Chapter 15

CHAPTERFIFTEEN

Cedrik answersthe door after one knock.

“Princess,” he says, holding the door open wide and beckoning me in. His head swivels, checking the hallway in both directions before he closes the door behind us. “We haven’t much time.” Lines mar his face.

Nodding in understanding, I take a seat on one of the cots next to a table crowded with a variety of tonics.

“Listen to me,” Cedrik says. “The transference is taking its toll on you. You sought me out due to another dizzy spell. That’s the story.”

His first matter of business is to ensure we’re on the same page, that our stories line up, for when Mother seeks me out, which she will, as soon as she can. She’ll want to determine why her beloved vessel failed her for the first time. She can’t know I never took a sacrifice—that I purposely refused her demands and am no longer subject to her myndox manipulation.

I’m glad Cedrik has a plan, even if it means he has betrayed Hakran by working with our Stellari visitors behind our backs. But then again, what they’re doing is in the best interest of my people. They’re really only betraying Mother. Right?

After all these games and lies, I’m not sure how I’ll ever fully trust anyone again, but for the time being, I’m grateful to have others on my side against Mother.

“How long?” I ask him.

The lines in his forehead deepen in confusion, so I clarify. “How long have you been working with the Vannyks against Mother?”

Holding eye contact with me, showing not an ounce of remorse or embarrassment, he exhales deeply. “It’s not as simple as that, dear girl.”

I open my mouth for a retort, but he gently shakes his head. “Please. We are not afforded much time. Your mother knows something is up, and she’s planning to imprison the Stellari king and queen, along with their son. Her next step will be to assume control of their cavalry, if she hasn’t already. We planned for her to take the army but not for her to imprison the Vannyks. If she succeeds, everyone will be at risk. You need to stop this.”

“And how exactly am I to do that? If she’s as powerful as we all fear, we won’t be able to stop her.”

“This is why we need to work together, and quickly.” He takes my hands within his grasp.

“Does Dash know?”

Cedrik rubs his forehead. “No. I overheard chatter in the kitchen. It’s not the most reliable, but we have to consider it.”

“Then we need to warn him—warn the Vannyks so they can be prepared.”

“We will. But do not worry much. They’re the only hope in freeing the Hakranians. They’re the only ones who care.”

“Why do they even care, Cedrik? What does it matter to them?” I’m grateful that someone’s paying attention to the horrid woman playing with everyone’s lives, but we’re such a small, isolated island. Mother’s games surely don’t affect the continent, so what’s in it for them? Everybody wants something.

Heaviness settles in my stomach, and a wave of heat consumes my body.

“Their ancestors were from Hakran. This land belonged to their family, long ago,” he says quietly.

“So they want the throne then?”

Scratching his neck, he glances away. “It’s likely.”

“Fucking Dash!” He has to know this. Omitting the truth is every bit as ugly as lying. Every time we take one small step forward, we fall three back. It’s hard to give him the benefit of the doubt and trust him when he keeps such important things from me. “That’s my throne.” The vehemence of my words surprises me, and Cedrik’s eyes widen with my admission. I’ve never considered taking Mother’s throne. Never thought I’d be the one to rule one day. But if she is deposed, I’m certain I can provide better leadership for the island I know and love.

“The Vannyks are good people, Princess. I urge you to work together to take Enira down. What comes after doesn’t matter so long as she’s neutralized. They’re powerful enough.”

“How powerful exactly?”

“Their own myndox power runs deeper than they’ve let on,” he says. “With the exception of that guard of theirs, the family can use their myndox powers to cast a barrier of sorts and protect the minds of others. It’s weak, and the reach isn’t anything to brag about, but it’s a start.”

So Dash can read minds, and his family can cast protections from invasive myndox powers. I knew there was more to them. I knew it from that first breakfast. Something seemed off. Granted, it makes sense why they kept the extent of their power a secret. It gives them the upper hand.

“So for instance, if Zale is nearby, he can protect those around him from Mother’s manipulation?”

