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My throat tightens at the gesture. Tightens more at the urge to push her back, place myself between them and her again. But I don’t. Her river-deep eyes lock in, and she steps closer, reaching for my other hand.
“It’s okay. I’m okay.” Her fingers coil around mine, thread between them. Warmth prickles up my arms. “I remember everything now.”
“They hurt you.” I choke as I speak. “They hurtus. This istreason. Theydeserve—”
“I know.” She squeezes my hands. Tears fill her eyes. “I know what they deserve. But they’re people, Kirran. They need to stand trial. Justice must be impartial. They have information we need.” Her chin trembles, but she holds her ground. Holds my hands like they’re not stained with all the blood I’ve spilled. “Killing them right now isn’t justice. This is the right choice. You don’t have to bear more lives on your conscience.”
I peer past her shoulder at the cowering, half-dead women. Then at Zeccar, whose gaze remains on the floor between his hands. He shivers more than the others. He alone would know how close they came to death. How easily I could end them even now, in seconds, with one thought or flick of my hand. He’s surely the one who overheard my father and me talking about Alia, wouldn’t forget a single word we’d said. He’d probably decided then how to get me to join him on the frontline.
Heshouldtremble before me.
“You all stand as witnesses.” I glance around the ballroom.
Faces of twisted horror and shock gape back at me. A handful of the women cover their mouths or touch their foreheads. Whether it’s because of my actions or my bare hands and arms, it doesn’t matter.
“These four conspired against a prince of Hazal — twice — and sought to gain power through deceit and illegal illusion-casting. They have interfered with a royal engagement —twice. And tonight, they also kidnapped and attempted to murder the betrothed of the crown prince.” I lower my voice. “I would be remiss to ignore the possibility that their plans share ties to the assassination of Crown Prince Farrid. As well as the deaths of both Prince Sammir and Prince Rassul.”
Gasps sweep through the crowd.
Tajanna begins to protest. I take a step toward her. She shrinks away from me and puts her face back to the floor. A shudder goes through her.
“I hereby charge them all with treason.” I level my gaze at each of the three in turn, though none meet my eyes. “My bride insists that you are to be given a fair trial. In the days to follow, the depth of your treachery will be exposed, as will any remaining co-conspirators who think they will escape me. Your cooperation — or lack thereof — will determine your ultimate fates. Do not assume that because I have shown mercy once that I will not level all the power of the law at you.”
Silence engulfs the ballroom. I don’t look, but surely every eye is on me. Like I’m the enemy, the monster. I don’t care. I know what I am.
And I know what I want to be.
“Bring a healer,” I order.
A handful of fey peer around. Another handful separate themselves from the crowd and start over. I signal to some of the soldiers nearby.
“As soon as they’re fully healed, take them to the dungeon. If they try anything, chain them up.” I scan the ballroom until I find Alia’s pale-faced stepmother and other stepsister in the crowd. “Take Lady Indirra and Devikka too.”
The older woman’s face blanches more, and she levels dagger-like eyes at Vallda. Her daughter doesn’t meet her blazing stare. Devikka’s face crumbles.
The soldiers nod in unison, and I shift to face Alia.
But she has her gaze on my hands — my bare hands. I’d stripped off the gloves when I left to find her. My stomach lurches on instinct. Though there’s no hiding it now.
“Kirran…” Her whisper sets me on edge. “Look.”
I follow her stare. And my blood chills.
The color hasn’t changed; the inky mahogany still mars my skin. Yet amid the stain, shimmering green vines swirl, rising from my fingertips and reaching beyond where the red branches stop. Flowers adorn the vines — pink, purple, yellow, orange, white.
But mostly, sky blue.
“I don’t…” I frown and try in vain to blink back tears. “What is this?”
“Life.” Alia’s soft voice bears the same incredulousness mine does. Tears glimmer in her eyes as well as she lifts them to me. As does that sheen, a living current. “It’s…my magic. To bring life. To restore it.”
I swallow hard. Repeat the words in my head. Then shake it and clear my throat instead. “How…do you have magic?”
ChapterTwenty-One
KIRRAN
Alia starts to answer me, but an airy, weak voice splits the quiet first.
