I took the sacrificial dagger from the priestess; it felt heavy in my hand.
The wind howled around me, pulling at my cloak as my pulse roared, but I didn’t hesitate. Gripping the hilt tightly, I glanced towards the throne.
My father sat rigidly upon the edge, watching me with an anger hotter than the crackling fire. His gaze burned into mine, filled with fury, confusion and something else... Fear.
I pulled my hood back, silver hair catching the firelight.
Shock rippled through the crowd, but I kept my eyes locked on his. For the first time in my life, I didn’t flinch.
I smiled.
“Lyra Meridian,” I yelled over the crowd’suproar.
I raised my hand over the bowl, dragging the blade across my palm. I didn’t flinch; I was used to blades. But the electric feeling that radiated into my soul made me shift uncomfortably. Blood welled dark and thick in my hand, ready to set me free.
“Lyra!” my father roared with anger.
My brother stood from his throne, jumping off the dais into the crowd. “Please!” He yelled, “Lyra don’t do this!”
My heart clenched at the rawness in his voice. Aldric never lost control. Yet there he was, shoving through the crowd, his hair falling loose from its careful styling. His polished facade splintered further with each frantic step. The perfect prince was gone; only my brother remained, undone by fear.
But I held my ground. I tipped my hand as he pushed his way through the crowd that seemed to part for him. A figure broke the formation of the line and crashed into Aldric.
Dreya grappled with my brother, the prince, in the damp, ash-covered snow.
Her dark eyes burned with fury as her slender frame held his struggling form to the ground.
My blood splashed into the bowl, almost black against the cursed water’s red gleam. The moment it touched, a violent shock tore through my veins.
As though ice and fire raged a war inside me, the ancient power sank its claws into my very soul.
“Come now, Princess, I will convince the Gods you made a mistake,” the priest coaxed in a soothing voice. But venom lurked beneath it, I could see it for the poison it was.
I stared at the hand he offered, the same hand that carved symbols into my skin with a blade, the same hand that touched me against my will.
I fluttered my eyelashes at him before widening them to make myself looked frightened. “You would do that for me, my priest?”
“I would,” he said gently. “The Gods speak through me, and they will show you mercy. They know you are only a broken girl. Come now.”
My teeth clenched, and I gripped the ceremonial dagger with purpose, letting him come closer.
They called me broken. Perhaps they were right—but broken glass cuts the deepest.
I drove the knife into his chest. His flesh split with a sickening squelch as the dagger sunk into his flesh. He sucked in a fractured breath as I forced the blade deeper, my knuckles hitting skin. His eyes widened in disbelief, lips parting in a soundless scream.
I grinned, the dark thing inside of me drinking in the bloodshed, begging me to make him suffer. I twisted the knife, and he finally found his voice.
The sound of my torturer screaming was beautiful, like a lullaby crafted just for me.
For a heartbeat, everything else disappeared. The wind, the crowd, even the roaring sea as I watched him fall to his knees.
“Jump!” Dreya shouted, cutting through my enchantment.
Aldric sobbed my name, choked and broken. It cut straight through my heart. Perhaps he did love me, but I knew he would never love me enough to save me from Father.
I did not look back.
Sprinting towards the cliff’s edge with my heart lodged in my throat, I shed the cloak like a second skin, spread my arms, and dove into the waiting dark. My vision tilted.
