Page 130 of Queen of War and Ruin

He snorts, then glances up at the sky.

“I’ve spent most of my life trying to destroy Vsenrog,” he says. “Why would you ever think I’d want to go back?”

“Do you?”

He doesn’t look at me, and it occurs to me for the first time how very little I know about my brother’s private life. Every time we meet, we discuss the royal family, the movements of Vsenrog’s troops, the schemes of spies and assassins. I have no idea what he might have left behind in that broken palace. Or who.

“Was there—” I hesitate, not sure exactly how to put this. “Someone special? In Vsenrog?”

Petrys sighs. He’s silent for so long that I think he’s not going to respond, and then he turns to me.

“No,” he says, softly. “There was. But not anymore. He wanted—something different, I suppose.”

“Shit,” I reply, before I can stop myself. “I’m sorry.”

Petrys shrugs, then blinks at the sky. “It was years ago.”

I shake my head. I can’t imagine the number of years would make any difference if I lost Lilias. I don’t think I’d ever recover.

Petrys shifts on the grass to face me.

“You want to talk about what happened last night?” he asks.

“Nope,” I reply.

Petrys just stares at me. I run my thumb over the hilt of the dagger he gave me and let my teeth sink into my lower lip. Somewhere overhead, a hawk lets out its shrill cry. I imagine the rabbits freezing in fear, tensing as the shadow of the predator passes overhead.

“I— I don’t know what happened,” I finally say. “It was⁠—”

My throat closes around the word. It’s too much, too insane. But there’s no other word for it.

“Magic,” I acknowledge, through gritted teeth.

“Yeah,” Petrys says. “I know.”

“You what?”

Petrys raises his eyebrow again. “You knocked down the palace wall,” he says. “With your bare hands. What else could it possibly be?”

“Well, okay,” I say, forcing the words out. “But I don’t know how it happened. I don’t understand how it works.”

My hand drops to my thigh, and I press my fingers against the outline of the silver chain in my pocket. It doesn’t feel like anything anymore; that strange burning hiss of magic is gone. Still, I can’t bring myself to leave it behind.

Petrys snorts again, then meets my gaze. “You saved our lives,” he says. “I don’t give a shit how it works. What I want to know is, are you okay?”

I exhale slowly as the jumble of memories surges through my mind. Dust and ash. Screaming and crumbling stone. Magic burning through me, until I felt like the marrow of my bones was boiling.

I stare at my open palms, at the curl of my fingers. I expected my skin to be charred and blistered afterward. But I look the same. On the outside.

“I— I think so,” I stammer. “I don’t feel—broken.”

“No more broken than usual?”

My brother’s lips curl into his little half-smile.

“Asshole,” I reply, and I realize I’m smiling too.

“What’s going on up here?” a voice calls from behind us.