Kayden led her queen down the castle's main corridor, their footsteps echoing in the empty hall as they passed dozens of portraits of previous rulers who'd been beside Mother over the centuries. The pinewood frames that held each portrait were carved in elegant designs, their beauty hidden beneath years of dust. Mother didn't spare a glance toward them as she limped on, but Kayden paused at the very last portrait—the one of her father.
Even in the painting, he was a stranger. His tanned white skin, dark eyebrows, neatly combed hair, and stern expression were so different from her memory of the broken king charged with treason. After the Death Year, Mother had locked him in the dungeons, while everyone else believed he'd died from injuries sustained in battle. His only crime had been advising Mother to surrender before Stelan became a bloodbath. She'd never forgiven him for betraying her interests, even when he'd been right.
Three years ago, Alaric had freed him from his chains, and their father fled Freca and was never heard from again. Kayden had never seen Mother so furious before, until now.
Studying Mother out of the corner of her eye, she hoped the threat of murder in her expression would fade by the time they made it to Kayden's living quarters beneath the dungeon stairs—the last place people would expect them to go.
She should have known better.
The moment they entered Kayden's quarters, Mother slammed her against the wall, hands clasped around her throat.
"Stop," Kayden choked out. Her vision wavered, but she kept her hands at her sides and her weapons sheathed. "You need me."
After a few deep breaths, Mother released her. "If it wasn't for your magic, your ashes would be frozen in the ground by now."
Kayden didn't know what to say to that, so she kept her mouth shut.
Fresh drops of blood splattered the floor from Mother's injuries. Kayden guided her toward the bed. Despite her limp, Mother moved across the room with a grace that showed her true age. Physically, she appeared to be in her mid-twenties, but she was one of the oldest people alive. She was an endelea, her magic granting her the ability to live forever.
Mother sat on the bed, clutching her side as Kayden helped remove her light, leather armor. Kayden tried calling upon her healing magic but felt nothing. She tried again.
Still nothing.
"Well?" Mother asked, her words laced with impatience.
Her mounting dread turned into an avalanche. Kayden squeezed her eyes shut, but she still couldn't feel the pull of her healing magic, couldn't find that instinct to heal the wounds she had inflicted upon her queen. She wanted to, but her power to save someone other than herself only manifested when a person was on the brink of death.
"Your injuries aren't life-threatening. I'm sorry."
"Enough with your excuses and false apologies. You're the one who did this. Now fix it."
"My magic has limitations." Kayden took the vibrant Brynian quilt from her bed and tore it into strips. She started wrapping one around a wound on Mother's arm to halt the bleeding, and the brilliant purple cloth turned dark. "You need a proper medic."
Mother grabbed her wrist. "I gave you an order."
She set the makeshift bandages down, meeting her gaze. Mother's wide cheekbone was swollen from where she had struck her, bruises prominent around her left eye.
"You've never defied me before," Mother said. "Today you did it twice."
Kayden bit the inside of her cheek. She wanted to explain herself, to tell Mother the lies she'd practiced to hide the true reason she needed to leave for Leodia, but she held back. It was too soon to justify what she had done to her queen.
"If you try to claim you had no intention of betraying me," Mother continued, her grip tightening around her wrist, "I'll cut out your lying tongue and feed it to the dogs. I know you planned this. You had a solution ready with the slip-of-mind seeds before any loose threads could further unravel this domain. So, why did you do it?"
Kayden didn't pull away as she recited, "It's no secret Leodia is plotting war against Freca. Their generals are some of the best, and all previous assassination attempts have failed." She chose her words carefully, dancing around the topic of Freca's weakened state. If she mentioned Freca in a negative light, it'd only remind Mother of the Death Year that had started all of this. "If we don't eliminate our enemies, we are inviting them to attack."
When Mother didn't say anything, she added, "Malakai was raised to rule and guard. He will be by your side when I'm in Leodia."
