She stared off at the wall as if staring through time. There were similarities, for sure, but that also made it feel uncanny to be looking at her. She should’ve looked decades older, but she seemed no older than Briar and me, her true age no doubt hidden by her magic. No wonder she was so unconcerned with her successors. Her dark magic would make her age at a snail’s pace, and I’m guessing she wouldn’t even care at that point.
“Who was it that made you turn toward dark magic?” I whispered, bile rising in my throat. “Who did you kill?”
She arched her narrow brow. “I’ve killed many people.”
“But there had to have been a first. A sorceress is created through death magic,” I said, wincing as I swallowed. “When you cursed my mother, you were already a sorceress, which means you killed someone before . . .” My eyes widened as I thought back to that dusty tome in Taigos. The day Leanna died, another died, too. “You killed your brother, didn’t you?”
She tried to hide her surprise, but I saw it there for a split second—the widening of her eyes, her mouth going slack. How many decades had it been since anyone asked her about this? Since she had even thought about it herself? Did she believe her violent beginnings were lost to time?
“Very good, Princess. I’m somewhat impressed, considering how little you seem to know about your own family.”
“And whose fault is that?” I asked with as much venom as I could muster.
“Touché,” she said with what seemed to be genuine humor. “Yes, my darling brother’s blood was my gateway to this power. I was about to turn sixteen—they were going to send me off to Valta, a country I’d never seen, to marry a man I’d never met.” Sawyn clasped her hands together, staring out the high window at a sliver of blue sky. Her voice was tinged with her own venom as she stared back through time. “Sahandr had to die. Then my parents couldn’t ship their only heir off to the Onyx Wolves.” She rolled her shoulders back, her posture belying the rage in her eyes. “But they didn’t see it that way. They said they could sire more pups, have more sons. They tried to kill me for what I’d done to him.” Her chest rose and fell faster. “And so I disappeared, faked my death, bided my time while I honed my new powers. I thought sorcery would enslave me to its dark magic, but it was what set me free.”
A draft blew in, the breeze tousling the wisps of scarlet hair around her temples. The crazed look on her face seemed equally filled with wrath and joy.
“And then my father was born,” I murmured.
“I had hoped Sameir would be a better man than our father. When my parents died, I went to him, asked him to hand over what was rightfully mine, but he refused.”
“What did you expect? You killed his brother!” I cried, my restraints biting into my wrists. “And you turned into a sorceress! Wolves swore to rid the world of dark magic. Why would he honor the claim of a sorceress and an oath breaker, family or not?”
“Because the crown should’ve been mine,” she seethed, her eyes darkening as static charged the air. “He usurped my throne.” Flashes of green lightning skittered across the ceiling. “Which means my will should have been pack law, and I above such accusations. But no one saw it that way. No one thought a mere woman could be anything but a depository for another Wolf’s pups. And so I showed him just how wrong he—and everyone else—was. You know the story, of course. I believe there are some lovely songs about it.”
I thought about trying to sing at Queen Ingrid’s palace, and how much it had devastated me then. Now, though, I found it oddly gave me strength, because I did know the story—the one Grae pointed out to me wasn’t all darkness and death. Her jibe missing its mark, I asked instead, “Why didn’t you just kill my parents back then?”
“I did something far better.” A grin stretched her thin red lips. “I knew she’d awaken—I wasn’t an idiot to think they weren’t actually true loves. But that wasn’t the real curse.”
“What—what do you mean?”
Sawyn’s delight was almost palpable in the rancid cell. “I didn’t curse Rose, I cursed Rose’s womb. That it—and all that were born from it—would never again produce a male heir.” I gasped, my pulse pounding in my ears, and she continued, savoring my shock. I wondered how long she’d been holding this in, waiting for the day to finally tell someone just how brilliantly evil she was, even as she said, “Then Sameir would know my pain. I thought he’d bow to my power, beg me to undo what I’d done, but he didn’t. Rather, I made him a hero. Those putrid stories and ballads of their love spread into every corner of Aotreas, and when the arrangement with Damrienn was announced, I knew then my error. Instead of my brother mourning his legacy, he would give it to Nero. He’d rather forfeit everything he had to a foreigner than a woman.”
“In the stories . . .” I took another shuddering breath. “They said on the night of our birth you demanded our father bow to you. He said you’d never be queen.”
Sawyn smiled. “He was obviously wrong.”
“Why didn’t you kill Briar in Damrienn?” The image of her splayed red hair across that tomb flashed in my mind—the same red hair as the sorceress who cursed her.
“Because mine will be a long life, and I wouldn’t want to deprive it of entertainment. No, I wanted to see Nero mourn all he had lost and scramble for a way to fix it. I wanted him to come crawling to my kingdom begging for the Crimson Princess’s mate and see me on my throne and know he’d never have it.” Her eyes flashed as lightning crackled. “That is the thing with these arrogant kings. More will just keep coming to take their place. Lessons must be learned. New rules written. I make them understand in the only language they know: through power, through blood, through taking.” The hair on my arms lifted in the charged air. “But then you came along.”
“Apologies for ruining your revenge,” I said. “I was trying to get mine.”
She cackled a sharp laugh. “We are not so different, you and I.”
“We are nothing alike,” I hissed.
“It would make it easier to believe that, wouldn’t it, niece?” She peered at me under her arched brow. “We are wild-hearted and sure-footed and bound to this land, more Queen than Wolf.” Her cheeks dimpled as the blow of her words landed. “Laces itch and ribbons grate. We are not frail or simpering like your sister. We are not the puppets for a king’s glory. We shall know our own glory.”
The air crackled, vibrant bolts of green brightening the room, almost as if she couldn’t contain her magic in her own excitement.
“Is it glorious to know your people are fleeing and dying?” I pushed back. “That they’d risk that quick death to not slowly starve? What of the gold mines?”
“They flee because they don’t trust me as queen,” she hissed.
“I wonder why? Maybe it’s because you’re a murderer!”
“Ah.” She grinned. “But you’re a murderer, too, aren’t you, niece? I saw you in the markets, cutting down my Rooks without batting an eye. The only thing that separates you and me is that you think you’re right.”