A truthstone.
Truthstones are incredibly rare—only three were found within the last century. Given the kind of people Bran associates with, I suppose it’s not surprising he’s forced to continually prove his word.
If I’d known about the truthstone, I would have demanded he use it when we were bargaining.
“Your brother is currently being healed. By this time a week from now, he will no longer suffer the ill effects of his poor choices that day so long ago.”
I clench my fists, nails digging into my palms. But the stone doesn’t glow.
“Now, lie,” I say hoarsely.
Bran narrows his eyes. “This place is safe for you.”
The stone turns a deep purple, pulsing with the aether trapped within it.
My knees turn weak. Evren truly is healed. All of it was worth it for this.
“Arvelle.”
Bran melts away as Maeva appears, a grin on her face. Dressed in white, with her fluffy eyelashes darkened, her long blond hair soft and shiny, she looks fresh, innocent, and entirely incapable of threatening to slit someone’s throat.
“I thought you didn’t have anything to wear?” she asks.
I shrug. “I was mistaken.”
She frowns at that, and I can’t blame her. The gown I found lying on my bed isn’t forgettable in the least. The silk is a deep, mesmerizing green so dark it’s almost black, the fabric flowing gracefully from two silver pins at my shoulders before cinching at the waist. Silver cuffs encircle the sleeves, but it’s the neckline that truly sets the gown apart, tiny, polished gemstones scattered across the fabric like stars.
I know who I have to thank for it. And when I do, I’ll try not to choke on the words.
“Everyone’s talking about what you did today,” Maeva murmurs, taking a cup of wine.
I don’t need to ask her what she’s referring to. “I know. It was stupid. Thank you for having my back.”
She waves that away. “It wasn’t stupid. I think it was brave. The emperor wants you dead, though. But the people …”
I frown at her, my skin prickling. “The people?”
“They’re calling you Kelindra’s daughter.” Her voice lowers to a whisper. “It’s why the emperor couldn’t strike out at you after the challenge.”
Fuck. I close my eyes, blocking the world out for a single moment. Kelindra is known as the matron of Unity and Birth. But that’s not all she’s known as. No, she’s also the goddess of forgiveness, mercy, leniency … and redemption.
The thought of someone as bitter and cynical as I am being given such a title couldn’t be more ironic. It also couldn’t be more dangerous.
“Maeva,” Neris calls.
A bright smile explodes across Maeva’s face, her eyes lighting up. “I’ll talk to you later.”
Nodding, I take a cup of wine for myself—checking three times to make sure it reallyiswine—and wander to the edge of the room.
Despite my strange new nickname, my chest feels light, and for the first time since I arrived in this place, I feel the tiniest spark of hope.
My instinct is to stamp out that spark. And yet …
I did it. I survived. Not only did I survive, but I won. I turned one of the worst things that ever happened to me into a chance for a new future. Evren is healed. He’ll have a life now. The odds were against me, and I get a cut of those odds, which means enough money for a new life with my brothers.
We can have the house on the coast. We can have the education. And we can have the safety.
Strangely, some part of me will miss this place. Not the death, of course. But I’ll miss the routine of training, the privilege of not needing to worry about where my next meal is coming from. I’ll miss Maeva, too, and maybe a few of the other gladians.