"She's right," a deep voice said from behind them. Malakai leaned against the doorframe, a lynx fur cloak draped over his broad shoulders, the silver chain clasps gleaming. "I was raised to rule, but Kayden seems to think she can take charge around here."
Kayden scowled. Malakai had wanted her to win, right? So why was he trying to further pit Mother against her? If he sabotaged her plan, she wouldn't have the chance to find Alaric. She couldn't risk Malakai knowing his younger brother still lived.
Malakai stepped into the room, smelling of smoke from the burnt dead. He did not perch on the bed like the rest of them, and his arms remained crossed. "I checked the slip-of-mind storages."
"What's the status?" Mother asked.
"They're nearly depleted."
Mother glared at Kayden. "You never should have entered that tournament."
Malakai drew closer, placing a hand on Kayden's shoulder. Through the torn fabric of her tunic, his fingertips grazed the scar she had received the day Jesse died. The scar had never healed—a curse she'd hoped her healing magic would cure. The hundreds of other scars decorating her body didn't bother her, but that one on her arm served as a permanent reminder of her failure.
"I disagree," Malakai said. "We needed Kayden to win that tournament."
"She cannot leave Freca." Mother tried to stand, but she swayed, her injuries getting the better of her.
Malakai was by her side in an instant. "Easy there. Should I fetch a medic?"
Mother ignored him, and the briefest flash of annoyance crossed his stern features. Forever her shadow, never favored. He was an endelea like Mother. Kayden didn't know exactly how many years he had, just that he was under half a century old and appeared to be in his mid-twenties, like their queen. Even though Mother appreciated an endelea's ability to live forever, his power wasn't as useful as Kayden's.
"The people of Freca have very little respect for me." Mother unsheathed a dagger, turning it over and over between her fingers. "I saw it at the tournament tonight. Even a fool couldn't miss it. Regardless of whether they recall what went down this evening, it matters not." She paused, watching her reflection in the blade. "Kayden's magic is unique—the first of its kind. If what the prophecy said is true, I cannot risk her straying from my side."
The prophecy. Kayden resisted the urge to scream in frustration. She was a vastera, her magic believed to be gifted by the goddesses themselves. Alaric was her opposite: a vescovus. His magic came from the gods. If she was too valuable to send away, then why was Alaric the one deemed disposable all those years ago?
The prophecy foretold that the vescovus was meant to protect the vastera, and together they would prevent the deaths of the three wearian trees. These trees held the only fruit that made people immune to the poisoned waters in their world.
Some part of Kayden had hoped the prophecy was wrong when Alaric had disappeared, but now he was alive and the trees continued to die. Freca possessed one of them. She had no idea how to heal the trees. Sure, she had a healing power that could also be used on other mortals, but her instinct to heal came only when one was near death. She'd never tried healing anything other than a mortal before.
Malakai knelt before Mother, bowing his head. "With all due respect, my queen, Freca is dying."
Kayden glared. "Malakai!"
The words he spoke were not the thing you said to Mother's face, unless you wanted a blade through your heart.
She braced herself for Mother's rage, but Mother had withdrawn into herself, knuckles paling as she gripped Malakai's hand.
Kayden frowned. Fear was something a queen never dared show, at least not Lior Branimir.
"Our only chance to successfully eliminate the war generals is Kayden," Malakai pressed. "As your second in command—"
"Leodia is the last place she should go! The queen knows of the prophecy. She's the only one who has lived as long as I have." Mother's fingers darted to one of the many pendants she always wore. It was attached to her tunic, like the rest of her collection. She twisted the pendant.
This one was gold and deep green.
Leodia's colors.
"Queen Chhaya won't know who I am," Kayden said. "Nobody does, and I can hide that I'm the vastera."
"You will stay here," Mother barked.
Malakai shifted his position. "Freca will be safer if—"
Suddenly, Mother's dagger was at Malakai's throat.
"Did you not hear me?" she hissed, drawing blood.
Kayden stiffened.
Malakai didn't flinch, but he looked down, bowing his head. "I meant no offense, my queen."
