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The voices fade out, and I stare at the floor. My eyes sting. The charm is somehow not dust yet, though that makes sense according to what Kirran said of enchanted objects. It still bears only deep cracks but is otherwise intact. The green glow has tripled, and the beat has quickened. Not so sluggish. Not so dead.
That’s five so far, isn’t it?
“I’m so sorry, Mother,” I murmur.
Then I crush the shoe again.Six.Again.Seven.
With each crunch, another moment ripples through me, taking its rightful place in the past. My father’s voice asking about my mother’s heritage. An older, different woman admitting that she and her husband found my mother as an orphan. Then her again, her voice hushed now, relaying rumors of the Derian king searching for an illegitimate, firstborn daughter.
Eight.
Vallda and me as little girls, playing under a flowering tree.
Nine.
Rot spreading from her hands.The ground turning brown around us.
Ten.
Decay surging into the tree. White petals raining to the dead grass. Spiraling around Vallda and flooding her face. Screams for help.
Eleven.
Me standing there in tears, trying but unable to make the petals stop.
Air catches in my throat. The memories swirl against intrinsic, returning knowledge. Vallda’s friend wasn’t just a noblewoman but a memorist. A memorist who had offered to enter my memories so I could understand why Vallda hated me so much growing up. So we could heal our relationship and maybe become civil stepsisters. Even friends.
A moment they must’ve stolen from me, so I wouldn’t know. Wouldn’t remember that I gave them that permission. That I granted them access into my mind.
But they didn’t just tamper with those old, forgotten memories. They crafted new ones.
Struggling to control my breathing, I raise my foot once more and bring it down as hard as I can.
Twelve.
Like an almost translucent cloud has consumed Reena’s quarters, I am no longer fully in her room. I also stand in my stepmother’s quarters.
And I’m not alone.
ChapterSeventeen
KIRRAN
While Alia’s stepfamily evidently — and condemningly — left the palace for the day as if they knew I’d want words, my father is right where I expect him. As the first cool tones of dusk envelop the world, I find him in his study with General Zeccar and a handful of other officers. At my entry, they fall silent and look over. The door shuts behind me with a thud.
I step to the right of the entrance and fold my hands behind my back. “Gentlemen. Father.”
The soldiers greet me with salutes.
“Kirran.” My father folds his hands atop his desk. His eyes narrow in thought.
Zeccar peers between us and offers my father a quick bow. “If it pleases Your Majesty, we will take our leave.”
“Yes.” My father waves a hand at him. “I’ll find you at the masquerade, General.”
“Very good, sire.” Zeccar motions to the other officers and spins on his heel. They file out in front of him. As he passes me, he winks and mutters under his breath, “Hope I left him in a good mood for you.”
“Thanks.” I exchange a smirk with him as he slips into the hall.
