Chapter 42 Thyra
Chapter Forty-Two
Thyra
Antony’s mother was murdered?
My heart hurts, and my stomach churns. “He told me his father killed the Vividari.”
Cassia’s face is blank, expressionless. “Our father ensured the Vividari were butchered.”
“But how…?” I struggle to comprehend how it could have happened. “How could any soldier carry out a command like that when the Vividari kept your kingdom safe?”
“Oh, no Iron Fae would ever touch a Vividari.” Cassia’s face is pale, her grimace brutal.
“Our fucking insane father went into the bloodlands, captured a vampyr, and set it loose on the tribe. That starving creature tore through the tribe so savagely that their starlight power couldn’t repel it.
When its work was done, Father killed it.
Heroically, of course.” Her lips twist. “What a tragedy he didn’t get there in time to save the tribe. ”
My hand claws at my heart. I find myself recalling every moment that Antony spoke of vampyrs.
Every moment when he talked about his father.
The way he demanded that I break the curse, the unyielding determination in his eyes.
And finally, the way he told me not to look away right before darkness spread across the sky.
Don’t look away.
I can’t hear him in the other room, but he has the ability to move so quietly, he could be pacing furiously, and I wouldn’t know. I’m also certain that, if he chooses to listen, he can hear every word we say.
Cassia lowers herself onto the bench beside the dress, seeming not to care about the other clothing she sits on.
She rests her palm on the dress, a reverent touch. “Her name was Aeliana Vividari. She was more powerful than any Vividari before her, but she wasn’t conceited or cruel. She was kind. Far, far too good for a man like our father.”
Cassia clears her throat. “My mother, the woman who now sits at the head of the Starlit Court, her name is Galla Vividari. Our father took Galla as his mistress a mere day after Antony was born. He didn’t hide his affair, and worse, he refused to allow Aeliana to go back to her family.
He kept her here in this fucking Constellation, taunting her, belittling her—”
Cassia’s voice chokes, and now her entire body is tense, her fingers scrunching in the silver material before she takes another deep breath and relaxes her hand.
“Victor was born barely nine months after Antony. He was illegitimate. Hadrian and I were, too. When Aeliana was killed, our father took Galla as his second wife, legitimizing us.”
“How old were you,” I ask quietly, “when Aeliana was killed?”
“I was nine. Antony was eleven. It happened not long after the Ember Fae attacked Victor. It was a terrible time.”
She runs her hand along the silver material again, gentle sweeps now, her face downcast.
“You miss her,” I say, waiting for Cassia to deny it.
“Aeliana was always kind to me. Never hateful, even though she could have been. I sensed the pain in her eyes when she looked at me, but I was too young to understand it at the time. I understand now.”
Cassia raises her eyes to mine. “Antony calls Galla Mother because she hates it.”
I recall every twist of Antony’s lips when he uses that word, even the derision in his tone when he refers to ‘our mother’ while conversing with his siblings.
“Mother wanted this material for her coronation,” Cassia says.
“She intended to deconstruct the dress and use its threads for her own gown. Antony hid it from her for as long as he could, but when he feared she’d find it, he gave it to me and asked me to burn it.
He wanted to make sure Galla could never get her hands on it. ”
No wonder Antony said that wearing this dress wouldn’t be wise.
Cassia’s green eyes suddenly burn with a fire I wasn’t expecting. “If you wear even a shred of this material, Mother will recognize it.”
Her dark smile grows. “You should do it. If you present yourself publicly in this gown, dressed like a fucking Lethian Queen, it will drive her crazy. She won’t be able to do a thing about it. For once, someone can beat her at her own game.”
I take a sharp breath. “You hate her.”
“Of course I hate her!” Cassia’s eyes fill with startling tears. “She takes everything good, steals everything, and even the things that should be precious are degraded and—”
Her expression shuts off. She shakes herself. Swipes at her cheeks. Takes a deep breath before she rises to her feet, leaving the dress where it lies. “It’s up to you. Antony made it clear I’m to do as you ask, so make a choice, Thyra.”
She stalks to the door, where she pauses. “You can wash up in the bathing room. Come out once you’re dressed. I’ll fix your hair and find a way to cover those bruises.”
With that, she steps outside and pushes the shelves back into place behind her, leaving them open only a small crack, so I’m not fully shut in.
Taking deep breaths, I kneel in front of the dress, my hands hovering in the air above it, unable to touch it.
