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He snatched up the cup in front of Zoya and lifted it, sniffing its contents. The smell was subtle, but he picked up hints of Lenthenae.
Lenthenae poison. One that killed your opponent while the administrator received the lost years of their victim added onto their own lifespan.
A sudden intake of breath had him glancing over at Odette. She was holding her arm, the skull on her wrist fading from her skin.
He slammed the cup down. “You did this on purpose.”
The queen appeared shocked. “My dear Rothbart, why would I possibly want to poison your sister? After all, I believed her to be dead.”
“You are the one who ordered her killed. You are the benefactor of the skull pact. You have been trying to kill her to keep your hold on the throne.”
“Whatever are you saying—”
“Don’t lie to me,” Rothbart seethed. “I know Stellyta was the wife of Prince Albert. Zoya is their child.”
The queen shook her head. “Well dammit. You are a persistent one, aren’t you?” A clever gleam came into her eyes. “Tell me, how did you find out?”
How quickly she dropped her pretense shouldn’t have surprised him, but part of him was still adjusting to his queen being his sister’s killer.
The chaos in his mind calmed as he settled on a course of action. All was not lost. Yet. Zoya’s death wouldn’t be permanent until the sun rose. He stepped around the desk, fists balled.
And the queen’s death would awaken his sister.
He lunged for her, but an unexpected force bowled into him, lifting him off his feet, shoving him back until he hit the wall. His limbs were pinned, making him unable to move.
Kilron smiled, shaking a finger at him. “Now, now, my friend. We mustn’t attack the queen.”
“Thank you, my sweet.” The queen walked over to Kilron and brushed a kiss across his lips.
Kilron smiled. “Anything for you, my queen.”
Rothbart strained against the power holding him. He knew it was useless, but the adrenaline in him, and the panic coursing through his veins, demanded he try. Pain lanced through his muscles at the effort, until he forced himself to stop. There was nothing he could do. A low cry of despair issued out of him.
He’d failed his parents. He’d failed Zoya. Again.
And it was because he was no better than the queen or Kilron. They relied on their power, used it to get what they wanted, while destroying those who stood in their way. Rothbart had been too like them, depending on his position and power to find Zoya’s intended killer, to keep the swans captive, to move against Odette. To hold himself responsible for his parents’ death.
And now, in the instant that he needed it most, that power failed him, leaving him with… what? All the people he had trusted were the same as him.
He was stripped of everything.
Zoya was going to die, and he couldn’t stop it.
“And what of you?” Emiranda turned away from Kilron and stepped toward Odette.
Odette didn’t move as if pinned in place. “What about me?”
The false queen stepped up to her, looking her over. “I saved you from your own skull pact.” She reached up and brushed Odette’s hair aside, before running a finger over the mark on her skin where Rothbart had bitten her. “Where do your loyalties lie?”
Odette’s gaze flicked to Rothbart, then took in Zoya’s motionless form in the chair. Last, she studied Kilron before facing Emiranda.
Her expression hardened. “With you, my queen.”
The false queen tilted her head. “Are you sure?”
A cold emptiness filled her face as she looked at Rothbart, making him shiver. “He made me his captive.”
“He did.” Emiranda stepped back to her desk, popping open the drawer.
