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“He... was my father,” I say in the end, through gritted teeth.
His eyes are hard as flint, but there’s understanding in them. “The Regia was my mother.”
He lunges. The sword’s too heavy—I can’t get it up in time—and the blow hits and I fall, sprawled on the ground. The taste of blood fills my mouth.
But he didn’t cut me; he hit me with the side of his sword. He’s toying with me.
“You know it wasn’t me who killed her,” I say. “Yougave them the mark.”
“Get up!” Dalca bellows, taking a menacing step forward. But I saw it—the briefest flinch. My words hit.
I get to my knees and lean on the sword to push myself up.
I’ve barely made it to my feet when his sword smacks me again. I fall; my knees crunch in the sand. It doesn’t hurt as much as the humiliation of not being able to fight back.
Dalca steps in front of me, his blue eyes electric. “You took everything from me.”
“I came to save my father.” My voice shakes. “I came becauseyoucame into my home. Because of you, I lost everything. My family, my home.” I bite back the pain, the tears that want to come with my words.
“No,” Dalca says. “You lost everything because your parents were traitors.”
My ears start to ring.My blood pounds like a drumbeat and, under it, the Queen’s curse.
Dalca continues, a terrible smile on his lips. “You did what you had to do. I understand. But so must I. And what I have to do is cut down all people like you.”
He lets me get to my feet, but the sword falls from my numb hands. “People like me,” I repeat, recoiling at the casual way he says it, as if we’re now from two different species.
“Liars, traitors. Killers.”
“Who haveIkilled?”
“You don’t deny the lying?”
I laugh. “Wasn’t it you who lied to me? Didn’t you promise to pardon my father? You lied to get his work, to have me walk into the Storm with you, and then you threw me away! You played with my life! You played with my father’s life! What a prince! What a Regia you’ll be!”
Everythingis his fault. He took Pa. He designed the Trials. He killed Pa. He imprisoned me. He kissed me, he used me. And he got in; he wormed his way into my heart. I let him. I let him hurt me.
No more.
The flood of rage, that thing within me, the Queen’s curse—it snaps taut, a line to the Storm above, like a beacon drawing it in. I’m in two places at once, half in my body, half in the heart of the stormclouds above.
Above, beyond the straining ikonshield, the clouds fold back into the Great Queen’s face, one that looks like Ma. She fixes her infinite void eyes upon me.
I hear her like a thrum inside me, a voice that understands me better than I understand myself. She promises me love; she promises me power. She promises to punish all who have hurt me, swearing I’ll never be hurt again.
She promises retribution.
Her curse comes alive under my skin. But I know now what it is; some part of me knew the moment she sent me the dream of the past Regias. She didn’t give me a curse; she gave me her mark.
Let me in.
I suck in a breath.
Take the power you so desire.
On the ground, I open my eyes, taking in Dalca anew. “People likeme?” My voice is strange; it’s strong, brutal. “It’s people likeyouthat this city would be better without.”
Become my vessel.
