CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE
EVERY LIE I’VE EVER TOLD
There are no survivors.
Hours after the flames have subsided and the screams have died, decurio continue to sift through the wreckage. There are no signs of life.
The only Petruvian soldiers who made it out of the invasion with their lives were the ones not in the arena. They fled down the mountain once they heard the screams. We later received word that they took hostages as they ran—their only leverage in the war they just started.
It takes two days for the sky carts to work again.
In that time, I help Luc with damage control.
We assess the number of fallen Virdeian soldiers, take inventory of how much tshira we used in the invasion, and prepare medical units to tend to the wounded.
All soldiers. So far, there have been no reported civilian injuries.
As soon as the sky carts are working again, Kaidren and I take one to the base of the mountain. To Aja.
Except when I knock on her front door, heart sitting in my throat, she doesn’t answer.
A foreboding chill crawls up the back of my neck.
We try asking around, but those in neighboring houses all have the same story: They haven’t seen Aja in three days. Since the invasion.
Kaidren tries to comfort me. He hugs me and murmurs meaningless assurances in my ear as we return to Widow’s Hall. I ignore him.
I saw Aja the morning of the invasion. I sent her away. She was supposed to return to Ophera so I could find her later. She didn’t. Kaidren means well, but I know what her absence means, even if he can’t admit it.
She never made it down the mountain.
I storm into Luc’s office.
“Mira.” Luc gives me a disapproving frown. He sits across from General Fain. They both look up, shocked at the intrusion. “I’m in the middle of a meeting.”
“It’s an emergency. General, can I speak with you?”
They exchange looks.
For a moment, I think Luc’s going to refuse, but when he meets my gaze and really looks at me, his expression shifts from irritated to concerned. He nods.
I shift my wild, frantic eyes to General Fain. “When were the sky carts grounded during the invasion?”
He tilts his head to the side, confused by the question. “Just before the coronation.”
It takes about an hour to get down the mountain. Aja was in my room half an hour before the carts were grounded. “What about any carts already in the air?”
“I think they were brought back to Widow’s Hall. The passengers were taken to safety here.”
“You think?”
He raises his brows, no doubt not appreciating my harsh tone. “That’s what they were instructed to do.”
I want to be relieved, but I’m not. If Aja was in a sky cart and brought back to Widow’s Hall, we would have found each other by now. “Did you hear anything about any Opherans during the invasion?”
“Just you, Miss Kyler,” he says dryly. “You’re the only Opheran who lives in Widow’s Hall, and the only one invited to the coronation.”
I already know this. “Were there any Opheran civilians found outside?”
“No. Any civilians outside above the Collar were brought into Widow’s Hall for protection.”
The panic I fought so hard to keep down rises now. Aja wasn’t brought into Widow’s Hall during the attack. Of this, I’m certain. “What if someone was caught outside Widow’s Hall? What if they were never brought inside?”
“I’m not sure. It’s possible they took refuge in a nearby home. Or perhaps were taken hostage. We haven’t sorted out who is missing yet. Or . . .” The General stops.
“Or what?” But I already know what he’s thinking.
“Or it’s possible they were swept into the arena.”
I heard those screams. I watched those flames.
The memory will forever haunt my nightmares. The thought of my mother’s voice being among them is too horrifying to contemplate.
“Mira?” Luc is watching my expression. “What’s wrong?”
“I need to speak with you,” I say quietly. It’s my only defense against the pressing urge to wail. “Privately.”
This time, he doesn’t hesitate. He politely excuses the General and motions for me to sit across from him.
I don’t.
“The Opheran I was asking about is Aja.”
“What?” Luc couldn’t look more stunned if he tried. “Aja is dead.”
“She’s not.” I can’t look at him. “I lied.”
“What the hell, Mira?” He’s on his feet, coming closer to me. “Why would you lie about something like that?”
“We were dying.” My throat burns, so my words are a croak. “She was going to starve.”
“You didn’t have to lie. Not to me.”
I want to laugh at the absurdity, but he’s not joking. “Do you honestly think your father would have even considered taking me in if he didn’t think she was dead? Would you?”
“Of course I would.” He speaks fiercely, but as soon as the words are out of his mouth, he winces. “I would have tried.”
“Until your father inevitably refused and you rolled over and let it go. Like you always do.” My eyes are stinging with angry, bitter tears. “You only agreed to take me in because you thought I had nothing. Anything more than that, and you’d have let me rot.”
