Chapter 50

Istared into the deep brown eyes of Andros, sitting comfortably on the poor excuse for a cot. He'd removed his helmet, revealing deep red hair and a smattering of freckles. His eyes were kind, though, somehow sparkling in the dank light.

"What do you know of him? What does he want from me?"

He picked at the straw poking into his leg. "I know he planned to have the throne long before you killed Bram Ellis. He'd been working on it, and when Bram died, he just sort of swooped in, as if he'd orchestrated it somehow."

"Death gave me the king's name. There was no scheme there."

"Maybe not on your end, Princess, but he speaks with Death often. I wouldn't be surprised if he'd convinced Death to find a way to make you his bride and that's how it all came to be. Before… that performer stole you, that is. No one saw that coming."

Balancing on the flat end of the spear, I continued pressing for information, using kindness as a weapon against the poor fool. "What does he want with Quill?"

Andros lifted his shoulder. "Is that the kid? No idea. We don't have many kids around here, ya know. Not like Perth."

I rolled my eyes. "There aren't many in Perth either. This might shock you, but the Life Maiden is missing from both cities. All of Requiem."

"Right. Right."

I thought back to my father's birth ledger, remembering how most of the babies were documented with addresses closer to the castle. And then Regulas's supposed confession of the Life Maiden's whereabouts, though after countless hours in the library, I'd decided he was lying. But Andros's words sank in, and I felt a knot forming in the pit of my stomach. Something buzzing, just on the edge of realization. It was as if a long-forgotten puzzle was coming together, piece by piece, revealing a picture that I had never expected to see. I had always known I was different, but the realization was both perplexing and frightening.

My eyes wandered to the spear I had been using as a makeshift crutch, and I couldn't help but notice that the dull ache in my side had faded away completely. I recalled the numerous times when Orin's injuries had healed remarkably fast. And I'd directly affected his madness. My presence was a balm to his tormented soul. Not because we were bonded.

Because I was the missing Life Maiden.

I stumbled backward, my mind running in circles as I searched my memories for any signs saying this couldn't be true. I'd stood in Death's court. His power was the only one I felt in my veins. If this was true, how could Death have power over Life? How could madness consume me, yet I was the answer to Orin's darkness? Maybe I was wrong.

It didn't matter. Not as the door from above crashed open and Icharius Fern came stomping down the steps, whistling a jovial tune. Though I didn't think I needed to, since he'd been too sure of himself to take the spear, I still tossed it toward his guard sitting on the cot, with his eyes cast to the floor. There was a time to play games and a time to get serious, and at this moment, he'd expected to find Andros lying on the floor.

But when he came close enough, his cold eyes pinned to the kind man sitting on the cot, the final low note of his song faded away. "You had one godsdamned job."

"I've never been a good worker," I said. "Ask the Maestro; he can confirm."

"We could have ruled this world with Death's blessing. Two weapons on a black throne. But you had to go and fuck that up."

Face turning as red as the lights outside of Lady Visha's brothel, he stormed up the stairs, dragging one of the older women who'd been in the group down the stairs by her hair.

Andros jolted to his feet, gripping the iron bars. "Please, Your Grace. She's done nothing wrong."

"You will not speak," he said, the red fading to purple as fury consumed him. "Which life will you take, Deyanira? Andros's or hers?"

"Mine. Choose mine," the woman said, her eyes locked on the man in my cell.

It took only a glimpse of the two to see the similarities. The pointed nose, the kind eyes, even the red hair. The only distinction apart from the size and sex was her age. His mother, no doubt.

My stomach turned. A perfectly orchestrated plan by a disgusting man. When I said nothing, Icharius slammed the woman's head into the bars, splitting the flesh on her forehead as she cried out in pain.

"Princess," Andros pleaded. "Take your spear and end this."

"Princess?" The king's anger shifted into humor as he glanced between us. "Were you a son of Perth, Andros?"

