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I can’t hear past the ringing in my ears. Can’t speak. Can’t even breathe.
All I feel is the pounding of my heart. All I see is my mother’s broken body lying on the floor.
Her eyes are still open, her face twisted in fear.
And in her palm is my father’s ring…
Is this how he went, too? Did Damian snap his neck? Did he suffer?
Lawrence moves in front of me. He’s talking, but I don’t make out the words until one finally permeates my consciousness.
Wife.
My wife. Aika, who is out there, in the hands of a sadistic rapist.
The thought is enough to pull me out of my momentary shock.
Sound rushes back in, loud and overwhelming. Lawrence’s questions, Einar’s furious pacing, Khijhana’s wheezing breaths.
It felt as if the world had stopped for hours or days as I watched my mother’s death, but a look at the clock tells me it’s only been minutes.
My head snaps toward the doors, and I call for the soldiers in the hall.
“Find my sisters and bring them to me,” I order, careful not to allow more panic to take hold of me. I have to trust that they are alive and somewhere in the palace.
I can’t have lost everything and everyone in one day.
I can’t…
They stare at my mother’s body until Lawrence snaps at them to go. Then he turns to me, the obvious question written all over his face.
“Madame,” I say quietly. “But as far as anyone else is concerned, we don’t know the assailant’s identity, and Lady Delmara left before all hell broke loose.”
Lawrence nods his understanding.
The only consolation I have right now is the knowledge that Aika will live. Madame showed her hand with Zaina, and she won’t kill my wife.She can’t kill my wife.
But there are things worse than death.
Einar roars, his hands slamming down on the table in front of him. It splinters and breaks. It’s oddly comforting, knowing that he is just as furious, just as desperate as I am.
This isn’t over. It can’t be.
I wrack my brain for something else to do. There are so many pieces, so many things to take care of, all of them warring for dominance in my mind.
“We need the caretakers from the menagerie,” I say, and Lawrence calls for another guard to follow the order.
More hurried steps echo down the hall, and I know who they belong to before my sisters even round the corner. Tears are running down Chloé and Gisele’s faces, but Margot holds fast to her stoicism.
Someone already told them.
Good,I think bitterly. It’s better that it’s not a surprise. Bad enough I will need to tell them about Papa.
They look from me down to our mother’s lifeless body on the floor. Chloé grabs her stomach as if she’s going to be sick, while Gisele throws herself on top of Maman’s body.
Pumpkin leaps from her shoulder to look around for his person in vain.
My grief twists inside me like a blade, threatening to bleed me dry.
