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Istared into the deep brown eyes of Andros, sitting comfortably on the poor excuse for a cot. He’d removed his helmet, revealing deep red hair and a smattering of freckles. His eyes were kind, though, somehow sparkling in the dank light.
“What do you know of him? What does he want from me?”
He picked at the straw poking into his leg. “I know he planned to have the throne long before you killed Bram Ellis. He’d been working on it, and when Bram died, he just sort of swooped in, as if he’d orchestrated it somehow.”
“Death gave me the king’s name. There was no scheme there.”
“Maybe not on your end, Princess, but he speaks with Death often. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’d convinced Death to find a way to make you his bride and that’s how it all came to be. Before… that performer stole you, that is. No one saw that coming.”
Balancing on the flat end of the spear, I continued pressing for information, using kindness as a weapon against the poor fool. “What does he want with Quill?”
Andros lifted his shoulder. “Is that the kid? No idea. We don’t have many kids around here, ya know. Not like Perth.”
I rolled my eyes. “There aren’t many in Perth either. This might shock you, but the Life Maiden is missing from both cities. All of Requiem.”
“Right. Right.”
I thought back to my father’s birth ledger, remembering how most of the babies were documented with addresses closer to the castle. And then Regulas’s supposed confession of the Life Maiden’s whereabouts, though after countless hours in the library, I’d decided he was lying. But Andros’s words sank in, and I felt a knot forming in the pit of my stomach. Something buzzing, just on the edge of realization. It was as if a long-forgotten puzzle was coming together, piece by piece, revealing a picture that I had never expected to see. I had always known I was different, but the realization was both perplexing and frightening.
My eyes wandered to the spear I had been using as a makeshift crutch, and I couldn’t help but notice that the dull ache in my side had faded away completely. I recalled the numerous times when Orin’s injuries had healed remarkably fast. And I’d directly affected his madness. My presence was a balm to his tormented soul. Not because we were bonded.
Because I was the missing Life Maiden.
I stumbled backward, my mind running in circles as I searched my memories for any signs saying this couldn’t be true. I’d stood in Death’s court. His power was the only one I felt in my veins. If this was true, how could Death have power over Life? How could madness consume me, yet I was the answer to Orin’s darkness? Maybe I was wrong.
It didn’t matter. Not as the door from above crashed open and Icharius Fern came stomping down the steps, whistling a jovial tune. Though I didn’t think I needed to, since he’d been too sure of himself to take the spear, I still tossed it toward his guard sitting on the cot, with his eyes cast to the floor. There was a time to play games and a time to get serious, and at this moment, he’d expected to find Andros lying on the floor.
But when he came close enough, his cold eyes pinned to the kind man sitting on the cot, the final low note of his song faded away. “You had one godsdamned job.”
“I’ve never been a good worker,” I said. “Ask the Maestro; he can confirm.”
“We could have ruled this world with Death’s blessing. Two weapons on a black throne. But you had to go and fuck that up.”
Face turning as red as the lights outside of Lady Visha’s brothel, he stormed up the stairs, dragging one of the older women who’d been in the group down the stairs by her hair.
Andros jolted to his feet, gripping the iron bars. “Please, Your Grace. She’s done nothing wrong.”
“You will not speak,” he said, the red fading to purple as fury consumed him. “Which life will you take, Deyanira? Andros’s or hers?”
“Mine. Choose mine,” the woman said, her eyes locked on the man in my cell.
It took only a glimpse of the two to see the similarities. The pointed nose, the kind eyes, even the red hair. The only distinction apart from the size and sex was her age. His mother, no doubt.
My stomach turned. A perfectly orchestrated plan by a disgusting man. When I said nothing, Icharius slammed the woman’s head into the bars, splitting the flesh on her forehead as she cried out in pain.
“Princess,” Andros pleaded. “Take your spear and end this.”
“Princess?” The king’s anger shifted into humor as he glanced between us. “Were you a son of Perth, Andros?”
I looked at Andros once more, never considering he may very well have been one of my father’s subjects.
“I am a son of Perth, Your Grace. Until my last breath.”
The king clicked his tongue. “Pity you shit yourself in front of your banished princess. Maybe you could have had a chance. Now make your choice, Deyanira. Which of your people will you kill?”
I balled my hands into fists, gritting my teeth. “I will not choose.”
The sharp tip of the spear pressed into my spine with enough force that, on instinct alone, I jerked around, gripping the handle, and smashing it into Andros’s gut.
