Cynthia choked, a piece of cheese flying from her mouth. “You know about Lana?”
I nodded. “And about her and Lex.”
Cynthia’s hands went to either side of her head. “What about her and Lex!”
I flinched. Shit. I thought that if she knew about her being a rebel that she would have known about him too. Fuck. “Uh—nothing, just that she is working for him, being a rebel and all that,” I said, trying to brush it off.
“Fates, the way you said it… well, I wouldn’t be surprised if they were. They are always with each other.” Cynthia's brow furrowed, and she eyed me suspiciously but didn’t press the issue. Her gaze dropped to the floor, and she looked devastatingly at the damn cheese spoiled on the ground.
“For how long?” I asked her, trying to change the subject back onto her. She looked back up to me, her demeanor changing as she shifted uncomfortably on the cot, taking another bite.
“For as long as I can remember, I suppose. I never agreed with the way things were in Velra. How society was made, the deaths, the violence. The way the queen controlled… everything. Everyone. The way she was able to just take you and kill your mother. I guess it really started that day.” She shrugged. “I was sent to Ironfell and I don’t know, I just became a spy for the rebellion.”
Cynthia paused, looking down, her fingers crumbling the cheese in her hand as she twisted it. “Turns out there are a lot of people like me, like them, already in your ranks.”
She looked up, her eyes icy as they bore into mine. “I knew who you were, heard the rumors, the stories, and after seeing you that first time.” She sighed. “I hadn’t wanted to believe you could be that person.” Cynthia snorted. “The Viper of Velra.”
“Lana warned me to stay away from you, but I had to talk to you, and then you started remembering, and I don’t know, I hoped you knowing the truth would help, to want to fight back. I begged Lana to tell you about her and the rebellion, about me. But well, you can imagine how well that went over.” Cynthia snorted again, and I stayed silent, letting her get out what she needed to say. “I thought maybe you would see things differently once you saw the truth of how things really are. And then that stupid plan, I only went along with it to keep an eye on you.”
Cynthia's eyes burned brightly as she smiled. “You were like yourself again, just how I remembered you as a kid, I mean. I kind of wished you stayed like that. Wished Xavier or Jaxon found a way to keep you here...” Cynthia said, trailing off.
I shook my head. “She would never have allowed it, not that it would matter, she still has my soul. My magic.”
Cynthia nodded. “Yeah, well, it changed you still, I think. Your time here.”
She looked at me as if she wanted me to confirm her words. But what did she want me to tell her, yes? That my whole world was ripped apart, shredded and torn until the truth about my life, about this world, about that ancient witch came tolight, and despite all of that, I still couldn’t do anything about it? That the truth, that knowing changed everything, and also changed nothing at all. I was still trapped. Still had no will of my own, this chain around my ankle the only thing holding my life in limbo at the moment.
“It doesn’t matter, Cynthia. This all doesn’t matter,” I said, standing and folding my arms tightly to my chest, putting my back to her. The cheese on my lap flopped to the damp stone floor.
This was just another delay in the inevitable. I knew Morgana knew where I was, and she could get me at any time, but she hadn’t. She wanted me here. She was still using me, even now. Morgana would make me hurt them, and I wouldn’t be able to stop it. No matter how much I wished I could just snap and be the person they all wanted me to be, I couldn’t. I deserved my fate, and it was coming for me either way.
“All of this matters, Zara! What are you talking about?”
I spun to face her, my rage and grief overflowing as I spat, “Not for me. You might have a choice in all of this, but I don’t.” The words broke as I shouted them. “Regardless of what I do, it doesn’t matter because she has control of me, Cynthia. And even if you win this war, I won’t be here to see it.”
“What are you talking about?” Cynthia snapped, standing from the cot, and it was as if she truly didn’t understand, didn’t realize. I laughed because she probably didn’t.
“My soul, my magic, has been bound to Morgana’s for as long as I can remember, Cynthia. It’s been that way for so long that even if Gunnar, or Xavier, or whoever, finds a way to sever it, it would be impossible. I’m a part of her now. I’monly alive because of her.” Each word that escaped felt like a shard of glass, and bile rose in the back of my throat.
Cynthia looked as if I had just slapped her. She was shaking her head at me vehemently, “That can’t be true, Zara, it just can’t—you—”
“I what? I have nothing, Cynthia!” I shouted, slashing my hands through the air in anger. “In order for you all to win, she has to die, which means I will die,” I jabbed my finger into my chest so hard it nearly cracked. “And if Morgana wins, I might as well be dead. I’ll be chained to her, toAtticusfor the rest of my miserable life, forced to murder and kill anyone I ever dared to care about. Includingyou.”
Tears streamed down my face, and I angrily wiped them away, the dampness only fueling my frustration. They had become a weakness. Making what was to come harder, unbearable. I would have to watch it all unfold—their deaths, their suffering.
Cynthia flinched but stood tall. “Xavier, Jaxon, they’ll find a way, they’ll—”
“You don’t understand, Cynthia…” I choked out, my voice broken. “The Fates have already shown me my fate.”
“The future is always changing, Zara. Nothing is ever set in stone,” Cynthia spat and she sounded like Xavier. Cytnhia ran toward the bars, clutching them. “You don’t know that you will die,” she said softly, and it broke what little was left in my heart.
I turned from her again, walking back to my cot. I sat heavily onto it, placing my head into my hands as I rubbed at my temples.
“Look at me!” Her words were cutting, choking out of her as if she had to strangle them out. I looked up at her slowly, feeling detached, feeling nothing.
“It’s too late, Cynthia.”
Cynthia slammed her palms onto the bars, and I scowled at her.
