Oleander’s voice echoed up from the Oubliettes, dim and dark and ringed in shadow:He told me five minutes after we left the chapel, and laughed when I cried.
I closed my eyes, sifting through memories. Gavin shining like the sun on the Concordat. Gavin tearing my favorite dress without asking—when he’d laughed, I’d laughed with him. Gavin stealing a kiss—he’d been so surprised when I hadn’t returned it. Gavin inspiring a froth of impossible, improbable adoration from me, fromeveryone.
I swallowed sudden nausea.
“I know what your legacy is, Gavin.”
Doubt warred against creeping suspicion in his eyes. “I told you—I don’t have a legacy.”
“I create illusions, but a person has only to close their eyes to escape them.” My voice scraped my throat. “Youthough—you climb inside a person’s mind and alter the way they perceive you, their world, their own emotions. You’ve made me see things that weren’t there, laugh at things I didn’t find funny, believe things that weren’t true. But worst of all—you made me doubt my own heart, my own mind.”
He stood very still.
“How many times have people done things for you they didn’t want to do?” I hissed. “How many of those loyal to you have been forced into it? How many women have found themselves in your bed without explicit consent?”
His hands curled into fists. “That’s an atrocious accusation.”
“Tell me I’m wrong.”
He shook dark hair out of his eyes. “I wasn’t always perfect, Mirage. I know that. Yes—I resented being a poor relation to the powerful empress. Yes—I envied how easy the twins had it, with their beauty and their strength and their money. Maybe, when I eloped with Oleander, I wanted a little of that—a little of that grace. But then I found the light of the Scion, and all that noise was cut away. I’m free of all those shadows now. I know what truly matters. And I won’t let you saddle me with blame I haven’t earned and do not deserve.”
“You deny your legacy?”
“Deny I’m a monster who warps perceptions for his own advantage?” He gave a short laugh. “I do indeed.”
He turned curtly to the door. “You’ll regret this, cousin. You’ll regret challenging me to the Ordeals.”
“Why? Because we might die, or lose our minds?”
“Because I’ll win.” Weariness stretched his voice and dimmed his light. “You should know—I didn’t come here to steal your throne. But now—now I’ll have to.”
He turned on his heel and left me alone. Sudden trepidation gripped me, cold as death foretold. All the adrenaline and fury and excitement I’d felt during the last few hours dropped away, leaving me gasping.
What have you done?The words spun through me, untethered. And their answer was a hopeless prayer from another time, a broken promise from my forefathers.
You were always going to challenge him. Because this is how youearnwhat you were born to.
I clenched my fist around my Relic and fought the urge to throw it to the ground.I am the master of my fate.All of this was still up to me. I had choices—I hadoptions.None of this was written. My actions still mattered.
They had to matter.
If I heard a distant laugh—which Ididn’t—it rang bell-bright and blood-dark, like the voice of the sister I’d never had.
Ithreaded through a bustling palais full of painted courtiers and black-clad wolves and servants running around with the news thatthe Duskland Dauphine challenged the Sun Heir for the Amber Throne!I found Oleander in her bedroom, trying on a gown that made her look like the mythic Moon. A luminous bodice fell away to sheer panels of midnight blue, a dark diaphanous skirt twinkling with diamond shards.
“Do you like it?” She gave it a twirl. “I designed it myself.”
“It’s stunning,” I said honestly. “Do you mind if I ask you a question?”
“Is it,Did Vida agree to heal the nasty bruise that makes my boyfriend look like a common brawler?” Oleander guessed. “Because the answer to that isno.”
“I didn’t—” Her words thudded through my roil of thoughts and slapped heat onto my cheeks. “He’s not my—not that I don’t want—but—”
“Scion save me from the garbled ramblings of dusk-addled dauphines,” grumbled Oleander, unlacing her gown. “Just when I thought we were making progress.”
I shoved thoughts of Sunder far, far away. “I wanted to ask—do you know what Gavin’s legacy is?”
Oleander’s fingers froze on her stays. Her eyes, bright as beryls, met mine. “Supposedly, he doesn’t have one.”
