered. Or perhaps I’d simply grown strong enough to feel the true weight of what it represented.
The silk whispered against my skin like a lover’s secret, but it choked like chains.
Fates, I craved Trew’s touch now, his heat chasing away the cold dread pooling in my veins.
But we had a plan. I just had to survive long enough to ignite it.
“You’ve changed,” the woman said as she fastened the clasps. “You seem taller somehow.”
I was the same height I’d always been, but she was right. Everything about me had shifted, realigning to become more than the obedient girl who’d worn this costume before.
She arranged my hair, twisting it into a simple knot at my nape. She’d done this many times, never once questioning what the ceremony truly meant.
“The mask, Princess.”
When she lifted it from the velvet-lined box, the bone-white face stared at nothing with empty eyes.
My hands trembled as I reached for it. The last time I’d worn this mask, I’d believed in small rebellions and that saving a few lives over sixteen years could be considered a victory.
Now I knew what true defiance looked like.
The mask settled against my skin, cool and familiar and utterly horrifying. But I needed it.
I’d give one final performance before I tore this entire illusion down.
As it clicked into place, I whispered to myself, For Trew. For us.
His love was my true mask now, armor against the man who’d tried to break me.
I turned to face the mirror, and my reflection stared back, a stranger in sapphire and white. But beneath it burned the woman I’d forged, the one who’d faced death in the Rite and emerged bonded to fire and fate.
“You’re unbreakable,” Trew had whispered once, his rough hands framing my face, his lips brushing mine in a kiss that tasted like forever. That memory held me now, turning dread into defiance. I wouldn’t just perform; I’d shatter everything.
“You look beautiful, Princess,” my lady said. “Your father will be so proud.”
The bells rang louder, their crystal tones vibrating through the stone walls.
“I need to leave,” I said.
“Of course, of course.” She opened the door, gesturing me through. “The ceremony waits for no one, not even the Lady of Mercy.”
I hurried through the castle and then the gardens on legs that wanted to sprint toward the village square and tear Mae away from the elders holding out mugs of ashwine.
As I hurried down the road leading to the square, star-thorns and ghostbells tangled over trellises, their heavy perfume clogging the back of my throat. White petals scattered across the path, traditional decorations that now felt like grave markers.
The village square opened ahead, memories of each prior Day of Mercy shot through me. Me, trembling on the platform, feeling useless. My people dying for something that was one of the most wonderful parts of them.
My heart roared up into my throat as each toll of the bells counted down to death.
Or revolution.
Trew’s voice echoed in my mind. “When the moment comes, remember who you are. My equal. Burn it all down.” His words wrapped around me like armor, steadying my steps.
Fates, what I wouldn’t give for one of his smirks right now, that wicked curve of his mouth promising we’d face this side by side and emerge laughing.
The platform stood at the center of the village, draped with direblight lilies. Elders in their sky-gray robes moved among the condemned, handing out mugs of ashwine. Those who wore white gleamed too brightly in the morning sun.
I counted them. Once. Twice.
Twenty-four souls, marked for slaughter. Mae’s familiar form blurred through my tears. This woman was like family. How dare he use her against me? Rage kindled in my core, hot and unyielding, my magic stirring in a storm about to break.
Father stood at the platform’s center in his ceremonial robes, his gold circlet catching sunlight.
The crowd parted as I approached. Whispers followed in my wake.
“The Lady of Mercy.”
“The king said she was too ill to attend.”
“Perhaps she recovered. So brave of her to come.”
I climbed the platform steps. Father had begun his traditional speech, his voice carrying across the square.
“On this Day of Mercy, we cleanse what madness would soon corrupt—” Shock crossed his features as his gaze landed on me, followed by fury, then something calculating and cold. “Amarissa.” He recovered quickly, his voice smoothing. “You’ve returned to perform your duty.”
There he went, trying to control the narrative, forcing me back into the role of obedient daughter and dutiful executioner.
I removed the mask.
The crowd gasped as I let it fall to the platform at Father’s feet.
“I have returned,” I said, my voice carrying across the suddenly silent square. “But not for the duty you imagine.”
Father’s hand moved toward the ceremonial blade strapped to his side. “You forget yourself, daughter.” He lifted his hand to hit me, thought better of it, and lowered it back to the blade.
I met his gaze without flinching. “For the first time in my life, I know who I am.”
Movement rippled through the crowd, and a tall figure pushed through.
I’d mapped those shoulders with trembling fingers and that stride that commanded storms. Trew was here for me. Always for me.
His disguise fell away like smoke as he strode closer to the platform, his golden eyes blazing.
The crowd pressed back from him without conscious thought, their bodies recognizing a predator even if their minds didn’t understand. His magic filled the square with a pressure that made ears pop and hearts stutter.
When his eyes found mine, everything else fell away. I found his silent promise there. I’m here. We end this together.
Heat bloomed in my chest, our magics entwining even at this distance, twin flames igniting.
Pherin trilled from her perch in a nearby tree, her joy echoing mine, while Gavelle’s shadow cut across the square, a dark promise of protection, soaring low over the crowd.
People ducked and cried out. He landed on Trew’s shoulder.
Trew’s gaze shot to my father, his golden eyes as cold as winter death. Violence radiated from every line of his body.
Gavelle launched from his shoulder, shifting mid-flight. Where a bird had been, a massive firecat transformed. He landed hard, shaking the cobblestones.
The crowd screamed and scattered.
Pherin answered from above, her own cry a piercing defiance, reminding me we weren’t alone in this fight.
“Release Isi,” Trew growled. “Or I’ll show this court what a true harvest looks like.”
His words sliced through me, raw and possessive, the kind of vow that made my knees weak. You’re mine, he’d growled not long ago, claiming me with his hands and heat. Now he claimed me with threats of ruin, his love a weapon honed for my protection.
He approached the prisoners. “This ends today.” His voice carried the authority of a king. “Those who wish to live, who refuse to drink poison dressed as mercy, can come with me.”
Twenty-four prisoners surged toward him. Guards moved to block them, their swords raised.
“Touch them, and I’ll show you what mercy truly looks like.” Trew said, his voice cutting through the cries of the crowd. His gaze fixed on my father with pure rage. “Step away from Isi. Now.”
Father moved fast. His arm locked around my shoulders, and he pressed the sharp edge of his blade against my throat.
“Leave,” he snarled at Trew. “Or I’ll kill her.”
The temperature in the square plummeted. Frost formed on the cobblestones radiating out from where Trew stood.
Guards shuddered, their breath misting, while villagers shivered. He’d unleashed a winter storm for me alone. My own magic surged, a counterpoint to his ice, binding us even as Father’s grip tightened.
Trew’s magic erupted, no longer controlled. It blasted out from him, the pressure of it driving people to their knees.
Trew’s voice went deathly quiet. “The moment that blade cuts deeper, your heart stops beating.”
He wasn’t bluffing. I could feel his magic coiled like a serpent, ready to strike. Could feel Gavelle’s fury through our bond. And beneath it, Trew’s fear for me.
I’d shatter realms before losing you, he’d vowed, his voice rough with need. That promise whispered between us, unbreakable.
Father felt it too. The blade trembled against my throat.
“She’s corrupted,” he said, but his voice shook. “The corrupted must die. It… It’s always been this way, and we cannot change what the fates decide!”
“You decide, not the fates,” I snarled. “End this now, father.”
He growled at Trew. “You twisted her. My beloved daughter, who had no hint of magic in her bones.”
“That’s not true,” I cried out. “Mother had magic and so do I. It’s not forced on anyone.”