Mother kept the knife to his throat. If Malakai wasn't careful, it would be his tongue fed to the dogs instead of hers. Honestly, Kayden wouldn't mind his silence. She would've prayed for it now if she still believed the goddesses stood by her side. Whatever it was Malakai planned to say next, she hoped he wouldn't ruin it for her any more than he already had.
"You may be safer when Kayden is near," Malakai continued, "but what happens when Leodia decides to strike? Your people are feeble, both in strength and their allegiances. Some of them will turn on you. There are only so many Kayden can quell before they overpower her."
"How dare—"
Malakai grabbed Mother's arm, stopping the blade from slashing his throat. "You want to strengthen your reign? Send Kayden to assassinate the targets. It will delay the inevitable attack and grant you time to gain back your people's allegiances. Freca will be stronger than it has in years."
Mother removed the blade from Malakai's throat, and relief washed over his features. He sat beside Kayden on the bed, and she didn't miss how he put her between him and Mother. She wished she could use Malakai as a shield instead.
"Kayden is a weapon," Malakai said. "Use her."
She scowled at this, but it was true.
"There's a bigger picture here, if you'll just allow yourself to see it. What comes next after we weaken our enemy?" Malakai mused. "What happens when, years from now, the wearian trees are all on the brink of death?"
Mother sat up a little straighter, but she winced at the slight shift, pressing a hand to her wounded torso. "There will be chaos across all domains."
"Exactly. The people will be desperate for a savior."
"Don't," Kayden said, shooting Malakai a look. Her voice was small and weak, a cracked shield she couldn't protect herself with, and it broke in two when her brother smiled.
Her stomach twisted. It would only be a matter of time before Mother realized she could be used to take control of all the domains, but Kayden had never dared to plant that seed in her head. As long as Mother remained obsessed over regaining control of the Frecan people, she wouldn't be looking at the bigger picture.
Unless Malakai painted it for her.
Kayden gritted her teeth, knowing there was nothing she could do to stop him. If this was the only way to go to Leodia, then so be it.
"Use her as leverage," Malakai continued. "The one who controls Kayden controls all the domains. Let chaos reign. Let the trees die until everyone is so desperate they bend the knee to you and only you, begging Queen Lior to restore the trees. And if they don't kneel..."
"Indecision is death," Kayden whispered, finishing his sentence.
Mother stood, steadier than before, and slid a gorgeous dagger from her wrist sheath.
Kayden tensed. Had she said the wrong thing?
For a few moments, Mother examined the dagger, tilting it so the blade caught the firelight and made the jeweled hilt glimmer. Then, she handed it to Kayden, handle first. "When you kill the generals, be sure it's by my blade."
Kayden grabbed it with cautious fingers, and the metal was so cold it was as if the gods had cursed it themselves. "I will not fail you, my queen."
*
After Mother left the dungeons for the medical wing, Kayden paced, unable to believe it. For the first time in years, she'd gathered up the courage to fight for what she wanted, and it had worked.
She was going to Leodia.
She almost found herself smiling, but then she noticed Malakai was still in her room, watching her.
Aware that she'd already given away too much of her excitement, she stopped pacing. Oddly enough, Malakai didn't pry. She sat on the floor beside the stack of old Brynian and Stelian romance stories she had read many times over. The cool wall soothed her back, and she closed her eyes, taking a deep breath to restore her mask.
They sat like that—Kayden on the floor, Malakai on the opposite side perched on her bed—for a few long moments, neither saying a word. She absentmindedly touched the scars along her palm.
"Do you still remember them?" Malakai asked as he brushed off a patch of dirt from his cloak.
"Who?"
"The ones who were killed."
She looked up. "By my hand or yours?"
He shrugged. "Doesn't really matter, does it? They're all dead."
A flash of anger ran through her, but she refused to let it show. "I remember them all."
"How many have you killed?"
The way he studied her, as if he were sizing her up, unnerved her, but she had no idea why. Warning bells went off in her mind.
"What is this, some sort of test?"
