CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
ON MY HONOR
This is my fault, this is my fault, this is my fault . . .
The words rattle painfully around my skull, and I feel as if I’m drowning under the weight of guilt. My lungs are full, throat tightening from all the words I can’t say.
“How are our defenses holding?” Luc asks. His voice sounds muffled, as if he’s speaking from underwater, or from the other end of a tunnel.
It’s my job to fix things, but I don’t know how to fix this.
“We’ve sealed off entry into Widow’s Hall, grounded all sky cart activities, and have teams of soldiers patrolling the rest of the mountain, but right now, it appears they’re concentrating their attacks on Widow’s Hall.”
That’s a relief, at least. So long as they’re focused here, at the top of the mountain, civilians will be left unharmed. There’s no way of knowing how long that will last.
My stomach flips violently as I think of my mother, headed back to Ophera less than an hour ago, and I have to swallow down bile. She made it back. She’s okay. She has to be.
The curtains part, and Luc’s parents enter the room. Mathson hurries over to us. “What the hell is going on?”
“Petruvia is attacking.” Luc’s voice shakes. “They’re outside right now.”
“What?” Yelina looks more shocked than I feel. “That’s impossible. How would they have gotten past our perimeter without us knowing? The Sulen gatepost is the most fortified on the mountain.”
The decurio only shakes his head. “We don’t know, ma’am. We’ve never experienced anything like this. Our focus now is making sure they don’t gain access to Widow’s Hall. We’re in the process of gathering more soldiers to fight them off. But we’re—”
“Wait.” Alarm bells blare in the back of my mind as Yelina’s words fully sink in.
My thoughts are in frazzled disarray, but as I slowly turn to face her, a clearer image presents itself.
“Yelina, how did you know they came in through the Sulen gatepost specifically? You just got here. No one told you that.”
Luc frowns at me. “Mira, you aren’t suggesting . . .” His sentence trails, and he laughs awkwardly. “Obviously, my mom had nothing to do with this.”
“Then why isn’t she answering the question?”
Luc opens his mouth, no doubt to defend her again, but his excuses on her behalf die with her prolonged silence. He eyes his mother with sudden wariness. “Mom? What is she talking about?”
For three seconds, Yelina stares at me, eyes slightly widened, lips slightly parted, before she scoffs. “It’s the quickest way up the mountain, and Petruvia is to the east. Anyone with any knowledge of strategy would assume it’s how they breached the perimeter.”
I don’t believe her for a second.
She hasn’t lied—not technically—but her words are designed that way. Not speaking a direct mistruth, but still holding back from complete honesty. “Why do you know so much about battle strategy?”
“My son is the Praeceptor. My husband is a former Honorate.”
Still not lying, but not directly answering my question either.
This situation is my fault, and I know it. I’m the one who ensured the Sulen gatepost was unguarded, but I suspect I’m not the only guilty party here.
I glance at the soldier who delivered the news. He’s still here, looking uncomfortable. “Can you give us a moment?”
He’s only too pleased to rush out of the room, not even pausing to ask Luc for instructions.
Kaidren makes to leave too, but I catch his sleeve, stopping him.
Shockingly, of everyone here, I trust him the most right now. But it’s more than that. If there’s to be war—if I’m to accuse my stepmother of starting it—I want him by my side.
Kaidren looks surprised, but with a nod, he stays where he is.
I look to Yelina. “That soldier said the Petruvians, who have been at our court for months, fled this morning. As if someone warned them.”
“Or as if they knew the attack was coming. You’re being absurd, Remira.”
Still not directly denying my thinly veiled accusations. “What did you do? Did you tell Petruvia where to attack?” I can’t believe Yelina would sabotage her son like this, especially on his coronation day. She’s obsessed with Luc; she’d never do anything to jeopardize him or his reign.
Yelina’s mouth flaps open and closed a few times, as if to answer me. Then, she purses her lips, saying nothing.
Her silence is the loudest possible action she could have taken.
Stars in hell, she really did it.
I’m not sure I’ve ever seen Mathson look so stunned. “Lina? This is ridiculous. Just say no.”
“She can’t,” I say softly, still floored that I’m right. “It would be a lie.”
Yelina’s eyes flick to Kaidren.
“Don’t worry about him,” I say. “He already knows about me. Just answer the question: Did you tell Petruvia when and where to attack?”
