“You did it, Aly.” She’d ignored his question for a reason, and he knew he was right. “Everyone’s gonna know the truth.”
The guards rappelled down and approached slowly from all sides. Jethezar led the charge.
“Traitor!” Jeth said, grabbing Aly’s shirt with his sticky fingertips. He was a big guy, and he heaved Aly up to his feet so they were face-to-face. For a split second, Aly saw regret pass over his old friend’s features, just before he spit in Aly’s eye. To a Chram, it was the deepest insult—but it was for show, and Jeth had gone easy on him. Aly’s eye hurt like a choirtoi but at least he still had one. Jeth could’ve blinded him if he’d spit at full velocity.
Jeth pushed him to the ground and kicked him in the stomach. Kara cried for him to stop. The Tasinn watched in amusement. But Aly knew Jeth was doing what he had to do. They were all doing what they had to do. Aly crumpled up in a ball to protect himself from more kicks. His kidneys and ribs were getting pummeled.
Jeth pulled him up to sit, rough, and cuffed him. It was the second time today.
“Sorry,” Jeth whispered, so quietly Aly wasn’t even sure he’d heard it. And then loudly for everyone to hear, like an announcement he’d been dying to make: “Guess where we’re taking you, murderer.”
TWENTY-ONE
RHIANNON
RHEE felt as if she’d been catapulted out of her body, as if she were hovering somewhere in deep space, her lungs seizing—not here, with her feet firmly planted on the temple floor of the order.
“That’s impossible,” a voice that sounded like her voice was saying. “Josselyn died.”
“We had to make a decision.” The Elder folded his hands on his lap. “Your sister was gravely injured, but survived,” he said. “She was taken to Fontis for life-threatening wounds. Seotra swore everyone to secrecy. It was important to protect the heir to the throne under any circumstance, and she was safer if the assassin believed she’d died.”
It was the same reason Rhee had chosen to stay hidden after Nero tried to take her life too.
“My sister,” Rhee repeated again, her mind a cloud—swollen with rain and rage and lightning. She had imagined Josselyn’s death as if she’d been there alongside her when the craft exploded and tore apart in the air. The outside seeping in. Their breath snatched away. It would’ve been painless, Rhee had imagined. It would’ve been sound and fury and then just a dark, quiet end.
Memories assaulted her. She couldn’t think straight. All Rhee could see was their hair, playfully bound together in one long braid so they sat like conjoined twins for nearly an hour. Changing her clothes to match Joss, only for Joss to change them again—a cycle of clothes and crying and copycatting that made Rhee furious. The way Joss loved sensaberries. The way she let Rhee share her bed during a thunderstorm. All along, Josselyn had been alive. It wasn’t fair. This whole time they’d been apart.
“She was the only survivor, but when she stabilized she was sent away to a secret location. I never knew it. Seotra coordinated all of it. I had contact with her handler once or twice.”
“Her handler?”
“You both had one. Yours, unfortunately, was convinced to work for the other side.”
“Veyron.” Her voice cracked; she could barely say his name out loud. The Elder nodded. “So where is she? Where are Josselyn and her handler now?”
“Unfortunately, we lost contact with her about a month ago. We have some reason to believe the handler is being detained in a prison camp.”
“When were you going to tell me?” she asked.
“Perhaps never.” The Elder said it so casually Rhee felt as if she’d been struck. “She had no memory herself of what had happened, and as far as the public was concerned, you were the Crown Princess.”
“But I’m not,” she said, realizing that she was no longer the empress. Was she sad? Had she truly wanted the throne? There were those who were loyal to her, but their support was scattered, and those who doubted her ability to rule were countless.
The only thing she knew for certain was that she still wanted revenge. That gave her strength. It was her coil, her tether. Anger swept through her like a current. “Joss is my sister,” Rhee said. “She’s not just some—some toy.” Then something occurred to her, and her insides soured. “Did Dahlen know?” Rhee asked. The Elder paused, as if considering how to answer. “Did he?” she demanded again.
“It’s not as simple as yes or no. There are things he knows, and things he doesn’t know that he knows . . .”
“What does that even mean?” She was shouting without meaning to. “How could you just . . . hide her all these years? How could you lose her?” Rage burned through her like a fire. “You and your holy order. You pretend to be a keeper of the universe’s secrets. But you’re just as horrible as all the rest of them—horrible and selfish—”