He peered at his nails, picking at the chipped black paint. "I'm just curious."
"You're never 'just curious.' There's always a motive."
"Maybe," Malakai said with the slightest upturn of his lips. "Maybe not."
Kayden sighed. "Two-twenty-six."
He let out a low whistle. "That's more than most warriors take in an entire lifetime."
Her nails bit into her palms. "What about you?"
"What about me?"
She frowned. "How many have you taken?"
He shrugged, and she wanted to rip the smugness from his expression, maybe even run a blade across his throat for good measure.
"You don't remember?"
His gaze shifted toward the ceiling, dark brows creasing. "I only recall one, but the others... they're all just blank faces."
The idea of taking so much life and forgetting every stolen breath sickened her. She wasn't perfect. She'd kill again without hesitation if she needed to, but forgetting was the ultimate form of death. If they were all forgotten, had they ever existed? This was the reason she drew the faces of all the lives she took. She wanted to remember.
Or maybe she just couldn't forget.
"Why did you stand up to Mother for me?"
"You think I did it for you?" Malakai laughed. It was a strange, cruel sound. "I did it to save myself. If our queen doesn't do what needs to be done, it'll be another Death Year all over again. Only this time, neither of us would get out alive."
Kayden had only been five when the Death Year happened, but she shuddered at the thought.
"So you truly think Freca will fall?" she asked.
"No, only our queen. One can pray to Tariro, but it's only a matter of time before the past catches up to Mother."
"I'm assuming you'd be there to take the throne, then?"
"Yes."
"Is it something you wish for?"
He didn't answer right away. Stating aloud that he wanted the throne was treason, but she'd seen it in his eyes earlier. The Prince of Shadows, yearning to be king.
"Only time will tell."
Disappointed by his answer, she tried again. "Let's say the prince claims the throne. Theoretically speaking, of course. We wouldn't want to commit treason here."
He shot her a warning look.
She smirked. "Relax. Mother isn't with us right now." She shifted her position, sitting cross-legged. "Let's say this Shadow Prince"—Malakai flinched at the nickname—"knows the secret to controlling all the domains. Does he do what's necessary to take control, or does he not fancy world domination?"
"He does what is necessary," Malakai said, his voice dropping. "He has the weapon that can let chaos reign till the very last moment. Then, when all kneel to him, he will grant them mercy. Life will flourish under his rule."
"That's quite the dream, Shadow Prince. What happens if this weapon decides she wants to control her own life?"
There was no amusement in his tone. "These dungeons seem rather nice, don't you think?"
Kayden's blood ran cold. It was the answer she'd expected, but it was the one she'd hoped she was wrong about.
"Couldn't imagine a better place." She forced a smile. "The constant, bone-aching chill is a nice touch, too."
"I was thinking the same thing." He stood. "But there's no need for that, is there?"
"No." Kayden raised her chin, but she had a hard time meeting his stare. "I will not fail my mission, and I will return to Freca to do whatever is necessary."
She almost believed the words herself.
"Good." His gaze dropped, and she followed it—he was peering at her hands. The blood drained from his face, and he tensed.
Her palm faced up, her fingers brushing over the scars there. She hadn't even realized she was doing it again. It was an old habit she hadn't learned to break.
"What's the matter?" Kayden asked a little too sharply, but the pain these scars stemmed from took root in her heart and festered. They were the ones she'd inflicted when she had tried saving Jesse with healing magic. "You've never seen scars before?"
Malakai ran a hand through his dark brown hair. Seconds ago he'd been so confident, but now he couldn't even look at her. "I..." He cleared his throat. "I used to think the worst sound in the world was the moment before death. When the blade is driven into a person, but it isn't a clean kill. Sometimes they'd shriek, other times you'd hear only the gurgling of—"
"Why are you telling me this? I don't need to hear it."
But Malakai rubbed a hand over his face and continued anyway. "The sound gets under your skin, but eventually you get used to it. Except when you don't. It's easy to ignore it when a person takes their last breath because then you know their suffering is over. But I once saw a person die but still survive." He finally looked at her, and to her astonishment, there were tears.
