47ELARA
The knife stopped an inch above her chest, the tip angled at her matchstick tattoo.
“What the hell are you doing?” Fernand snarled.
“Trying something new,” she panted. “We have to find another way. Look!”
Fernand faced The Market. Flames crawled up a building, devouring the crumbling infrastructure like hay. Mothers screamed over their fallen children. Officers dragged their injured comrades out of danger.
“This was unavoidable,” she said. “I realize that now. The bombing was just the beginning. They were trying to warn us. My mother tried to warnme, and I didn’t listen. And I didn’t listen to you.”
Behind her, Lafontaine’s breath was haggard but steady. He was smart to remain silent. If he opened his mouth, she might not let him live.
“Then let me finish this,” Fernand said. “Let me cut his miserable throat so we can start over.”
“Can we?” Elara motioned to the destruction. “These soldiers, the Counseil… they have families, and when their loved ones don’t come home? This will all start over. Unless you show them the truth about this monster. Show them how his lust for power was only beginning with the Restes. Show them we’re not who he says we are.”
Fernand’s knife trembled.
“What are you thinking?” he asked.
Elara turned to Lafontaine. “You forgot dessert, Souverain.”
“Get away from me, you bitch!” He struck her. Only once. Fernand pinned his arms back, ensuring it wouldn’t happen again.
Elara shook off the sting and held out the lavender mousse she’d collected on a spoon. One bite was all she needed to break him. Fernand pinched his nose, and Elara waited for him to gasp for air to shove the spoon in.
She didn’t care about the poison.
She cared about her magie.
His wrinkles deepened with sorrow. His fingers reached for someone who wasn’t there, and his lips trembled with Haydee’s name.
“Do you see her?” Elara asked.
“Stop this,” Lafontaine wheezed.
His eyes glazed over, swirling white.
“If she could see you now, would she be proud? You were going to murder her son. Youused himto try and destroy her people.” She couldn’t find Nik in the crowd. Her heart seized with worry. Later. She could find him later.
“She chose me,” Lafontaine spat. “Not him.”
“As if a heart doesn’t have capacity to love more than one thing. Haydee loved her neighbors, and she wanted to free them. But she also loved you. Just as my mother loved me.”
It had taken Elara too long to realize this. Her mother hadn’t chosen a rebellion over her. She’d chosen itforher. Corinne had refused to let starvation and labor be her daughter’s destiny.
“Your mother was a devil!”
Elara resisted the urge to let Fernand bury that knife in the cavern where his heart should’ve been.
She had to keep going, push harder.
“Did you get to hold Haydee as she died?” she whispered, only forhim. “I hope you did. I hope it was more peaceful than what my mother got.”
Tears coursed down his wrinkles and into his finely kept beard.
“I killed her.”
