A metallic click sounds in my ears.
I freeze beneath Torben, watch as he pulls away from me. My eyes fall on the open brass cuff he holds in one hand. I don’t need to look to know the other end is locked around my wrist.
My heart quickens and breaks at once. A question squeezes between my trembling lips. “What are you doing?”
His eyes turn down at the corners, glazed with unshed tears. He takes the Chariot from his waistcoat pocket. “Fulfilling my bargain.”
37
TORBEN
My heart feels as if it’s been pierced by a thousand iron arrows. I don’t know if Astrid will forgive me. If she’ll understand why I’m doing what must be done. In the end, I suppose it doesn’t matter. This is the only way.
We’re out of time. Out of options.
The light of the Chariot goes out, and when it does, I’m grateful for the momentary searing blindness the device provides, for it seems to have burned away all remnants of my tears. It’s done nothing to lighten the heaviness weighing on my heart, but I don’t think anything will.
The queen’s throne room forms around me in the wake of the Chariot’s glow. It takes me a few moments to orient myself, and I find the room crowded—unlike the last time I was here. The sound of gasps fills my ears. Dozens of stunned figures gawk at me, some surprised, others affronted. It seems I’ve shown up during petitions with the queen. Good. At least now there are witnesses that I’ve been here.
Queen Tris sits upon her throne, her large pink wings splayed out wide, her eyes simmering with rage as they lock on mine. “What is the meaning of this?”
“I’m here to fulfill our bargain.” The crowd parts to allow the queen full view of me. I lift the Chariot. “Both of them.”
The queen pales, then barks, “Out! Everyone out.”
Her guards rush into action, shuffling the muttering spectators out the doors. The silence left afterward is almost deafening. Threatening.
I lift my chin, determined to keep my composure. To allow as little victory to the queen as I can. “What? Didn’t want an audience for such delicate subjects as murder and manipulation?”
She bares her teeth at me. “You said you came to fulfill both bargains. So where is she?”
It takes all my restraint not to leap at her, not to tear out her throat. Part of me wants to give in to the violent urge, even knowing the punishment I’d receive. But no. The result of such actions is definite. With what I’m about to do…there’s still a chance. A slim chance. A meager, hopeless, desperate chance.
The queen’s glare deepens. “Where is my stepdaughter’s heart?”
I place my palm over my chest, over the thundering drum that rages inside. “Right here.”
Her lips curl into a snarl as she studies my hand. “What nonsense is this?”
I swallow hard and deliver my words without quaver. “Astrid gave me her heart, and I gave her mine. You never stated I had to cut out her heart and leave her dead. You only said I mustbring youher heart. So here it is. If you want it, you can rip it from my chest yourself.”
She rises from her throne and folds her wings along her back. “You fool. You pitiful fool. You fell for her lies. Her charm. And now you want to sacrifice yourself for her?”
“Yes,” I say, and I’ve never said something so true in all my life. “If you ever felt an ounce of true love for your husband, then you should understand. Love makes one go to great and terrible lengths for the object of their affection. It makes us hurt. Defend. Even kill. And yes—sacrifice. Accept death.”
Her chest heaves as she watches me, eyes flashing with rage. Then she seems to gather her composure, expression turning cold, lips curling into a cruel smile. She strides down the dais and stands before me. “No wonder you lost everything to betting. This is your most idiotic gamble yet. In no way does this fulfill our bargain.”
“Technically it does.”
She scoffs. “If it did, you’d feel its absence. It would have broken at once.”
She’s right, and I hate to admit that. If my demonstration truly were enough to fulfill the terms of our bargain, I would have felt the relief that comes from the pact’s severing. I would have felt an invisible tear in the magic that binds us.
“That must mean even you doubt your own sincerity,” she says.
Once again, I must admit she’s right. Fae magic is deeply entwined with personal intent. It’s how fae can utilize deception, even with our inability to lie. So long as we can convince ourselves something is true, or that our words match up with some internal intent, we can state it aloud. That must be how Queen Tris deceived me before. She must have orchestrated everything in advance so that she could appear innocent. She controlled her scent to make me suspect she was being honest. She carefully chose words that aligned with her own version of the truth.
My intent isn’t enough to fulfill our bargain. Even though I know Astrid gave me her heart—metaphorically—I know that’s not what the queen truly wants. I can’t fully convince myself it is, for deceiving myself has never been a strength. Only detecting the lies of others. Even that I’ve failed at, and this current failure is worse than all the rest. I could blame my feelings for Astrid for clouding my senses, but I know such thoughts are folly. Tris deceived me from the start, before I even met Astrid. Besides, I can no longer fault love for anything. Loving Astrid could never be a mistake.
