A cold weight settled in her chest. “Did Fendwyr do this?” she whispered, barely able to say the words aloud. “Are we responsible for the massacre of these people? Theirchildren?”
No one answered. The truth as they’d known it was unraveling too fast, shifting from horrifying possibility to undeniable reality.
Lewis’ voice was thick with emotion. “Could the owl and star meananythingelse?”
Commander Thorne exhaled sharply. “Not together. Not in this arrangement. There’s no other explanation.”
Vivienne’s hands clenched into fists as outrage burned in her chest. She paced, her breath ragged. Her memories pitted against what she’d seen.No book, no scroll in the entire Library of Metis ever hinted to or referenced this.
“How does something like this disappear from our history?” Cirrus muttered, unable to move his eyes from the carved sigil.
Vivienne spun on her heel. “Because history is written by the self-proclaimed victors. They erase their atrocities, rewrite failures, and build ink and parchment shrines to their heroics.” Her voice dripped with venom. “That’s how.”
Owen shook his head as though the movement would help him process. “Even in the restricted warfare archives, none of this is mentioned. The last recorded military engagement was the defense of the capital during the Siege of Fendwyr.”
Lewis stiffened at the mention of the siege, the tragedy that had taken his parents. “When we met the king, he claimed Osimiri’s island forces attacked Vantner unprovoked?—”
“This,” Cirrus growled, gesturing to the tree and its tomb, “seems pretty damn provoked to me. The senseless murder of these people, these children is a more than justifiable reason to retaliate.”
Every moment clicked into place in Vivienne’s mind, like the pieces of a horrific puzzle. The Great Conflict had been nearly a century ago, too long for the destruction here. Dr. Mercer said the bones at the ruins were twenty to thirty years old. The Siege of Fendwyr happened twenty-six years ago.
Her stomach twisted. “King Beriuslied. All of our leadership has been lying.”
The words hung between them like a death sentence.
“Fendwyr did this,” she seethed. “They butchered an entire population and broke the peace treaty with Osimiri…” She gulped down air, fighting fury’s squeeze around her lungs. “And for what?”
Resources? Land? Had they wiped out a civilization to claim what was never theirs?
“Regardless of their intentions, nothing justifies this level of cruelty,” Owen said, his voice hollow. “They didn’t have to burn them alive. Theychoseto make these people suffer.”
Lewis exhaled, rubbing his hands over his face. “If the curse is real, I’m starting to think we deserve it.”
“The bastard king does,” Cirrus countered. “The rest of the kingdom had no part in this.”
Vivienne lifted a finger, recalling something from their audience with the king. “Chancellor Montaghue said curses must be equal to and connected to the original offense.”
Owen locked his jaw, the tension visible on his neck. “Our kingdom ended their bloodlines. The curse slowly ends ours.”
Lewis scoffed. “Honestly? That Velorien guy let us off easy.”
“Not that easy.” The words had barely left his lips when Cirrus tensed, cutlass drawn. His eyes locked on the tree line as footsteps converged on the clearing.
31
Five figures emerged from the trees. Brutes, thick with muscle and cruelty, their eyes gleaming with bad intentions. Vivienne didn’t recognize any of them from the ruins.They must have been part of the group that raided our camp.The ones responsible for so much bloodshed.
“Well, looky here, Simon,” a man with a shaggy goatee drawled, chewing on the stem of a pipe. “Looks like they left us a few stragglers.”
Simon, a scarred brute with an oily grin, eyed them like prey. “Sure did, Billy Goat, and they found the tree for us.”
A barrel-chested sailor grinned, his belly hanging over his belt. “What d’ya say we fertilize this patch of weeds with the boys and take the girl as a souvenir?”
Vivienne stiffened. Cirrus clutched the grip of his cutlass and Owen’s hand flew to the hilt of his sword.
“Later, Joe.” A man with a greasy black ponytail stepped forward, eyes flicking toward the tree’s hollow. “Looks like we’ve got treasure.”
“Don’t you dare!” Vivienne lashed, stepping forward before she could stop herself.
