Blayne was evil. What he had tried to do to Ella, the way he had treated me when he thought I was just a distraction…
I had known all along. I had known, and then I had looked the other way. Because the black wolf had dressed up like a white lamb. And the fool that I was, I had seen the wolf become the lamb and never bothered to wonder whether the one was still the other. Because a person couldn’t ever be good and evil at once.
Little girl, don’t you know? The world is made up of shades of grey.
I was one of the few people who had served on that mission to Caltoth, and I was the only one who had seen Tamora at the stands in Montfort. I had even seen the way the Caltothian ambassador looked at her and the prince. No one else could have added up those two clues but me.
I had condemned my little brother to death. My family was right to hate me. I hated me.
The pain I had suffered after his death: the agony, the torment, the rage, and self-flagellation. The guilt.
It was nothing compared to this moment now.
But it was also different. Because this time I couldn’t be a victim. I couldn’t be the little girl who shut out the world. I couldn’t break apart any longer. I had to do something. And I knew exactly what I had to do.
I had to keep Darren and Marius from finding out the rebels’ identity. Blayne had given them orders to investigate, and it would be my mission to sabotage.
I had to find the proof the rebels were looking for. Anything I could use to prevent a war.
I had to gather as much information as I could. My position in the Crown granted me access to things that would raise questions were it anyone else. I had proven my loyalty time and time again—even Blayne had agreed with Darren. I was not a rebel; I was not a threat. But I was now.
I had to convince the Pythian ambassador not to honor the alliance with Jerar. He had seen me try to save his niece, he had respected my negotiations—he would have to convince King Joren.
And then. Then I had to find a way to stop the king of Jerar.
My fist closed around the dagger. The casting had appeared at a moment’s notice.
I could kill him now. Darren wouldn’t be able to stop me. He wouldn’t be on his guard. He wouldn’t be able to save his brother…
A rage was boiling in the pit of my stomach and spewing to the surface, deadly tendrils of anger piercing at my ribs. My fist clenched the blade so tightly that blood had started to slip down my wrist. Small splatters of red against the skirts of my dress.
It would be so easy. I could do it now.
But I couldn’t. For the same reason Blayne couldn’t kill me.
Darren.
Darren didn’t know about any of this. He didn’t know what his brother had done. He didn’t know what Blayne was capable of. He didn’t know his brother had set fire to the world. Just so he could watch it burn.
All he knew was he loved him. That he had watched his older brother suffer blow after blow, and that he had been the one to save him. King Lucius had raised Darren as Blayne’s right hand.
As twisted as the king might have been, he had been wise beyond his years. The best way to preserve the throne was to encourage unswerving loyalty in the other, and what better way to unite two brothers than through terror and hate? Like his eldest, Lucius had planned their relationship all along.
Preserving his son’s reign.
And perhaps, perhaps Lucius had even seen it coming. From a tyrant, another tyrant had been born.
That day I had begged and pleaded for my brother, hoping beyond hope Blayne wasn’t his father.
Blayne was crueler.
I should have been hoping it was his father, and not Blayne, staring back.
****
The ladies-in-waiting returned for finishing touches before the ceremony began. Pollina was aghast to see the fresh stains on my skirts and my fist.
I told them I fell. That the bones of the corset had been too tight. After all, they had found me on the floor. The tears in my eyes? Just from losing my breath.
I was nothing more than an anxious girl before she married the boy of her dreams.
Even though inside I was nothing but screams.
You will lose him.
As soon as the thought entered my mind, I knew it was true.
I couldn’t tell him. Even if Darren believed me, he would insist on confronting his brother. And his brother was king. Blayne would have me beheaded at a moment’s notice. I might stand a chance against a small collective of mages, but an army?
And what proof did I have? Nothing. I had no papers, no witness, nothing but a memory of a little girl with a slip of yellow ribbon in her hair.
Darren had never seen that little girl in the stands. He’d only seen the ambassador.
Everything else was a miles-long conclusion that would sound like the ranting of a madwoman determined to clear her brother’s name.
And Blayne was his brother. Darren wouldn’t be able to keep a secret or turn against him. Even when I had believed Derrick capable of putting thousands of future lives at risk, I had still let him escape. I had still chosen him.