Again, she says nothing.
Mathson and Luc look horrified. “Mom?” Luc says, panicked.
“You can easily prove me wrong,” I say. “All you have to do is say you didn’t do it. Just say no. One word, two letters.”
Finally, she clears her throat. “How do I know you wouldn’t lie? If I deny it, you’ll tell them I’m lying and we’ll just have to take your word for it.”
I roll my eyes. There’s an easy test for that.
“Luc and I have been playing this game forever.” I nudge Kaidren.
“Will you get me an unlit torch? I’ll ask her again.
If she lies, I’ll have magic to light it.
If not, I won’t be able to. Simple.” I smirk at Yelina.
“Unless you want to spare us the trouble now?”
She’s glaring at me with more hatred than she ever has before. “Don’t bother.”
Luc staggers back as though she slapped him. “You led them here? On my coronation day? Why would you do that?”
I’m trying to figure that out myself. She loves Luc. Why would she want to ruin the biggest day of his life?
And how? They got through the Sulen gatepost because of me, but even before that, they needed to cross through Ophera without being detected by any Virdeian soldiers.
A feat only possible because Petruvia laid siege to the eastern perimeter of Farvelle during the second trial, and because for the past few months, the Honorate has blocked any efforts to increase our presence on Ophera’s border.
Suddenly, I feel so foolish I could scream.
The imposter Shadow Queen forced Selva Sixmen to block any order to increase security in Ophera. The imposter forced him to encourage other Honorate to block it as well. I assumed it was all Flynn’s way of getting back at his father for murdering Neveah, but it was deeper than that.
“Flynn wasn’t working alone,” I say aloud. “You were his accomplice. You’ve been working for weeks to make sure Ophera wasn’t guarded, and then you told Petruvia when and where to attack. You sabotaged your own son—”
“I didn’t sabotage him,” Yelina snaps. “Petruvia wasn’t supposed to get this far.”
“Why?” Luc demands.
“They were only supposed to breach our treaty. Sulen was supposed to be well guarded, so their soldiers would be easily apprehended. If they violated the treaty first and started a war, Virdei could draft a new one, with stricter limits.”
“All this for the treaty?” Luc says.
“For war,” Yelina corrects. “Every five years, we renegotiate that treaty to stave off war. But there are loopholes. We saw Petruvia exploit them—”
“Because of you,” I say.
Yelina raises her voice, speaking over me. “There are flaws to treaties with terms that apply to a Praeceptor that changes every five years. Petruvia wants to negotiate with someone more stable—a king.”
This was all for Luc. She wanted me framed for murder, and a crown for her son.
She was leading them into a trap, but they trusted her. She’s Petruvian, after all. Not to mention she’d already proved her loyalty by helping them take over Farvelle and weaken Ophera’s borders.
“I already won the throne,” says Luc.
“You won another five years in an impermanent role. Five years from now, you’ll have to compete all over again. I’m talking about making you a king for life.”
“Virdei is a Republic.”
“We are a Republic in name only. We are basically already a monarchy with a rotating king.”
Everything about her is vile, but in this one instance, she’s right. The Republic only cares about appearances. Pretending the Honorate are good men; pretending the people’s voices carry weight; pretending the role of Praeceptor is earned.
The truth is the Honorate are liars and thieves willing to do whatever it takes to keep their indiscretions out of the public eye.
With the Honorate laws of succession, the people rarely ever vote for the men who represent them.
And the Tournament doesn’t ensure that the man on the throne is a worthy leader—just that he made a big enough spectacle to keep the people entertained.
“A new treaty, bound to a permanent king. One where we don’t have to share control over Ophera or its resources. I was doing this for you.” Yelina’s voice is gentle, begging for Luc to listen. To understand.
“What about the part where you framed me for murder?” I snarl. “Was that for your son’s benefit?”
Yelina stills. She doesn’t deny it. She can’t.
She keeps her eyes on Luc, pleading with him to listen.
“When I married your father, they told me he’d be Praeceptor one day and I’d be the wife of the most powerful man in the Republic.
That never happened. I never got what I was promised, but my son will have everything. ”
“That wasn’t my fault,” I say.
But of course she’ll never see it that way.
Neveah Sixmen was Yelina’s closest friend.
Yelina wanted revenge on Selva for killing his wife, and revenge on me for existing.