I looked at Andros once more, never considering he may very well have been one of my father's subjects.

"I am a son of Perth, Your Grace. Until my last breath."

The king clicked his tongue. "Pity you shit yourself in front of your banished princess. Maybe you could have had a chance. Now make your choice, Deyanira. Which of your people will you kill?"

I balled my hands into fists, gritting my teeth. "I will not choose."

The sharp tip of the spear pressed into my spine with enough force that, on instinct alone, I jerked around, gripping the handle, and smashing it into Andros's gut.

"I'm… I'm sorry, Princess. But you must make a choice. You must choose her. Kill me. Please. Save my mother."

"This isn't my choice. It's his. I don't want any of this."

The king smashed the woman into the bars again, letting her crumple to the floor in tears. "Please," she begged. "Don't let him die for me."

Andros fell to his knees, crawling across the floor to reach his mother. But when his arms passed through the bars, the king pulled his ax. I screamed, lunging for the guard, intending to pull him away, but then it happened—a swift, merciless swing of the king's blade, and Andros's arm fell to the ground with a sickening thud. Time seemed to freeze as the prison filled with the echoes of his agonized screams. Shock washed over me like a tidal wave, freezing me in place as I stared at the gruesome scene before me. Andros's blood covering his poor mother.

A burning, seething anger rose within me. This was the ruin of our world. This man who had taken Requiem for his own would never be stopped if I didn't do it myself. I wasn't going to choose Andros or his weeping mother. I knew now, beyond a shadow of a doubt, he would be my next death.

"You win," I said meekly, leaning on the spear as if I were still severely injured. "I will kill Andros at your request. But I insist you let him die in his mother's arms. Those are my terms."

The king smiled. The symphony of wails filling the chamber didn't stop him from reaching for the key on his belt and unlocking the prison door. So used to being the strongest person in the room, he'd forgotten the monster he'd just set free.

I tucked my arm beneath the guard's good one, helping him scoot on his stomach beyond the threshold and to his mother. They were a sad, pitiful sight, but Icharius was nothing more than triumphant smiles as I stepped outside and pressed the spear to the back of the guard's trembling neck.

"No, please," his mother cried, but the only return she got for her unwavering love was a kick to the stomach from the ruthless king.

I struck hard and fast, lifting the spear to crack it across his smug face. He was strong, though. Too strong. He'd taken the blow like a statue, grabbing the end of the weapon and shoving it toward me to throw me off balance. It worked. I stumbled backward. He leaped over Andros, coming at me with all his might. I waited. Closer and closer he came. A moth to the flame. But the flame would always burn the most. In a practiced move, as he lunged for me, I spun to the side, swiping his blade from its scabbard and jamming it into the back of his right leg.

He fell to one knee, ripping his ax free once more and throwing it at me with such force, it didn't spin end over end. It simply flew straight for me. I shifted right, but not fast enough to avoid the blade altogether as it sliced across my shoulder.

"Not very smart, throwing your weapons, King."

"Enou—"

The king's command was cut off by shouting up the stairs. Starting with a few voices, in just minutes, the entire castle began to quake, followed by the familiar, bellowing tone of my furious husband.

He'd come for me.

Icharius's shock was short-lived as I hauled back and lunged, nearly driving the king's own sword into his chest. Instead, he twisted, grabbing the hilt of the blade right on top of my hand, forcing my back to his stomach, twisting and straining until the blade was pressed to my neck. His breath was hot against my ear. I was strong, but he was stronger. And though I didn't have it in me to stop fighting, I knew I'd lost. I knew that blade to the throat would spur my final descension to Death's court. A beautiful twist of fate between me and all my victims. I wondered if I'd gasp.

But instead of death, a jolt of power unlike anything I'd ever felt rippled across the realm. Icharius went stiff at my back before falling heavily to the stone floor. I spun around, intending to help Andros and his mother escape. But Orin's power had already killed them.

Because not only had he come, he'd shattered the world to get to me.