She didn't know why, but she felt as if she were falling from that cliff again. She couldn't breathe, could only watch as the clouds swirled and snow drifted from the Above. Her world had stopped, but everything else kept moving without her, oblivious that she lay on the ground, unable to get up.
"Malakai, don't."
"And her screams..." He went on. "They were the most awful sound, the kind you want to claw from your memory. The kind that rips my heart to pieces because I realized that I killed her."
His hand had rested on the hilt of his sword, but he moved it away, fingers flexing as if burned. "I lied when I told you I only remembered one death. There were two that day. Jesse was the first—"
"Enough!"
Malakai couldn't seem to hear her. His expression appeared distant, elsewhere. "I remember how you screamed and you cried, and you cut your palms to bleed your healing magic into him, but he wouldn't wake up. Then you looked at me, and your eyes were so empty, and I realized it was possible to kill someone without laying a finger on them."
She could see it all so clearly. The air left her lungs, the hollowness seeping in like poison.
"Your death is the one that haunts me the most, Kayden."
Her fingers trembled, but she curled them into fists, nails biting deep. "Did you know what he meant to me?" Her words were so quiet, fragile like a snowflake before a boot crushed it.
"Not until it was too late. I didn't realize you loved him. I'm sorry."
She gave a bitter smile. Malakai thought she had loved Jesse, and she did, but only as a friend. That meant he didn't know about Eka, and she intended to keep the girl she loved a secret.
"You've always been my favorite. Did you know that?" he said. "You're strong, whereas Alaric was weak."
"Alaric was stronger than I could ever be."
He shook his head. "Wrong. He never followed orders. He constantly tried to spite Mother."
That was what Kayden admired about her twin—he'd been fearless.
"It's why I convinced Mother to send him away," Malakai said.
She stilled. "It was you?"
"He was a threat to the throne." Malakai sighed. "I hired assassins to take care of him once he arrived in Leodia for his so-called intelligence mission. They made it look like an accident." He grinned then. "You want to know what gets me? You fear the wrong person. You're always tiptoeing around Mother, but who do you think gives the orders?"
"Mother is our queen."
"She's a puppet. She believes she's the one responsible for the Death Year battle, but I'm the one who convinced her to go through with it so I could ruin her reputation." Malakai paused, picking off a piece of nail polish. "Then there was the matter of keeping you and your brother in line. Using your friends against you was effective, wouldn't you agree? Especially after Jesse's death. I chose him to go first, but I let Mother give the command so she felt like she was in control."
Her vision blurred and her fingers ached to drive a dagger through his neck, but a death like that would be too quick, too painless. "You lied. You were never sorry for killing Jesse."
"I meant it when I apologized. But if I had the choice to do it all over again, I would."
"Malakai?"
"Yes?"
"Leave."
The amusement returned to his deep brown eyes, and it was the worst thing she'd ever seen. "As you wish, but remember this: I'm the one who controls you."
She kept her gaze on the ground, unwilling to let him see her resentment, but when his footsteps faded up the dungeon stairs and all she heard was her own unsteady breathing, she let the rest of her composure crumble. She was falling from that cliff again. This time, when she hit the ground, even the snow stopped moving.
She had fought in the tournament, but this didn't feel like winning. Malakai—the brother she'd mocked all her life—was willing to put her in chains if she dared to be anything other than a weapon. If he'd told her this yesterday, she would've laughed. He was no threat, but now she knew differently.
Malakai had fooled them all.
He was no Shadow Prince. Everything she feared of Mother had been guided by his careful hand and his deadly words.
Kayden ran her fingers over the damp dungeon floors. She never wanted to feel a chill like this again. Once she left Freca, she wasn't coming back.
But only with Alaric by her side would she ever feel safe again. His magic had always been stronger than hers. Together, they could be unstoppable against Malakai, and no one would dare try to control them.