From the shadows Lily stepped, her purple gown glimmering with starlight. Her face was ashen and drawn into a tense grimace as though every step brought her pain.
"Yes, Auntie?"
"Find the Marudas sisters. Tell them Icarus needs them. Tell them it is dire."
"No!" Icarus shouted, lunging forward ready to do what, he didn't know. Sidonia had been his closest friend since the day he'd condemned his father to death, a burden he thought they shared. He couldn't bear to hurt her, and his hesitation cost him in the form of his uttered spell sailing harmlessly off course above her head.
Cyrus seized the moment to hiss darkly under his breath, and Icarus felt his muscles grow rigid and then spasm, contorting his body until he was forced to kneel on the ground before them.
Lilith's face flashed with something like pity and she hesitated, but a hard look from Sidonia had her moving again.
"Lily, wait!" Icarus gasped under the crushing weight of Cyrus’s spell, his lungs refusing to draw breath. "Think of Roxanne. Think of your friends and what this will do to them. It's not too late—" Cyrus’s fists tightened and a crushing pain ricocheted through Icarus’s chest, a thousand blows at once.
Still, he saw Lilith's shoulders grow rigid and her chin dip hesitantly towards the ground.
"Remember who we are, child. Remember what the grimoire and stone can do for us. For all of South Silden. Your parent’s names will be cleared. You can go back home with your head held high. A hero."
Icarus recognized the soothing tone that had counseled him more times than he could count. To hear it working against him . . . it was a pain he hadn't known his body capable of.
“You’ve come too far to stop now. Remember the strength it took to gain their trust. To trick Seren, slip her the book. Would you have this all be for nothing? Go, child,now.”
Lilith lifted her head and continued without a glance back.
"Poor Icarus. You did not think it could possibly get worse, did you? I have always loved proving you wrong. Watching that clever little light in your eyes dim to nothing." His uncle limped closer, blood dripping from his fresh wounds. With every step, the power of his spell came down harder until Icarus’s vision dimmed with the strain of not breathing. "I have waited for this day for what seems like an eternity, wiping your light from this world. No longer shall the line of Darkmore suffer you to live."
Through a bitter gaze, Icarus watched his uncle lift his arm, ready to spit the killing curse. A set of dark eyes flashed through his head; he hadn't even said goodbye.
A horrible crack sounded, but it wasn't Icarus who fell. Sidonia's magenta magic sparked out, a bright streak against the dimly lit office, to hit Cyrus in the back. The man sailed forward, crumbling into a heap of scattered paper and potting soil. Icarus felt his uncle's hex go slack and drew in a great gasp of breath, one of the best things he'd ever felt—second only to Seren's lips on his.
With the deep, greedy gasps came the rushing sensation of hope. It wrapped around him like a warm blanket as Sidonia knelt beside him, dark braids falling over her round shoulder. "I'm sorry, Icarus. It wasn't meant to be this way."
He wanted to hear her say it. To say that it had all been a ploy. That her alliance with Cyrus was built on a false, shaky foundation. But her face when he'd told her… He knew in his heart by that alone Sidonia had known of his father's innocence and still allowed a sixteen-year-old boy to condemn him. To believe he had caused the death of his own father. It was something no amount of acting could portray.
"All this time, you’ve been working with him?" Icarus glared at his uncle's unmoving body, the only sign of life being the fall and rise of his broad chest. His vision clearing, he stared up at the face of the woman he would have trusted with his life. In her eyes a tempest brewed, a darkness he’d never recognized in her before.
“From the beginning. Your uncle was an envoy that visited South Silden. This was long before the Trinity war. Long before I had ever considered coming to Lynoria. He was there to talk peace and politics as tensions have always brewed between our countries. By day he was a polite Lyrian, by night he was something else. Something different. A dreamer. He had an imagination that knew no bounds. Near the fire in the great hall of my parent’s palace, he whispered stories to me. Stories of the Three.” She offered out a hand and he took it, groaning as she heaved him up to his feet. A stabbing sensation lingered from his uncle’s curse cascaded through his chest, but he managed to steady himself.
Sidonia fussed over her dress for a minute, not meeting his gaze. “With the omnis stone, grimoire, and vessel. The power they could offer. No more bowing and scraping. No more turning the other cheek when blood witches were spat on in the streets, harassed in our own homes by Lynoria’s troops sent to maintain ‘peace’. They’ve started taking our children, Icarus. Our babies. Shipping them here under care of the crown to ensure we won't practice blood magic against them.”
The news of such a thing was a cold shock, biting through him. He knew South Silden suffered mistreatment under the Lynorian crown but this . . . this was something else. A horror all on its own.
“ Lilith and her brother Zade only escaped such a fate because of my position here.” The flash of her purple gaze found Cyrus, still drawing labored breaths on the floor. “I was a wide-eyed sixteen-year-old when I met him. When he painted such a lovely story of what could be. I thought myself a hero. And when he showed me the grimoire, I believed his stories. Believed that he had intentions of freeing South Silden and restoring a careful balance. I trusted him blindly for years, and when I glimpsed his true colors—I trusted him, still. After all, he was closer than any witch or wizard had been to the three since the Magnus Wars. When he insisted your father had to be dealt with . . . I went along with it because when your father spoke of power and unity, it was never for South Silden. It was always restoringLynoria, building them towards a golden age like we’d never seen. What good was that to my people? I had to trust that Cyrus would make true his word.” She shivered.
Icarus could only stare ahead, his mind twisting to try to understand.
“I am not a bad person, Icarus,” she said fiercely, catching sight of his expression, but then her shoulders fell ever so slightly. “At least, I did not start as one. My intentions were solely for the benefit of my country and family. Isn’t that what you thought you were doing when you turned your father in?”
An ache erupted in his chest. Not only because she would use such a thing against him, but because she wasright. At the time, he thought it was for the greater good. And the burden that came with it was simply a consequence of such. One to bear alone for all these years.
Together, they walked stiffly toward the door and into the darkened hall where music and soft light still bled in from the dining hall below. Icarus turned to her suddenly, as if coming back to himself. “Sidonia, the Marudas sisters are innocent. Vessel or not, they cannot be pawns in your or my uncle's game. Tell me there is a line, and that this is it. That you would not exploit such young and fragile witches who are under your care.”
Sidonia lifted a dark eyebrow. “I’ve had to exploit my own niece for this, Icarus. This mission has broken her.” A haunted quality fell over her face. “You would ask me to spare them, but the Marudas sisters do not seem so fragile to me.”
In his heart, Icarus knew that she was right. Seren was lightning embodied, a goddess who would war with the world to protect what she loved. Arabella was warmth and honey, but fierce and intelligent beyond measure. Together they were a perfect storm. But they were young. They deserved a life beyond what others had planned for them. Over anything, they deserved achoice.
“Let me make myself clearer, Sidonia. Theywillnot be part of your game, no matter the personal stakes.”
Pausing at the top of the grand staircase, the headmistress turned to face him, finally flashing a familiar smile that had marked their friendship for years. “Have you forgotten already, dear man, how I just saved your lif–” Sidonia’s mouth transformed into an O. Her eyes widened as Cyrus’ black and crimson magic blasted from the office to strike her temple, the force of it staggering.