Cedrik nods carefully. “Temporarily. It breaks the hold she has on them and protects from further influence, but only while they’re close. Once they’re no longer in proximity, the protections fade.” He scratches his jaw, a pained expression crossing his face.

Chewing on my bottom lip, I wonder if I can help the Vannyks take Mother down. Could I use my transference ability to boost their power like I did for Mother? Even if I could, it would require taking the life force of others—likely many others—in order to make a significant difference. Mother’s power grew over seventeen years of weekly sacrifices, not to mention all the prisoners I practiced on, which likely kickstarted her surge of power in the very beginning.

Even if it increases our chances of winning against her, I can’t massacre people. And if the Vannyks are as kind and just as everyone keeps telling me they are, they’ll never accept that as an option.

Cedrik fiddles with some drying herbs on the wall beside his door, drawing my attention back to him.

“If your mother succeeds in locking them away, they’ll be useless. And the silenxstone in the pit will inhibit what little protections they can offer.”

“When is she planning to imprison them?”

“Tonight.”

I’ve lived in this palace for twenty-three years and can’t remember a time when Mother used the pit. There is so little crime these days that the main prison currently sits decaying on a small island to the northeast of Hakran. I’m starting to realize there’s no crime because Mother literally doesn’t allow it; she uses her power to control her citizens. The last time there were prisoners was almost fourteen years ago, before I cleared them out while training to hone my power.

Was I really training to use my magic though? Or has Mother been manipulating me into giving her life force all along? Has she always been using me? Do I know the truth about anything, or is everything I know based on lies fed to me by the Dead Queen?

“After you speak with your mother, if it’s too late and the Vannyks are already imprisoned, you need to get Dash to the cells—by whatever means necessary—and he can do the rest from there.”

The implication isn’t lost on me. By whatever means necessary I am to become a weapon. I must use my powers if needed to gain entrance to the pit and free the Vannyks. Since the silenxstone will numb my powers once we enter, Dash will need to use his skills as a warrior to take on any guards patrolling the pit.

“If I do this, I’m betraying my mother. There will be no going back,” I say.

“You are doing this for Hakran, for your people, Princess. Or should I say, Queen.” He smiles broadly, despite the pain in his eyes, and it kicks my nerves into overdrive. The people of our beautiful island deserve freedom. They shouldn’t have to gamble with their lives, bowing to a woman who leaves them starving while she feeds on their souls.

“What if I just kill her myself?” I couldn’t do it during the fake transference earlier, but with this new knowledge and the affirmation that I’m not alone, I could. For Hakran, I would.

“If she dies at your hand, you will forfeit your seat on the throne, per the goddess’s law.”

Giving up the throne is a huge sacrifice, one I’m not sure I’m willing to make. I can’t simply hand my throne over to the Vannyks, especially when I don’t know for a fact they have Hakran’s best interest at heart. They’re playing their own games, so how can I be certain they’re any better than Mother?

Ilona.

Gianna.

Marnie.

Jamell.

Those are only a few of the people who would be subjected to a new ruler. The Hakranian people aren’t faceless or nameless—they’re mothers, fathers, sisters, cousins, friends, lovers. They deserve better. It’s my duty as their princess to protect them.

“I’m not willing to give that up.”

“Then we need to do this according to the Vannyks’ plan.”

“Fine. I’m in.” My hands begin to tremble and I say a quick silent prayer to the goddess.

* * *

“You worthless imbecile,” Mother screeches as she blows through Cedrik’s door not even five minutes later. “I’ve been searching all over the grounds for you. You humiliated me.”

An inferno rages in her black eyes, and I swallow a lump of pure fear. Dash told me I’m safe from her now. She cannot invade my mind. Cannot harm me. For once in my life, I have the upper hand.

“I’m sorry, Mother.” I cast my eyes down and attempt to shrink into myself as a safeguard. I act like the failed transference was a mere accident, that I’m still weak and compliant, but inside my violent wrath flickers to life. “I-I don’t know what happened. I felt weird. Sick and—”

Her hand lashes out, colliding with my cheek. My head jerks the side with the impact. Disbelief consumes me, and my mouth drops open as I stare at her, wondering how I’ve been so blind for so long.

