“Stop,” she hissed. “I finally have a chance to fix things! For myself! For you! For the Restes!”
Fernand motioned around, to the chamber, to the ceiling, to the audience salivating over every flicker of pain the Counseil caused.
“This won’t fix anything.” He tipped his chin, casting shadows across his eyes. “They won’t fix a damn thing, and you sure as hell aren’t brave enough to do it without having someone else take the blame if it goes wrong.”
Gasps this time. He was going to screw her over again.
“Leave me alone.” She pressed her palms onto the counter, lowering her head. “Please.”
“I will.Ifyou say her name.”
Desperate for relief, she dug for her mother’s name. Every time she came close to a hazy memory, it faded away. All she knew were strong hands teaching her how to work dough. A gentle press of lips to her dark curls. And tears. Enough to drown the city in.
“I can’t.”
“What a disappointment.”
He left anyway. When she looked up, she was alone with her reflection—still unfamiliar.
Elara touched the cold glass.
Gaetan was right.
This wasn’t a mistake.
She’d wanted to play the Counseil’s game despite knowing there was no way to win. Even before that, she’d taken the first opportunity to escape her old life, following Fernand’s scheme right into this hellhole. She’d always been running from her mother. Now it would cost her everything.
“Auclair.” Tremblay’s voice cut through her thoughts. “Do not burn my home down.”
Smoke singed her nostrils.
Fire crackled from the pan of vegetables.
Elara watched them burn, the medallions turning to char.
Her attention shifted upward to the Counseil box, but she didn’t give a shit about the Souverains. She found Nik leaning over the banister, eyes wide with… disappointment? No.
Worry. Fear.
For her.
You can always try again, she’d told him.
Why couldn’t she?
There was still time to make a different choice, even if it cost her everything.
Elara offered him a sad smile and hoped it would be enough of an apology.
Then she took the pan with her bare hand.
Elara had suffered burns before, but nothing like this. Raw pain licked like a blade across her fingers and palm. Sweat broke across her bodydespite her skin turning shockingly cold in response. A scream clawed its way from her throat, and her knees threatened to buckle.
She willed herself to hold on even as the ring turned hot.
Hotter.
Hotter.
