Charynite’s throat.
‘Give me your sword, Aldron,’ his queen ordered, her voice so cold.
‘Isaboe,’ Tesadora hissed. ‘Let her go. You’re hurting her.’
‘Aldron,’ Isaboe repeated. ‘Give me your sword.’
‘What’s happening here?’ Lucian demanded. Aldron unsheathed his weapon and placed it in Isaboe’s hand. In an instant his cousin had the blade pressed under the girl’s chin.
‘Isaboe, let her go!’ Tesadora cried, stepping forward, but Aldron held her back.
Lucian couldn’t see Isaboe’s face, but he saw the girl’s expression. With the blade to her neck, she was petrified. He reached out a hand to Isaboe’s shoulder, but she shrugged it away.
‘I was one of five children,’ she said, speaking Charyn to the girl. ‘I want you to know that before you die. I want you to know their names. Evestalina. Rosemond. Jasmina. Balthazar. My mother’s name was Tilda. My father’s name was Carles. Onthe day he died, my brother Balthazar got in trouble for lying about breaking a vase in the reading room. My father said he was ashamed of him and so my brother went to his death thinking he had lost the King’s respect.’
Lucian heard her voice break.
‘My sister Rosemond … we called her Rosie, she carved her name on the cherry-tree trunk in my mother’s garden, declaring her love for one of my father’s guards who later died in the prison mines of Sorel. I want you to think of them when you’re choking on your own blood, Quintana of Charyn.’
Lucian’s pulse pounded to hear the name. Aldron stared at him, having no idea of the Queen’s plan.
‘Isaboe!’ Tesadora said, her voice desolate. ‘Do not do this. It will break your spirit.’
With her hand still pressed against the girl’s throat and the weapon still in place, Isaboe looked back at Tesadora.
‘My spirit was broken long ago, Tesadora. And it was broken again yesterday when Vestie told me about your deceit. While I was begging you to come spend time with me, you were playing nursemaid to the daughter of the man who ordered my family’s slaughter.’
Isaboe turned back to the girl. ‘Did you think you could find refuge in my valley, filthy Charynite?’
Tesadora struggled in Aldron’s arms. Lucian knew that nothing would stop the Queen. Wasn’t this exactly what Finnikin and Trevanion and Perri were doing in Charyn? Wasn’t this something they all had sanctioned?
But it was horror Lucian felt when he saw Isaboe raise the blade to strike. The girl’s scream was hoarse and full of rage and fear. The sound of it would ring in Lucian’s ears for days to come. And just as Isaboe went to use the sword, something came flying out at them from the copse of trees.
‘
No!
’
The voice made his knees almost buckle.
Phaedra?
Lucian watched, stunned, as Phaedra threw herself at Isaboe. And then it all happened so fast and he did what he was taught to do in battle … when his queen was under attack. He acted on instinct. Lucian didn’t hesitate. Not for a single moment. His father’s sword was in his hand, pressed against the throat of his wife. He knew he’d kill anyone who was a threat to his queen. He knew he would kill Phaedra of Alonso. But Phaedra was on her knees gripping the blade of Isaboe’s sword and pressing it to her own chest. Lucian could see its sharpness cutting into his wife’s hands. Until they dripped with blood.
‘Kill me,’ she pleaded, her head pressed against Isaboe’s knees. ‘I’m begging, Your Majesty. Kill me. Please. If you want to avenge anyone, kill me. I’m a lastborn and daughter of a Provincaro. Ride through Charyn and take every lastborn girl to exact your revenge. But not her, Your Majesty. Charyn will cease to exist without her. We are nothing without the babe she carries.’
Lucian watched Isaboe shudder. Even Tesadora was speechless at the sight of Phaedra.
‘They don’t stay dead, these Charynites, do they?’ he heard Isaboe say, her voice so foreign to him.
‘Give me your sword, Aldron,’ his queen ordered, her voice so cold.
‘Isaboe,’ Tesadora hissed. ‘Let her go. You’re hurting her.’
‘Aldron,’ Isaboe repeated. ‘Give me your sword.’
‘What’s happening here?’ Lucian demanded. Aldron unsheathed his weapon and placed it in Isaboe’s hand. In an instant his cousin had the blade pressed under the girl’s chin.
‘Isaboe, let her go!’ Tesadora cried, stepping forward, but Aldron held her back.
Lucian couldn’t see Isaboe’s face, but he saw the girl’s expression. With the blade to her neck, she was petrified. He reached out a hand to Isaboe’s shoulder, but she shrugged it away.
‘I was one of five children,’ she said, speaking Charyn to the girl. ‘I want you to know that before you die. I want you to know their names. Evestalina. Rosemond. Jasmina. Balthazar. My mother’s name was Tilda. My father’s name was Carles. Onthe day he died, my brother Balthazar got in trouble for lying about breaking a vase in the reading room. My father said he was ashamed of him and so my brother went to his death thinking he had lost the King’s respect.’
Lucian heard her voice break.
‘My sister Rosemond … we called her Rosie, she carved her name on the cherry-tree trunk in my mother’s garden, declaring her love for one of my father’s guards who later died in the prison mines of Sorel. I want you to think of them when you’re choking on your own blood, Quintana of Charyn.’
Lucian’s pulse pounded to hear the name. Aldron stared at him, having no idea of the Queen’s plan.
‘Isaboe!’ Tesadora said, her voice desolate. ‘Do not do this. It will break your spirit.’
With her hand still pressed against the girl’s throat and the weapon still in place, Isaboe looked back at Tesadora.
‘My spirit was broken long ago, Tesadora. And it was broken again yesterday when Vestie told me about your deceit. While I was begging you to come spend time with me, you were playing nursemaid to the daughter of the man who ordered my family’s slaughter.’
Isaboe turned back to the girl. ‘Did you think you could find refuge in my valley, filthy Charynite?’
Tesadora struggled in Aldron’s arms. Lucian knew that nothing would stop the Queen. Wasn’t this exactly what Finnikin and Trevanion and Perri were doing in Charyn? Wasn’t this something they all had sanctioned?
But it was horror Lucian felt when he saw Isaboe raise the blade to strike. The girl’s scream was hoarse and full of rage and fear. The sound of it would ring in Lucian’s ears for days to come. And just as Isaboe went to use the sword, something came flying out at them from the copse of trees.
‘
No!
’
The voice made his knees almost buckle.
Phaedra?
Lucian watched, stunned, as Phaedra threw herself at Isaboe. And then it all happened so fast and he did what he was taught to do in battle … when his queen was under attack. He acted on instinct. Lucian didn’t hesitate. Not for a single moment. His father’s sword was in his hand, pressed against the throat of his wife. He knew he’d kill anyone who was a threat to his queen. He knew he would kill Phaedra of Alonso. But Phaedra was on her knees gripping the blade of Isaboe’s sword and pressing it to her own chest. Lucian could see its sharpness cutting into his wife’s hands. Until they dripped with blood.
‘Kill me,’ she pleaded, her head pressed against Isaboe’s knees. ‘I’m begging, Your Majesty. Kill me. Please. If you want to avenge anyone, kill me. I’m a lastborn and daughter of a Provincaro. Ride through Charyn and take every lastborn girl to exact your revenge. But not her, Your Majesty. Charyn will cease to exist without her. We are nothing without the babe she carries.’
Lucian watched Isaboe shudder. Even Tesadora was speechless at the sight of Phaedra.
‘They don’t stay dead, these Charynites, do they?’ he heard Isaboe say, her voice so foreign to him.
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