Because she manipulated me, as she does everyone else in her life.

My hand reaches for my cheek, in denial that she just hit me, despite the radiating sting there.

One.

Two.

Three.

As the three of us stand there wordlessly, I count my breaths, nice and steady, fisting my hand around my pants to prevent myself from returning the gesture. Flashes of red invade my sight, and there’s a stabbing pain in my chest. Pure, visceral anger swirls inside of me. I’m about to lose any calm I’ve been pretending to have.

Fuck the throne. I’m going to kill this bitch right now!

“Queen, if I may,” Cedrik interrupts the deafening silence and draws my attention away from her. Terror flashes across his features. “Princess Astrid—”

“She is no princess,” Mother spits. Her words are poison, her own brand of venom. “It is the vessel, gifted by the goddesses to ensure your queen is fit to rule for many lifetimes to come.”

The third-person reference to herself irritates me more than the words she used. I try hard to stifle the emotions that are desperate to pour out of me. They mingle with her incoming feelings of annoyance, rage, and disbelief. It’s as if she can’t fathom how or why her little vessel couldn’t do its job and serve a life force up on a silver platter.

Without the sweet tonic to dampen the emotions, I need to work as hard as ever to stay undisturbed by the waves of fury rolling off her. I can’t let them overtake me.

“Apologies, Queen.” Cedrik tilts his chin down and pauses dramatically in an approximation of a respectful gesture. He’s faking. It’s meant simply to stroke her ego. “She—it is sick. I believe the toll of weekly transferences is too high for the vessel.”

“It can take an extra life to keep. That should recharge it, should it not, healer?”

I bristle at the implication that she might force me to take two lives now instead of one. This isn’t how I envisioned the plan going, but I should’ve figured Mother wouldn’t be so easy to fool. She’s conceited. A narcissist. But she isn’t daft.

“I-I—cannot say, my queen.” Anger flashes briefly across his features, and I’m glad Mother’s eyes are on me. Clearly he didn’t anticipate her reaction. We should’ve had a backup plan. Of course Mother wouldn’t believe I was simply sick or that my powers were weakened. She needs me too much—rather, she needs my powers too much. Obviously she’ll stop at nothing to fix her vessel.

Narrowing her stormy eyes at me menacingly, she glides to the door and flings it open.

“Enter,” she commands to whoever’s on the other side.

Two girls with tear-tracks on their cheeks enter the room wide eyed. Whatever Mother has in store for them, clearly they’re frightened. For good reason, I’d imagine. I don’t like where this is going.

Distress and hopelessness emanate from the girls. Their fear mixes with my own, threatening to push me over the edge and destroy my carefully constructed facade of calmness.

The girls are both dressed in plain white frocks, their feet bare. When they slowly raise their heads to take in their surroundings, I recognize one from the kitchen. She’s new, and I haven’t learned her name yet. She refuses to meet my gaze. The other raises her eyes to mine, terror marring her features.

“Gianna,” I gasp, barely recognizing my favorite handmaiden through my flooded eyes.

“I shall let you choose first, dear daughter.” She pushes Gianna’s shoulder, forcing her to stumble forward. “My treat. One for you, and one for me.”

Gianna’s eyes go wide at the revelation that I’m the vessel and she’s here as a sacrifice. In another life, we could’ve been true friends, but not in this one.

Streams of tears run down my own cheeks, and my hand flies to my mouth. I can’t do this. Mother’s going to know I’m immune to her powers, because I cannot do this. I’m going to ruin the entire plan, but I will not take these innocent lives only to please my vile mother.

When Mother’s glee leaks into my mind, it’s the final straw. Unable to hold myself back any longer, I screech, giving in to my desire to take her life no matter the cost.

“You heartless fucking swine!” Lurching toward her, I let the shocks of anger take over, latching onto her arm. She doesn’t back away or flinch from my touch. In fact, her villainous smile grows.

“I should mention two things, before you decide on your next move, daughter dearest,” she says with a smug look. “One, you cannot take my life force.”

Closing my eyes, I ignore her words, focusing instead on drawing her life force out.

