Chapter 45 Thyra
Chapter Forty-Five
Thyra
Iprepare to play the most dangerous game of my life.
Everything I’ve learned about Galla Vividari warns me she will go to any lengths to destroy me.
If I break the curse, her power ends.
Cassia might not believe it, but Galla will want me dead at any cost.
If I had any doubt about the truth of what Antony told me, it was banished the moment I heard Galla’s petulant scream, along with the wet splatter of blood across the floor, and the fact that, of all the lords she could punish, she chose Rohan.
I’m not sure what he means to Cassia, but watching her soundlessly scream nearly shattered my heart. I may not love or trust Cassia as Antony appears to, but her pain is real. And it’s eating her up from the inside.
Antony wanted me to wait, but I won’t.
My silver-clad hands smack the door, deliberately loud.
I’m gratified when Galla’s head snaps up across the room, her current kneeling position in front of Rohan forcing her to lean awkwardly to the side to see me.
Within that heartbeat, I take in the rest of the room and the people in it.
The five men who fought us in the air stand with their arms folded across their chests, forming an arc ten paces away at Galla’s back. Their white clothing reveals all the places Azul cut them.
Behind them, five more men, along with ten women, lounge on plush seating facing in my direction, some of them on seats while others are sprawled on large cushions on the floor.
The women have painted faces, pure white with a golden pattern of stars on their cheeks. I recognize Lady Delphina, clearly visible on my far left, but it’s the woman sitting beside her who holds my focus for a split second longer.
She’s the only one without stars painted on her cheeks. I make a quick mental note to ask Antony about her before my attention returns sharply to Galla.
Her hair is a lustrous blonde. Her eyes are bright green. She’s dressed all in white, a trailing shawl attached to each of her shoulders, while her long pants and corset are streaked with blood.
I stride toward her while Antony keeps pace exactly so that the chain between us retains its slack. I’m aware of Cassia following behind him.
It’s only been a heartbeat since I burst into the room.
Taking a deep breath, I prepare for war.
“Galla Vividari!” My voice roars out through the hall. “You will stand in my presence.”
If I learned anything yesterday during my walk through the city, it was that all must kneel in Antony’s presence. Even the five injured lords in the distance are currently making the barest gestures of lowering themselves to the floor.
My command, the opposite of what Galla’s supposed to do, might just rankle her enough that she won’t gather her thoughts fast enough to summon an instant retort.
It works.
Barely giving her a second, I scream, “Do you intend to insult me?”
I make a straight line for her, sweeping my glittering skirt up and away from the blood splatter.
Galla jolts, releasing the whip, which slips to the floor, before she scoots backward, her face pale.
I don’t delude myself that her reaction stems from fear.
She gasps. “That dress—!”
Of course, she would focus on it. She’s pale with clear fury as her green eyes rake down my form.
Ignoring Rohan, I stop in front of her, turning the corners of my mouth down in disgust. “You have something on your face.”
Her hand flutters to her cheek where Rohan’s blood has splattered. “I—”
“In the future, you will not bring blood into my presence.” Repulsion drips from my voice. “It offends me.” In a flash, I focus on Quintus. “Clean this up!”
Galla seems to find her voice, shooting to her feet. “Do not presume to tell my lords what to do. They’re mine to command. Mine!”
I arch my eyebrows at her, waiting for her to realize she has stood up as I commanded.
She tenses, but before she can spit another word, I give her a gracious smile.
“That’s better.” Ignoring her flushing cheeks, no doubt a new surge of anger, I glance around. “What a beautiful room. What beautiful fae you surround yourself with. It would be a shame for you to lose all of this.”
She takes a threatening step toward me. “If you try to steal anything that belongs to me, I’ll make sure you’re offended by the sight of your own blood.”
I laugh. “Oh, darling. I don’t want any of this. Keep your lords and ladies and your beautiful…uh…cushions. I’m only here to warn you about your fate.”
She leans back from me, her head now held at a wary angle. “My fate?”
“Your king didn’t want to alarm you, but I insisted.” I press my hand to my chest. “I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t try to save your precious life.”
Cassia has now stepped into my field of view. Her expression, previously blank, has become worried, her voice quavering as she speaks up, playing along as smoothly as if we’d rehearsed it. “Mother, please listen to the Oracle. We couldn’t bear to lose you.”
Galla’s too cunning not to suspect she’s being tricked, but I’ve planted a seed, and I intend to water it.
She takes a step back, appearing alarmed, but I follow her, not allowing her to increase the distance between her and me.
Lowering my voice, I ask, “Do you wish to live, Galla Vividari?”
Her eyes are wild with uncertainty, and I anticipate she’ll push back as hard as she can, unsurprised when she snaps, “How dare you even—”
“Do you wish to live?”
“Do not presume—”
“Don’t be afraid.” I allow my smile to soften and my left hand to rise, both placating gestures. “There’s no need to fear me.”
She takes a heartbeat to chew on her response, long enough for me to raise my voice to the fae in the room. “I assure you, Galla Vividari, I won’t hurt you.”
Galla gasps. “I’m not afraid of you!”
“Well, that’s good.” I allow a bright smile to break across my face before it vanishes. “But sadly, you should be.”
With a quick exhalation, I flick my hand in her direction. It’s the smallest movement, and I’m not sure if the dress will obey my wishes, but it does.
A single thread spears across the air, unraveling from my forefinger.
Its loose end shoots toward Galla’s heart, and her reflexes are fast enough that she attempts to bat it away.
