“I hatedyou.So ungrateful. So spoiled. Last autumn, I made the mistake of believing that we could be sisters at last. You agreed to pledge me your support—”
“Youblackmailed me.”
“—and what did you do? You betrayed me. Do you think your dark hair makes you special? That your conjuring entitles you in some way?”
“Sister, you have it all wrong.”
“No.” Farah’s lip curled. “This is my vengeance, sister. You are a disgrace. Miria was, too. Whyour mother ever wanted to crown her but not me, I cannot fathom. The three of you.” A laugh. “So weak.I was glad of Miria’s death. My only regret was that I was not the one to wield the weapon that killed her. I did not make that mistake with our mother. I will not make it with you.”
A guard passed Farah a dagger. Ellina watched the blade exchange hands with a sense of unreality. She had been reckless, her plan had been reckless. As Farah moved forward, Ellina tried to think, to scramble for some new idea, even though it was hopeless, and she was out of time.
Her eyes dropped back to the candle on the desk between them, which was nothing now but a thin sliver. Farah’s blade caught its feeble light, orange melting over the green.
Ellina thought about how Venick could hear his father’s voice in his head. The tragedy of General Atlas’ murder, and how—though Venick would never admit it aloud, and might not even know it himself—the truth was as obvious to Ellina as the sun in a clear summer sky: Venick regretted killing his father. He would take it back if he could. It was a mistake he would carry with him for the rest of his life.
Just as Ellina carried hers. She remembered her own voice as it had been before, without hitch or pause, singing her heart into words in the company of no one because there were elves like Farah who saw such things as too passionate, too odd, too human. She wished she could hear Miria’s voice like Venick heard his father’s. She wished they could sing together, just once. Just one time.
But Ellina’s mind was a deep ocean. Nothing in it but shushing waves. Her mother’s demands. Her country’s expectations. How Miria had touched Ellina’s cheek on her way to freedom and said,Be happy.
Ellina had not known how to be happy. She thought happiness meant following the rules, blending seamlessly into her role as a princess and a legionnaire. She was like Venick in this way. She had hidden herself so deeply for so long that she was not even aware she was hiding.
Yet she had been found anyway, and known, and loved.
As Farah rounded the desk to touch the tip of her blade to Ellina’s neck, Ellina did not flinch away. She looked into the gleaming eyes of her sister and said, “You are wrong about me.”
Farah smirked. “Are those your final—?”
Farah convulsed. Ellina took several quick steps out of range as Farah dropped to her knees, blood spouting from her nose, the dagger clattering to the floor. Behind her, Farah’s guards were doing the same, seizing, stumbling.
Ellina took another step backward, finding the edge of the desk and gripping hard. Her own legs threatened to give, the muscles too loose. When she sniffled, she tasted blood in the back of her throat.
“What…” Farah wiped her nose, looked down at the red smear. “What is happening?”
“Lace powder. It is an airborne poison. I put it in the walls. The manor’s ventilation system has been filling this room with it. Once the poison is inhaled, it works quickly.”
“But you—” Farah’s pupils were tiny, her golden irises like two floating suns. “You are inhaling it, too.”
“Lace powder is different than most poisons. It will kill an elf, but not a human.”
Farah’s expression said that she did not understand.
“It won’t kill me,” Ellina continued, taking a deep breath, feeling the poison grate her lungs, “because I’m half-human.”
Watching Farah was like watching sunlight dawn over a mountainside. Her face was drawn in shadows but quickly gaining color, the shapes and ridges all coming clear. Behind her, the guards were attempting to flee the room, their limbs scrabbling uselessly over stone tiles.
“I asked if you ever wondered what Rishiana and Ara fought about,” Ellina said, still clinging tightly to the desk. “It was this: Rishiana was in love with a human conjuror named Erol. He was Miria’s true father…and mine, too.”
“That is not possible.” Farah’s words came out garbled. “Elves and humans cannot…”
“Make babies? You are right. However, elves and humanconjurorscan, and when they do, they produce black-haired offspring. Elven conjurors. Thatis where elven magic comes from. It is also the reason why our mother wanted to crown Miria early. Miria was half-human, too. Rishiana wanted to establish Miria as queen before the truth came out—before elves like you, elves like Ara, had a chance to act against her.”
Farah was breathing heavily. Her jaw worked. Her fingernails dug across the floor.
“You were wrong,” Ellina said, “when you said I was weak. My humanity does not make me weak. It’s going to save my life.”
Farah’s eyes began to fade. Her mouth foamed.
This is for our mother,Ellina might have said.
