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By the time I reach her room, my breaths are even and my steps are casual.
“You’re back.” Her voice is smooth and low, slicing through the room like the freshly sharpened edge of a knife.
Her long nails clack against the arm of her gilded throne. They’re a deep red tonight, the color of fresh blood.
“I came as soon as I could.” My tone is contrite, but not guilty. A tenuous balance.
“Did you really?” Her melodic voice raises with the inflection of her question.
A shiver slithers up my back and I’m not foolish enough to think it’s from the cold night air. Footsteps echo through the cavernous room before I can gather my voice to speak.
Damian can walk just as silently as I can, when he wants to. But he’s not bothering to hide his presence. The sound of his stride is filled with confidence. A surety of his place here, of his power.
A cold smile tugs at my lips, knowing that conviction won’t last long.
“Of course, Mother. I have been eager to return to give you a full report.” The lie slips off my tongue.
I look from Damian’s soulless eyes to Madame’s, whose are even emptier. Then I utter the words that I sincerely hope will be my dear brother’s downfall, the entire crux of my half-arsed plan.
“I would have gotten here sooner if Damian hadn’t tried to ruin everything.”
If I expected him to be shocked, I would have been disappointed. Mother’s eyebrow twitches, but Damian’s features only belie the same smugness that has radiated off him since he waltzed in.
“Honestly, Aika,” he says in a bored tone. “You really would say anything to save your skin. Or is it someone else you’re concerned about protecting?”
The words are casual, but the hawklike look in his eyes tells me he knows he’s hit his mark. It takes everything I have to keep the blood from draining from my face, to keep from showing any sign that his accusation hits home.
Madame is watching us both so, so closely.
I force a scoff. “Is that the lie you’ve spun to avoid letting Mother know how you attacked me? I had to land myself in the dungeons just to keep you from destroying everything Mother and I worked for.”
The hypocrisy of my words twists something inside of me.
Setting him up to fall is one thing. The twinge of disloyalty I feel is another.
Even breaths. Steady heartbeat.This is necessary. Every word of it.
And I’m banking on the kernels of truth to add believability to my story. He did attack me, and he did force me to land myself in the dungeons. Only my rationale is a lie.
“Don’t pretend to care about what Mother has worked for when you’ve beensetting fireto her empire—”
“You’d know all about setting fire to things Mother cares about.” Bringing up Zaina is a cheap way to undermine Damian, but I need all the help I can get.
I save the other part, the part where I insinuate that I know what he did to her. That could have implications, and I can’t bring it out unless I am forced to.
His eyes tighten. Even Mother stiffens, but I go on, speaking to both of them. “You know it never made any sense that I was the vigilante. If I had wanted to damage Mother’s empire, there would have been easier and more effective ways than making a spectacle of myself for the sake of a handful of slavers.”
Another truth. If that had been about hurting her rather than the slavers, there were much better targets for those blazes.
“I heard you with the prince,” Damian snarls.
I almost smile.
It’s difficult to make him lose his composure, and I always feel a sense of victory when I manage it. But I sneer instead, adding an eye roll for good measure.
“You heard half of a conversation where I was spinning a very necessary lie, and you’re so desperate to be Mommy’s favorite that you twisted it until you could justify taking me out of the ranks. It’s funny how her daughters keep coming to harm under your watch. Remind me, Damian, what did happen to Zaina?”
Before he can respond, Madame is between us, cracking through the room as fast as lightning, wrapping her hands firmly around both of our necks.