But—

Nothing happens.

Despite my inability to go through with it during the transference ceremony, I truly intend to murder this woman—my mother—right here and now. My claim to the throne be damned. I want nothing more in this moment than to cripple her, to watch as her as unseeing eyes focus on the ceiling above me. This wretched, sick excuse of a woman, of a mother.

Flames lick at my insides, my disgust for her burning me from the inside out.

But I hit a wall, like I did when attempting to pull Dash’s emotions out.

Something is stopping me.

“Tsk, tsk, tsk.” She pries my fingers off her arm with those blood-red claws and pushes me away. I stumble back, confused. My head pounds from the invading emotions of the four other people in the room. “Obviously I have taken precautions. You think me a fool?”

“How?” I shout. Impossible! How is she immune to my powers? She isn’t. She shouldn’t be. There’s something she’s using as a shield—a safeguard of sorts—to stop me. I need to find out what it is, but visceral rage clouds any rational thoughts I have at the moment.

Reaching into my waistband, I rip the dagger free, snarling at her.

“Two,” she says, ignoring me. “A bloodthirsty guard of mine is keeping your precious, wild-haired friend company. If I fail to return unharmed in a timely manner, she shall perish at his hand.” Mother twirls a strand of dark hair around her slender finger, eyeing my own with disgust. My feet turn to lead. Her words crash over me, causing me to hesitate instead of charging at her with my blade. “I could force you to complete this task wordlessly, but I find it is much more rewarding to remind you of the power I hold over you. You must not forget who is in charge of your life. Of Ilona’s.”

Stepping closer, I stand nose-to-nose with the woman who supposedly birthed me—an almost unbelievable feat considering her cruelty toward me. No mother should treat their child like this. I’m shorter, so she looks down, cocking a brow at me. Her putrid breath spoils the air between us. In this moment, I know she’s aware I’ve broken her hold. Worse than that, she knows she’s won this battle.

I can’t kill her with my power. I can’t even hurt her the old-fashioned way, or she will kill Ilona.

Sheathing my dagger, I step back. My eyelids flutter shut, and I silently count down from ten, trying to regain control before leveling a hard stare at her.

“If you allow that guard to touch her. If you harm her—”

“What will you do, daughter?” She claps her hands with delight. “Do enlighten me.”

My fingers itch to snag my dagger again, but she only chuckles, as if I’m all too predictable. “Go ahead. If I do not return to Bellis within twenty minutes, he has explicit instructions to slit the throat of that freckled girl of yours.”

My hands pause as I battle with my own emotions. The angry, impulsive side of me begs to end this. To end her. But my logical side reminds me of the cost: losing Ilona.

I can’t lose Ilona.

She has no one else to protect her.

Cedrik shakes his head, eyes silently pleading me not to do anything rash.

Stepping back, I grind my molars together and stare her down, refusing to flinch at the pure hatred on her face.

One.

Two.

Three.

I’m barely hanging on and won’t be able to stay in control for much longer. I need to escape before I do something I’ll regret.

“If I complete your tasks, Ilona is unharmed,” I say through clenched teeth. It’s not a question. My eyes squeeze together as my heart pounds furiously in my chest. My head is light, and it feels as if I’m floating. Dreaming. Having some unfathomable nightmare.

“Of course. What kind of monster do you think I am?”

Scoffing, I stare unblinkingly into her emotionless eyes. “The worst kind.”

I turn to face Gianna, and my heart twists at what I find in her face. There’s no begging, no pleading. Only simple understanding. Forgiveness that I don’t deserve. She looks me straight in the eye and offers me a small smile.

“It’s okay, Astrid.” Her face is red and raw from crying, covered in snot and tears. Black kohl runs down her cheeks, disrupting her normally perfect appearance.

My throat is so thick I can’t respond. All I can do is fight my own tears as I return her gaze, refusing to shy away. I tip my chin down until it hits my chest, the deepest show of respect I can give her.

Her life or Ilona’s, I remind myself. It’s not a decision I’d wish on my worst enemy. It should be more difficult, but as much as it kills me, Ilona will always come first.

