“I wouldn’t,” said a familiar voice from the doorway, high and lilting. “She’s lost a great deal of blood.”
Heels clicked against the stone, their ruby color strangely complementary to the ebony stone and the blood that coated it.
Thia followed the shape of the shoes to a long, sweeping scarlet skirt that darkened into a glittering burgundy bodice above.
“Callista.” Thia frowned, wondering if her eyes were playing tricks.
“Actually,” the sorceress said, taking a delicate step into the chamber. “It’s—”
“Solanthe,” Oskaren breathed. “The queen.”
FORTY-FIVE
MORE GENTLY THAN SHE COULD HAVE IMAGINED UNDER THE CIRCUMSTANCES, Oskaren detangled herself from Thia, laying her onto the stone like she was made of glass. “Solanthe,” she growled, clambering to her feet. “What are you doing here?”
Callista—Solanthe—ignored her, metallic eyes surveying the scene before her. “I must say, Thia. You’ve done well. I was convinced you would not succeed.”
“You.” Thia struggled to sit up. Oskaren stepped closer, and Thia gripped her leg gratefully. Whatever ounce of care she’d felt for Callista had dissipated, leaving her with only the rage she felt on behalf of Oskaren. “You got Oskaren cursed.”
The Mirror of Souls, Thia realized suddenly.Do you not love her?It had been about Oskaren, but not in the way she’d thought. The Mirror had been trying to warn her.
“Actually,” Solanthe said, taking another step toward them. “It was I who cursed Oskaren.” She surveyed the girl with some odd mixture of hunger and disgust, her gaze narrowing on Oskaren’s protective stance and the way Thia clutched her calf for balance. “Not well enough it seems.”
Oskaren’s hands tightened on her sword. “I will kill you if you harm any one of us,” she growled. “Why the charade?”
Solanthe smiled slightly, and Thia wanted to slap the expression off her face. “I’m afraid you’ll have to be more specific. I have many charades.”
Oskaren raised her sword, pointing it at the sorceress’s chest. “Why let me think the king did it? If it was you?”
Solanthe stepped closer, pausing just before the reach of the blade. “Is that truly what you’d like to know? Not the depth of my care for you, whether I have regretted handing you such a fate after so many years of affection between us?”
“No.” Oskaren’s sword lowered a fraction. From fear, Thia realized, as the girl’s arm shook.
“Enough games,” Thia spat at Solanthe. “What do you want?”
The queen eyed her coldly, a much harsher look than the stiff-but-matronly mask she’d worn before. “You’re as insolent as your mother.”
Thia blinked. “You knew my mother?”
Solanthe smiled. “Sweet girl,” she said, her voice clear as a crystal. She seemed to be enjoying her ability to tantalize them with the truth. “Who do you think killed her?”
Thia’s head emptied. She felt cool, calm, in a terrifying sort of way.
Solanthe gave her a pitying look. “You’d be amazed how much more effective a ruler you can be when people don’t know it is you that governs them. Your mother was no different. I befriended her. Sheltered her. Guided her. Then, when I knew exactly what she was and who she had birthed, I killed her.”
Oskaren rammed her blade forward. Solanthe onlytsked,giving a casual wave of her manicured hand, and the sword flew from Oskaren’s grip. The girl stumbled forward, falling to her knees at Solanthe’s feet. The woman rested a possessive hand on Oskaren’s hair, and when she twitched away, the older woman laughed.
But Thia only stared. Solanthe’s mouth hadn’t moved. Which meant—
“You’re the Mage Queen.”
The sorceress—themage—leered. “You are a clever girl, aren’t you?”
Thia wanted to stand. She wanted to claw the humor right off the woman’s face. But she felt so heavy, so weak, like even sitting she might collapse. So she settled for balling her hands into fists. “Who the hell is King Caradoc then?”
Thran stepped in front of Thia, arms crossed. “A child of Irondeer,” he murmured, surprising her. “The unwanted son of one of the magistrate’s affairs.” He was visibly pale, his mouth a hard line. “Isn’t he?”
Solanthe’s snarl confirmed it. “A nameless bastard keen for coin. I needed a king, and he was more than willing to oblige. His eyes—a tragedy of his birth—only sold the ruse.” She inspected Thran with disgust. “I knew those birth records were found, just not by whom. Until you met him and decided to share your little insights about his unusual appearance.”
