Queens & Liars-Sequel to Three Broken Kingdoms (Completed)

Chapter Fifty-Nine: Firelight

The world was the firelight, the dancers, the music. Layla's heart felt so full that she wondered if it would burst.

It was over. After so long, it was over. The war was over. Medea was dead. Her country was free, at peace. The word still felt strange. A few days ago, she thought she was going to die. A few days ago, she thought her home was without hope, consigned to chains. And for the past six years, the world had been at war. Torn apart. She was always afraid. Always running. Her life had been balanced a knife edge. Peace would take a long while to get used to. For all of them.

It would take a while for them to rebuild. Not just their homes, but their hearts.  The scars of the war and the holes left by those stolen by it would remain for a long time. And the fight certainly wasn't over yet. They would have to rebuild and reconcile the people to this new world—a world united. They had but the barest sketches of that world now, but their plans were slowly coming together. Asriel, Miras and the new nations of Calore and Lysandria (the last was endless amusing to Layla) would have to bound together, not just by them, but forever. It was division that had led to Medea's bloodstained rule. Layla would not allow it to rise again.

Peace wasn't the only strange word hanging over her. Queen was equally alien. The thought of ruling was terrifying. Layla didn't know if she could trust herself with that responsibility. Thousands-hundreds of thousands-of people would rely on her to be the legendary queen the prophecies had foretold. She'd have twelve Lords to wrangle, only two of which-Alexandrius and Maia-that she trusted. Yet despite the challenges ahead and the grief still burdening her heart, Layla felt free. For the first time in years, there was hope on the horizon. A future without war or death or pain. Freedom. She could taste it on the tip of her tongue, despite the chains of a throne holding her still.

"Layla," her sister's voice rang out. She turned to face her. Another miracle, to see her face after five years in Dorgon thinking her twin was dead.

"Maia," she replied. Her twin's eyes sparkled. With life and hope—but with tears as well. Talia's death hung over them both. It was strange to feel that grief alongside her burgeoning joy. A juxtaposing balance of life and death.

"She was a good person," Maia said and Layla knew immeadietly who she meant. "She was a good person at her core. Beyond Vivienne and Talia and everything else, she was a good person and she loved us both dearly."

"Yes," Layla said softly. "She was. She was mortal and she got tangled up in revenge and fear and pain, but she was a good person in the end."

Maia leaned forth to whisper something in her ear. She knew instantly what it was. Talia's Name.

"She told me that if she died, she wanted me to tell you it." Maia explained.

"Thank you," Layla said, her eyes wet with bittersweet tears. "It suits her, I think."

"Her true Name," Maia smiled. "Not Vivienne or Talia, but..."

"Her," Layla finished. "I wish I'd made up with her before the end."

"No," Maia replied. "There's no time for looking back into the past, Layla. What's done is done. What's important is that you honour her memory." Layla dipped her head in acknowledgment, but still felt the sting of regret.

Enough. There was no turning back time. There was only today and tomorrow. Layla would live both in Talia's name and forever remember her sacrifice. She would remember her not as her worst self, but as a mother. An aunt. A sister. A defender of her people and her family. Someone who loved deeply and had a heart large enough to fit so many.

Layla took a deep breath, looked up at the stars and let go of her regrets.

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Lysandra

After everything she'd done, after all she'd schemed and sacrificed, after everyone she'd killed...she'd won. The sweet taste of victory lingered in her mouth. The throne was hers. It wasn't what she'd once dreamed of, she couldn't trace her fingers from the Shield Mountains of Miras to the Islands of Asriel to the southern coast of the Southern State. But she had Lysandria, a country wholly her own. It would answer to her and only to her and from Crimsith to Kazimiar, her word was law. Her older brothers, her dear barriers to the throne, were dead, their mother with them. She was the most powerful magic-wielder in the world—with the exception of the last witch—given Medea was dead and Layla's power was diminished. And though she might not rule Miras, Asriel and Calore, she had the alliance of its rulers. Four of the most powerful people in history.

"We're going to find him, right?" Maia asked. There was no need to clarify who him referred to—the one blot on her perfect ending. Aaron.

"Yes," Lysandra replied without hesitation. "I don't care how long it takes or how hard it is. We will find him." She paused. "You love him, don't you?"

  
"We were only just starting to know each other," Maia replied. "So no, I don't. But I was beginning to fall in love, and so was he." They were silent after that, and Maia drifted away.

When she found him—and she would find him—he would love them both again. She didn't care how many lies she had to tell, how many truths about their mother she had to unveil-she would have him back by her side again. Her alchemist. Her most trusted ally. Her brother. It didn't matter that he'd ripped his Name away from her and that he'd rejected hers. Soon, they would be together again. Brother and sister. Maia would have him back, and so would she. Everything as it was meant to be.

But for now, Lysandria took another sip of wine. She'd won. An empire was laid at her feet, her mother was dead and her magic unrivalled. Everyone who'd tried to control her, every noble in Medea's court who'd laughed and mocked her, would now bend the knee. The world was her oyster. And soon she would have Aaron by her side. Nala, her dearest friend, would rule her neighbour. Jasper and Kestra, friendly allies if not friends, would be forever by her side, even if Talia wasn't. After seventeen years of planning, the throne was hers.

The taste of power—true power—was far more intoxicating than the wine. Giddy victory rushed through her, sweeping her away from worries of Aaron. Tonight was for celebration.