Which is exactly what I wanted her to do because the thread wraps around her wrist instead, chaining her to me just as I’m chained to Antony.
“How dare you!” she screams.
At the same time, I whisper, “Only a narrow path will keep you alive.”
Her scream ends, and all she must hear is: will keep you alive.
She freezes. Glances at the thread. Her shoulders are so tense that it looks like her bones could snap. She must now wonder what she didn’t hear—what will keep her alive.
Could it be the thread, or me, or something else entirely?
I’m sure she’ll ask her lords and ladies once I leave, but I doubt they heard me over her shriek.
“I’m surprised you’re punishing this one.” I gesture at Rohan, switching tactics and ignoring the way Galla clenches the fist of her restrained arm.
Maybe she wants to scream at her lords to cut the thread. She might even consider pulling on it to try to take more of it. After all, she wanted this dress.
“He was the only one who came close to capturing me.” I point at Quintus and the other four. “Those others… Dear Goddess, what an embarrassment they were to you. I’m not sure how you can bear it.”
Her face drains white again, her fury flashing hot and cold, but I sense she’s already reaching her limit. She’s done with me.
Tugging sharply on the thread, I retract it so fast that it cuts across her skin.
She cries out. “How?”
I arch my eyebrows at her, waiting for a single drop of her blood to fall to the floor before I seek clarification. “How what?”
“How do I die?”
I don’t imagine for a moment that she’s actually afraid, but she’s playing my game now, and that’s all I want.
I suck in my breath before I grimace. “Badly, I’m afraid.”
“How do I stop it?”
I press my finger to my lips as the thread finishes winding back around it, fully returned to me once more. “Well… nothing comes without a cost. How much is your life worth?”
“Whatever you want,” she spits, but again, I have no illusion that she’ll give me anything.
I harden my features and point at Rohan. “Kill him.”
Galla blinks at me. Behind her, several of the ladies gasp. Only one sounds horrified; the others are high-pitched with excitement.
In my periphery, Cassia lurches toward me, but Antony’s arm smacks into her chest, and his snarl keeps her back. He stands on my right while Cassia is now behind me.
Antony has remained silent the entire time, allowing me full control, but given how much he clearly loves Cassia, I’m certain he’ll struggle not to move against me now.
I can’t give him any indication of my true motives.
This game must be played.
Galla barely spares her daughter a glance. She shakes her head at me, a slow movement.
Then she starts laughing, at which her sycophants quickly join in. The lady without stars painted on her face is the last and only one when Galla flashes a look in her direction.
“Oh, Thyra,” Galla says, returning her focus to me. “I thought you were serious.”
I drain every shred of softness from my face, turning the corners of my mouth down again. “Well, clearly you don’t wish to live.”
Galla’s laughter dies. “What?”
“This was a waste of my time.” I step away from her, inclining my head at Antony. “I’m finished here. Your mother doesn’t want my help.”
Galla splutters behind me. “But…”
I turn my back on her and take a deliberate step into Rohan, where he has remained kneeling on the floor, ensuring that the side of my hip knocks his shoulder.
Pulling up sharply, I glare down at him and raise my voice to ensure I’m heard all the way at the back of the hall. “You’re in my way. Move.”
There’s plenty of space in front of me, but I fixate on him.
Rohan’s focus rises to me, the emptiness in his eyes fading so fast, it’s painful to watch.
Without a sound, he rises to his feet, drawing up to his full height, looming over me. He’s as tall as Antony, his chest as broad, and his brown eyes are just as forbidding.
He doesn’t move aside.
“If it’s my death you want, Oracle,” he rumbles, “then make it so.”
I have never looked into the eyes of a fae so caged.
Even on the nights when my father would wake me, telling me we had to run, we always had a way out. Even yesterday, when I decided to stop running, I had a path ahead of me.
I can’t risk revealing even a hint of my true self in front of Galla and her followers, so I keep my voice haughty.
“You must be very loyal to your mistress to offer your life.” And then, without a moment’s hesitation, I gesture to Antony.
“One of the daggers. Or your axe, if you prefer. Since Galla Vividari has no interest in saving her own life, nor clearly any care for the people of this kingdom if she were to perish, I will save her life for her.”
Antony’s eyes, normally so cold, are flooded with confusion, a bad sign. The trust between us is fragile, and now it must seem to him as if I’m breaking that trust, trying to cause more pain.
I prepare to rebuke him so that I can force his hand, harsh words ready on the tip of my tongue, an accusation that he doesn’t care about his kingdom and that he would leave his people in darkness, fodder for vampyrs.
Just as I draw breath to speak, he reaches for the dark-hilted dagger in the holster at his waist, the weapon the assassin tried to use on me last night.
Then, as if he thinks better of it, he draws one of the iron blades he borrowed from his sister instead.
It has a steel hilt that, even without the protection of the Lethian dress, will be safe to hold.
He offers the iron-bladed dagger to me without a word, but I read the threat in his eyes.
His trust will only stretch so far.
As I take the weapon, Cassia pushes against Antony’s other arm, where he continues to restrain her.
But it’s Galla’s voice I listen for. The outburst, I’m certain, she’ll succumb to. My only uncertainty is whether she’ll accompany it with action.
“You will do no such thing!” Her shout is full of fire, but she doesn’t lurch at me or even scream at her lords to stop me.
The seed I planted is sprouting the tiniest roots.
Outwardly, I ignore her.
A glance up at Rohan’s face tells me he’s gone again. Blank. He won’t defend himself.
I draw back my arm and prepare to strike as hard as I can.