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“Marylyn.”The name croaked out of Lara’s throat, her chest a riot of emotion at seeing her sister again, even as she knew what the other woman’s presence meant. Beautiful, with golden blond hair.
Marylyn had been the noblewoman on the ship Emra had boarded.
“Lara.”
Aren started to struggle, snapping Lara out of her trance. “Don’t move,” Lara warned him. “Her blade will be poisoned.”
“You do know my tricks.”
“Let him go.”
“We both know that’s not likely to happen, little cockroach.”
The old nickname burned in her ears, while her eyes searched for a way to disarm Marylyn without getting Aren killed. But there was none.
“Who is this woman?” Aren demanded.
“Lara is my little sister. My lying, thieving, little bitch of a sister.”
The words were a slap to the face. “Marylyn, I came here to spare you.”
“Liar.” Marylyn’s voice was pure venom. “You stole what was rightfully mine, then left me to rot in the desert. Do you have any idea how long it took me to get to Vencia to explain to Father what you’d done?”
“I did it to protect you!”
“Lara, the martyr.” Marylyn’s lip turned up in a sneer. “Only I saw through to your true intentions, you lying whore.”
Lara stared at her, dumbfounded. The letter she’d left in Sarhina’s pocket had explained everything. Her father’s intention to have the rest of them killed. That Lara faking their deaths and then taking Marylyn’s place as Queen of Ithicana was the only way to save all their lives, except for perhaps her own. She’d given them their freedom. “He was going to kill our sisters. It was the only way. Why don’t you understand?”
“I understand perfectly.” Marylyn shifted the blade pressed to Aren’s throat, angling the tip upward. “Do you think I didn’t know that Father intended to kill the rest of you?” She laughed. “Do you think I cared?”
This wasn’t her sister. It couldn’t be. Marylyn had always been the sweetest. The kindest. The one who needed to be protected.
The best actress.
“You said your sisters were dead.” Aren’s voice jerked her back into the moment.
“What now, has she been keeping secrets?” Marylyn stroked his cheek with her free hand, laughing as he recoiled. “Allow me to bring you into the fold, Majesty. No one forced Lara to come to Ithicana to spy, shechoseto. Except ‘chose’ isn’t even a strong enough word. Lara conspired against us all in order to ensureshewould be Queen of Ithicana so thatshewould have the glory of throwing your people on Maridrinian blades.”
“That’s not true,” Lara whispered.
“That’s the woman you married, Majesty. A liar like none I’ve ever known. Worse than that, she’s a murderer. I’ve seen her kill. Maim. Torture. All in cold blood. All practice for what she intended to do to your people.”
That part was true. Painfully and horribly true. “We all did it, Marylyn. None of us had a choice.”
Her older sister rolled her eyes. “There was always a choice.” Her eyes turned on Aren. “What do you think he would’ve done in the same position? Do you think he’d have slaughtered an innocent man just to save himself?”
No.
“Selfish little cockroach, always putting herself first. Although I can seewhyyou decided to remain around after you plunged the knife in his back.” She trailed a finger down Aren’s bare chest. “What a prize he is. They didn’t tell usthatduring our lessons at the compound. I might have put him through his paces a few times myself before slitting his throat.”
Fury seared through Lara’s chest, and she unclipped her knife from its jeweled hilt, though the thought of hurting her sister made her sick. “Don’t touch him.”
Marylyn pursed her lips. “Why? Because he’s yours? For one, he’s rightfully mine. Two, even if I intended to leave him alive, which I don’t, do you really think he’s going to want anything to do with you now that he understands what kind of woman you are? When he finds out what you’vedone?”
“I’ve done nothing.”
Reaching into her pocket, Marylyn extracted a heavy piece of parchment edged with gold.