As I place my hands on Gianna’s forearms, she whispers something so low only I can hear it. “Don’t let her ruin you.”

With those final words crushing my ribcage, I force an inhale and draw her energy into my own body. Waves of pleasure consume me, warming my veins and temporarily silencing all the other emotions vibrating through the room. My hand glows with a golden hue. Trying to fight the gratification is no use—so I let it in, accept it for what it is at this moment: a reprieve. All other thoughts fall to the wayside as I pull Gia’s life force into my own body, sucking her dry of every last drop. Her body drops to the ground in a crumpled heap, her face dry and hollow. No youth left. No life.

In moments, she went from a vibrant young woman with a sparkle in her eye to nothing more than a crumpled piece of paper—used up and tossed aside.

She will never wake me with her cheery, unwavering voice again. She will never draw another eucalyptus bath or bring me another egg frittata. She will never set out my favorite outfit again. I will never share laughter with her again, or indulge in the latest palace gossip.

Gianna is no more.

Because of me.

The other girl trembles so hard her teeth clatter together. She watches in silence, staring at me in fear, begging me with her sorrowful eyes. Not my mother, me.

It’s like a knife to the gut. I double over, exhaling sharply as the waves of emotion hit me again now that Gianna’s life force absorption is over.

“Please, Mother. That’s enough. Don’t make me do this,” I beg. It sounds pathetic even to my own ears, but I don’t care. She has the audacity to laugh—hand on her stomach, tears in her eyes, laugh—at my request.

“No. Two lives. One for you, one for me. That was the deal. Unless you would prefer to sacrifice your little Ilona.”

A choking noise leaves my throat, and I am utterly defeated as I turn back to the young girl.

“What’s your name?” I grit out. I mean to ask softly, but I can’t. It comes out harsher than I intend, and she takes a step away from me.

“Ch-Chancy,” she says, teeth clacking.

Mother shoots me an icy stare, reminding me that Ilona’s life is on the line if I don’t hurry this along.

“I’m sorry, Chancy. Truly.” I will never forget you.

Her eyes glisten; her nose is red and covered in snot. Sweat mats her chestnut bangs to her brow. Shaking her head vigorously, she tries to protest, to plead one last time for her life.

Trying not to drag it out and make it more painful than it has to be, I snag her arm in my hands.

Unlike Gia, who held my stare the entire time, Chancy refuses to look in my direction. Hatred exudes from her, sickening me to my core. Howls leave her mouth, slowly fading as I yank her life force away.

Consuming her whole.

Again, I relish the all too brief flutters of gratification. A moan leaves my mouth in response to the heady attainment. I’ve never absorbed more than one life force at a time. Even as a child, when I would drain the prisoners, I transferred them directly to Mother one at a time.

This is intoxicating. Pure bliss. My eyes threaten to roll back in my head, but I fight to keep them open, meeting Cedrik’s sorrowful gaze. A tear falls down his cheek, sobering me slightly, but it does nothing to dull the invigoration.

Thump.

Chancy’s body falls to the ground like a rag doll, her white frock swallowing her desiccated body whole.

It’s a sickening sight—a girl no more than fifteen, a handmaiden I could’ve called a friend or at the very least protected, in another life. Side by side the two corpses lie.

I executed them.

All because I tried to disobey Mother.

Had I refused Dash and accepted a sacrifice at the bacchanal, I could’ve taken the life of someone willing instead. Even if they were only willing because Mother had influenced their minds, it would’ve been less painful than this. The person would have at least been under the illusion they were dying with contentment, believing they were giving their life for a worthy cause. They would’ve gone peacefully.

The way these two girls passed was the opposite of tranquil. It was the most excruciating thing I’ve ever experienced in my life, and it’s something I’ll have to carry forever. A penalty I deserve.

I’ve taken hundreds of lives over the years, but these two feel different. I could’ve washed the bloodstains of all the other sacrifices off my hands, knowing they were a result of Mother’s power over me, but these two were my choice. It was a nearly impossible choice, but one I still made. Perhaps I’m truly experiencing how despicable this is because I’m no longer under Mother’s control. I hate myself almost as much as I hate the monster before me.

