EIGHT #3
Hey, I promise to not become mad with power and nearly destroy the world? I don’t think they’re going to accept that on my word alone.
My eyes lift, and I find myself looking directly at Queen Selestina.
She gives me the slightest smile, wiping it from her face before anyone else can see.
“There has been enough death today.” The finality in her tone suggests that even she knows we are not equals here.
She is the queen, and we are beneath her.
The high vesper leans down to whisper something in her ear, and she nods.
“We will not presume to understand what the Stars intend. Not until we’ve studied them.
In the meantime, Lady … Arden will be protected. ”
“We’ll leave for Damalis first thing in the morning,” Broderic says, rising to his feet.
“You can’t think she’ll be allowed to leave with you.” Patron Calix shakes his head. “She stays here—in custody—where people can keep an eye on her.”
Broderic slams a fist onto the table, so hard that the wood groans. “She has done nothing wrong.”
“Then she has nothing to fear,” Patron Calix says with a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “Can you be certain that she’s not a witch? She’s marked by their order.”
“You forget the witches stood with us once,” Patron Leontia says quietly. “None of us would be here without them.”
“You know as well as I do that they—”
“We know very little about what happened to them,” Queen Selestina interrupts. “Perhaps we should ask Arden what she wants.” She gives me a subtle nod.
I want this nightmare to be over. Next to me, Broderic relaxes slightly. Leontia. The queen. They’re on our side. But Calix and Velesont? They’re not looking at me anymore. They’re watching my brother.
“I want …” What do I want? I shoot a panicked look at Bishop. “What I want is …”
“She wants to come home, obviously,” Broderic says impatiently.
“Do you really think that’s the best idea?” Bishop asks him, his eyes on mine.
He’s not asking my brother. The question is meant for me.
It’s his job to see the violence in men, to anticipate it.
Or maybe it just speaks to what runs in his own veins.
He nods slightly as if he knows what I’m thinking.
He is not my friend, nor my ally. He is an instrument of justice.
He is a wolf with teeth that will protect me until he’s ordered to bite.
“Arden?” the queen prompts.
And suddenly, I know what I have to do. The decision slices into my heart like a knife. Whatever future I’d dreamed of for myself was traded when I set that oscen free. But I won’t let it take away anyone else’s.
I can’t go home, if Damalis is still my home. We have no security. Kieren isn’t even really trained. He can use his sword but only because it is sharp. And men like Patrons Velesont and Calix have means. They never cared about a vote. They decided my fate in the throne room.
I don’t have a choice. Not really. Not if I want to protect my family.
“Arden,” Broderic whispers. “It will be okay. No one in the village will care.”
What a beautiful, hopeful delusion.
I hate the other patrons for making me do this. I hate Bishop for forcing me to see the truth. I hate the Stars for cursing me. Mostly, I hate myself for what I’m about to say. But if I don’t burn this bridge, Broderic’s stubborn pride might get all of us killed.
My eyes shutter, and I take a deep breath.
“I’m not an Icaros. Not anymore.” The words shred me, more painful than when the Stars doomed me to this moment.
But I take that pain and transform it. I reach for its darkness, and in its shadows, I find something useful.
Rage. I let it flow into my voice, let its fire transform me into something brutal and unyielding.
“I don’t belong in Damalis. You all saw the truth. The Stars have spoken.”
“Arden, of course you belong with us. We’re your family.” Broderic reaches for me.
I shake off his touch and turn my anger on him.
I twist it into something cruel and smug and pray that my voice doesn’t break.
“I never asked to be born to Order Icaros.” No, that was a gift I no longer deserve.
“I never asked to be shackled to a farm, cleaning up pig shit and digging in the dirt.” Making things grow.
Spending the afternoon with the sun on my back.
Chasing down cattle with Kieren and then scolding Andry for leaving a gate unlatched.
Broderic shakes his head. “You don’t mean that.”
No. No. No. Take me home to Damalis. Erase this mark from my skin. Let me pretend this never happened. That’s what I want.
But that’s also what I can never have if I’m going to keep them safe. For him, for all of them, I have to do this. If I don’t, my brother will fight to keep me safe—with his last breath.
“I don’t want to be a poor nobody.” I say the things I saw on his face before the feast. I channel the resentment I heard in his voice. “Go home, Broderic. I’m sure the Stars have better things planned for me.”
“You can’t possibly believe—”
“Of course I do.” Stop talking me out of this. “You said it yourself earlier. I acted like my birthright was a punishment, because I thought it was. I thought it was going to force me to stay there, to live a life stuck in the middle of nowhere.”
Broderic flinches, his head shaking slightly. He opens his mouth.
So I deliver one final blow. “And now I won’t have to marry someone for their money.”
The look on his face—it’s the same as the day Dad died. I force myself to keep staring at him until he turns away.
“Well,” Queen Selestina says quietly, “I suppose that’s settled.”
“Is it?” Patron Velesont asks as he leans forward on his cane, but there’s something new gleaming in his eyes. It’s as wicked as before, but it makes my skin crawl in a different way, like I’ve walked through a spider’s web and the silk is still clinging to my skin. “Where will she go?”
“Planning to adopt her?” Bishop asks him gruffly. “How charitable.” But he shoots a look at the queen.
She hesitates just long enough for me to see her determination waver. “She will stay here, for the time being,” she tacks on like the thought unnerves her. Then she rises, and all the patrons quickly follow. “If you’ll excuse me, I’d like to rest. I have a funeral to arrange in the morning.”
The high vesper moves beside her, whispering with a comforting smile as they leave the room.
My legs are unsteady as I turn to leave, but I’m unable to resist glancing at Broderic. He’s staring at the floor like I broke him. Something cracks in my chest, threatening to spill out, and I take a quick step away from the table.
Bishop appears at my side and grips my elbow, guiding me toward the door. I wait for my brother to follow.
He doesn’t.
“He believed you,” Bishop whispers when we’re out of the room.
“Maybe because I was telling the truth.” I can only sell the lie if I’m willing to keep pretending. This is the price of my birthright. Maybe I am the harbinger. Maybe I was sent to destroy everyone, starting with myself.