I’m the reason Mathson never became Praeceptor, as well as evidence that the husband she married as a trade agreement was unfaithful.
She figured she’d take care of both her problems at once.
“You and Neveah were friends,” I say. “You must’ve been furious when you realized she was murdered.”
“Murdered?” Mathson glances between me and Yelina. “You’re talking about Neveah Sixmen?”
“Yes.” Yelina’s back is rigid. “She was my best friend. Selva was an awful man and a cruel husband who made her miserable. Years ago, she had an affair with another Honorate.”
I know who it is before she says it. “Arliss Vale.”
“Yes. That was over twenty years ago. She always knew Flynn was his, but she never told anyone. Aside from me. She planned to protect that secret forever, but when Arliss got sick, she felt guilty for keeping his son from him. She was going to tell him.” Yelina shudders.
“But then she went missing. Selva learned the truth and killed her.”
“When did you tell Flynn what happened?”
“I didn’t. He figured it out on his own. He said he talked to some servant and put it together.”
I draw in a sharp breath. Flynn must’ve spoken to Eduma. But why didn’t she tell me?
She did. The realization is a smack in the face.
I use “Honorate Sixmen” and “Mister Sixmen” interchangeably—she didn’t.
“Mister Sixmen came to see me last year. I thought I was finally getting out of here.”
It wasn’t Selva who came to see her. It was Flynn, his son, who was slowly piecing it together. Like me, he questioned her about the day his mother disappeared and came to the same conclusion I did—that his father murdered his mother. Then he got to work getting even.
“Mom, you conspired to kill an Honorate?” says Luc.
Yelina shakes her head. “No.”
I shove the magic toward her as soon as I feel it, scalding her. Yelina flinches and snaps a hand over her arm.
Luc’s eyes fly to the red, raised skin. “You’re lying.”
She winces. “I didn’t kill anyone. Flynn poisoned Arliss and forced Selva to resign from the Honorate. He planned to kill Selva too, but he wanted to destroy him first by taking him out of the Honorate.”
“Why did he kill Arliss?”
Yelina’s eyes narrow on Kaidren. “Because of him.”
“Me?” Kaidren has been silently following the exchange with increasingly raised brows. “What does this have to do with me?”
“You’re Opheran. After you announced yourself as Arliss’s son, Flynn was worried Arliss would go hunting for another and figure out that he already had a Virdeian heir. If he had, he would have tried to claim Flynn instead of you.”
“What does it matter? He’s older than me. He’s an Honorate either way.”
“If everyone knew he was Arliss’s son, he would be a bastard, he’d start his career on the back of a scandal, and he’d be the son of a lecherous adulterer. Where is the honor in that?”
I can’t believe what I’m hearing. “All this to avoid a scandal?”
Yelina waves it off. “Arliss was already dying anyway.”
I like Flynn. At least, I did. It’s hard to think of him as someone so conniving and vain.
But that’s because I’m thinking of him as the brave soldier with the heart of gold.
Like everyone else, I bought into the illusion.
The truth is, he’s an Honorate. As obsessed with honor and legacy as the rest of them.
Their plot might have worked. Except Yelina didn’t count on me and Kaidren.
If Kaidren hadn’t found the shopkeep who proved Flynn guilty, her plan to frame me would’ve been successful.
If I hadn’t been plotting to steal a throne she wanted as a permanent fixture for Luc, Virdei would’ve easily countered Petruvia’s attack.
I inadvertently ruined her plans, and she inadvertently ruined mine.
I take a heavy breath, trying to think. Petruvia is here, knocking on the doors to Widow’s Hall, attempting to topple us. Unless we can find a way to end this war before it begins.
“What’s Petruvia’s goal, Yelina?” I ask.
She scowls at the floor, refusing to look at me. “To take over Virdei, obviously.”
I nod slowly, processing our options. To do that, they’d want to kill as many members of the Honorate as they could. And the Praeceptor. They’ll be desperate to find and kill Luc to bring Virdei to its knees.
I perk up as an idea comes to me. I know how we can stop this. “Someone get a member of the decurio.”
“Why?” says Luc. “What are you thinking?”
“We need to convince the Petruvian army that you and all the Honorate are being secured in the arena.”
“What will that do?”
“Lure them in so we can trap them inside,” I say. “I have a plan. First, we’re going to need tshira—a lot of it. Then we’re going to need to gather as many people as we can in the ballroom.”