Mother snaps her slender fingers, gesturing for me to hurry.

My jaw clenches so tight a headache builds in my temples. Stepping over Gia’s lifeless body, I place a hand on Mother’s bare arm, staring at the wall of potions and tonics beside her instead of into her cruel eyes.

As I begin the transference, I meet resistance, as if the life force does not want to leave me, does not want to enter her wicked body. Electric pain shoots through my body, and I cry out, trying not to fight the process.

I control the transferred amount, choosing to give her as little as I possibly can to content her. Just enough to satiate her without her knowing I’m ripping her off. The less I can give her, the better.

When I’m finished, instead of feeling drained, I feel more energetic, my senses more heightened than normal. For the first time ever, I truly carry another’s life force in my body. Despite the extra energy, that’s anything but comforting. I’m ashamed and appalled.

Gianna and Chancy are dead, and I can’t take that back, but I refuse to let it have been in vain. I will use whatever life remains of them in my own veins to exact revenge on Mother.

I am a murderer. A killer. A slaughterer.

I’m no better than her.

A vile, despicable creature. A monster.

The rage, guilt, and shame inside me continue to build, growing and forming into something uncontainable, pressing on my head from the inside out until—

“ARGHHHHHH!” I explode, grabbing my hair with both hands, shrieking until my lungs burn. Tears fall; I’m completely consumed by sorrow and pity. “I will gut you like a boar, you sick woman!”

Picking up one of Cedrik’s tonics, I chuck it at the wall as hard as I can. The temptation to use one of the broken shards of glass to slit open her pretty little neck is overwhelming, so I grip onto a chair with both hands, fighting to hold myself back from lashing out.

Goddess have mercy on her poor soul. With a devil of a mother—

Deceitful little swine. If she tries that again, I will rip that redheaded girl’s throat out with my bare hands.

Enira will pay for what she did, heartless witch. She will never be my queen.

Cedrik’s and Mother’s voices swamp my head, overlapping and overwhelming me.

“Stop it!” I screech out, lifting my hands to my ears. “Stop talking! STOP TALKING!”

“A disgrace,” Mother says. It’s only because she actually spoke the words aloud this time that I realize the voices were in my head.

Dash’s magic.

Mind reading.

No.

This is not happening. Not now.

Poor girl. Poor girl. What has her mother done to her?

Pathetic. What a worthless—

“Please! Please just stop!” My voice is pleading, desperate. It’s out of place. It’s no use. The noise increases, and I realize with revulsion that I can’t stop their thoughts from invading me.

It’s robbing me of the little sanity I have left.

“Fuck you, Dashiel Dargan!” I screech, my voice raw. I blame him for this firestorm of emotions and voices burning me alive. I sob until I’m hiccuping uncontrollably, gasping for air.

“Queen Enira, I warned you she cannot handle the transf—”

Mother puts a hand up, warning him to stop. “Fix this, Cedrik. I refuse to entertain these dramatics.” She turns on her heel, floating to the door.

“You heartless bitch!” I roar, chucking more tonics at her retreating back.

Cedrik steps toward me, but I wave him away, unable to bear anymore of his pitying thoughts.

This room is too small. I can’t breathe with Gianna and Chancy’s bodies lying crumpled at my feet. I can’t be here a moment longer.

Fleeing the room, I leave his sympathy behind, flinching away from every guard and servant I see along the way. I try to put space between us, to mute their voices.

It doesn’t work, and various phrases flit through my skull, as if my mind is a magnet attracting their words.

What’s wrong with the princess?

She’s just like her mother.

Is she all right?”

I knew there was something wrong with her.

I would still pity fuck her.

“Shut the fuck up!” I yell at everyone and no one, clawing at my hair. This is an intrusion, a violation—for them and for me. “Stop!”

After the hell I just went through, I have zero trust for Mother. Any I had has been completely eradicated. Begging with the goddess to save me from the invasion of thoughts, I race through the corridors, focusing on getting to Ilona.