It’s far too beautiful to be worn. Carries too much pain and loss.
Of course, I can’t dismiss Cassia’s suggestion. I can’t ignore the strategy in wearing this gown, assuming it even fits me. To present myself to Galla Vividari wearing a dress she coveted would be like declaring I’m above her, that I stand higher than she could ever reach.
But I also can’t dismiss Antony’s pain. Or even Cassia’s, for that matter. This priceless material must have been passed down through generations, from one Queen to the next, from one death to the next, eons of hope, love, and then…loss.
I can’t ignore that the last monarch to wear this dress was important to both of them.
Or that her death changed the course of their lives.
If Aeliana were still alive to keep the kingdom safe each night, Galla would not have the power she does.
I have no doubt Galla would have been as complicit in Aeliana’s death as the former king. Yesterday, I wondered what could have broken Antony so badly that he’d believe I would choose pain as long as others suffered, too.
Well, now I know.
I consider the simple black pants and overskirt, both lying over the side of the bench. The corset has ended up underneath the dress, but I can’t bring myself to disturb the silver material yet, so I leave the corset where it is for now.
I make a decision: The black clothing will have to do.
Having resolved myself, I head to the bathroom to wash up, spying a pile of fresh bloomers on a shelf along the way. I have no hesitation in taking a pair. Cassia’s taller than me, but has a similar build, and there are so many pairs she can’t miss one.
The entry into the bathing room is wide open. No door. I quickly slip off my dirty clothing—boots and pants, along with Antony’s tunic, my own bloomers, and my soft corset—before I reach for a cloth, dampen it, and prepare to wash quickly with it.
I’ve barely started when Cassia’s quiet voice floats in from the other room, audible enough that she must be standing on the other side of the shelves.
“Brother, about the dress—”
“I meant what I said, Cassia.” His response is hard. “The past is gone. Protecting Thyra is all I care about now.”
There’s a moment of silence. “Actually, you said preparing Thyra was your focus, but who am I to point out the difference?”
His response is a wordless snarl, but it seems Cassia’s willing to let it go because she continues, even more quietly, “You didn’t break the curse last night.”
“A curse as powerful as this one can’t be broken so quickly.”
Her voice sounds hopeful. “But you’ve made a start?”
“Of course.”
Damn. His lie pricks me. I haven’t started anywhere. My first crucial step was understanding that there is a curse and how it came to be.
When Antony takes me to the library today, I want to read everything I can about curses, how they’re broken, as well as all the information I can find about the False Queen. There has to be a way to break this curse and free myself from the blade.
“All of the pieces need to come together,” Antony continues smoothly. “It won’t happen without time and care.”
“Well, can you tell me—?”
“No.” There’s a pause. “Cassia, you’re my sister, and I love you, but I’m not telling you anything that could get you killed.”
She gives a quiet sigh. “Okay. But you do have the blade, yes? I managed to sneak into the forge to see Victor last night, and he didn’t think you had the blade, but I’m sure I saw it at the village. Thyra was holding it.”
“I have the blade,” Antony replies. “It’s hidden.”
Not a lie.
She responds with, “Okay, then. Don’t tell me anything more about it.”
Antony seems happy to change the subject. “Yesterday, you said there was something you needed to tell me about your encounter with Maxim.”
Cassia’s voice sounds more troubled now. “It was strange. He had me in his grasp. His fist was literally around my throat, and then he just went…blank.”
“Blank?”
“It was as though, suddenly, he wasn’t there anymore.
His mind was somewhere else. His hand loosened, I smacked him across the head, and he fell to his knees.
He didn’t even retaliate. I made it all the way back to Fortuna before he seemed to come back to himself.
I swear there was something wrong with him. ”
I’ve paused, my senses prickling. I’m not entirely sure about the timing of the Ember King’s interaction with Cassia, but it would have been around the time Antony and I were in the forge.
I had a blade vision that left me breathless. In that vision, a rope made of flames had wrapped around my waist, burning across the iron dust already coating my body…
Catching my breath, I listen carefully for Antony’s reaction, his silence stretching until he finally says, “I don’t have an explanation.”
Cassia’s next statement is a strained whisper. “If he hadn’t blanked out, I’d be dead now. He really had me—”
“Look at me.” Antony’s command is harsh. “You’re alive.”
I imagine her shaking her head. “Taking him on was so fucking stupid.”