“Mira—”
“Don’t. Don’t pretend you care.”
He comes closer. He wants to hug me, I can tell, but he resists. Instead, he puts a hand lightly on my shoulder. “You’re my sister. Of course I care.”
Maybe it’s because I’m tired. Or maybe it’s because I’ve cried so much in the past week, I’m bereft of tears, and all that’s left is anger.
Or maybe it’s because I think my mother might be dead, and I think it might be my fault, and I’ve never hated anything as much as I do myself right now.
Whatever the reason, for the first time, I let myself glare at my brother and speak my mind.
“Oh, sure. You care. You care when you need something. You care when it suits you. But when I ask you for anything, I am always on my own.”
Each word out of my mouth makes him flinch, but I’ve only just started.
“My entire life has revolved around you. Getting you whatever you need. Preparing you for whatever you can’t handle on your own. But anything I ask of you that requires you to be uncomfortable, you refuse.”
He looks more wounded than he has a right to. “I said I was sorry.”
“Which time are you talking about? It happens all the time. You constantly leave me to fend for myself. What makes it worse is that I know you. You are kind. You’re kind to strangers. You’re kind when you need to be firm. But when it comes to me, there’s never anything left.”
Luc’s hand slips from my shoulder, as if he can sense how useless and empty the gesture is. “It’s not because I don’t care. It’s because you’re strong. You’ve never needed me to defend you.”
I laugh harshly.
It’s what Aja said, right before she left. “You don’t need me anymore.”
It’s not true. I’ve needed a mother like I’ve needed a brother. “You think I like fighting my own battles? I do it because I have to. Because you never did.”
Luc’s eyes shine with unshed tears. “I begged him to take you in. Before I even met you. As soon as I knew you existed, I wanted to be your family. Dad refused. You’re right, I should’ve fought harder.
I wish I did. But when I learned that you’d come here saying Aja had died, and he threw you out, I threatened him.
I told him I’d tell anyone who listened about the bastard child he left to die in the streets, and it would cost him everything. ”
I’ve never heard this part of the story. I wish I cared. “Do you want me to thank you?”
Now he does hug me. “You don’t have to thank me,” he says into my hair. “Just talk to me. Tell me what you need.”
I swallow. “Aja came to see me before the coronation. I sent her away. She would have been in a sky cart when the invasion started. She either burned in that arena, or she was taken hostage.”
Luc looks uncomfortable. “There’s a third option. You don’t want to hear this, but—”
I stop him before he can finish the thought. “She’s not dead.”
“Mira.” His voice is aggravatingly soft. He means it to be gentle, but all I hear is condescension. “There was a war. People died.”
I move away from him. “There weren’t any civilian deaths.”
“Not yet. But we’re still looking.”
My eyes harden. “She’s not dead. I’m going to find her.”
Luc pauses for several seconds. I watch a thousand considerations flit through his mind. He wants to argue, but he must see the futility because finally, slowly, he nods. Doubt lingers in his expression, but it’s joined by resolve. “Then let me help. You don’t have to do this alone.”
He’s being earnest, but we’ve done this dance before.
I fold my arms. “We’ll search in Virdei first, but if that doesn’t work, I’m looking farther.
Even if she’s in Petruvia,” I say. “You either agree to help me no matter what, or you don’t.
But if you agree, I’m going to hold you to it. No half measures this time.”
He wants to object. As of two days ago, we’re at war with Petruvia. Finding Aja there will be nearly impossible without bloodshed. But he just told me I’m not in this alone, and he can’t break his word so quickly. He swallows. Then nods, slowly. Reluctantly. “Whatever it takes.”
“You promise me?”
“I swear. I won’t let you down again.” He must read the doubt in my expression because with a soft smile he says, “Do you trust me?”
It’s the first time he’s ever asked that of me. The truth is, I don’t trust him, and he shouldn’t trust me. He still doesn’t know that I caused the invasion, or that his apologies have come too little, and far too late. Or that even now, I’m plotting ways to take the throne from him.
None of that matters. To find Aja, I’ll need the unwavering support of the Praeceptor of Virdei. So, I smile and say, “With every lie I’ll ever tell.”
“Then we’re golden. If she’s alive, we’re going to find her.”
I hug him. All the while thinking of all the secrets I’ve yet to tell him. And all the ones I never will.