“Are there any ways around it?” Niklaus asks.
Dellilian takes a few seconds to think. “Kill.”
I lock eyes with Niklaus, sharing the same thought. We seem to follow a similar train of thought as his eyes spring between mine at a steady rhythm.
“If we kill Vrath, could it be done?” I ask.
“Yes. Bad Man.”
“But there could still be catastrophic consequences to the future we came from, Sapphire.”
I scoff. “I doubt it.”
“If bringing him out of his coma ensures that your brother dies in fatal attack from one of your father’s enemies? Or maybe that his existence triggers another deadly war? Are those seriously outcomes you’re willing to risk?”
The disbelief comes simmering off my skin in hot bursts.
“How can you even ask me that?”
His face does not soften. It’s as though he found that infuriating expression he used to wear all the time. The one that is uncaring, unfeeling, unbearably cold toward my feelings.
“How can you ask me to let you do this and risk everyone’s lives?”
I ignore his question and lie down next to Dellilian, inviting her to curl up next to me. My mouth stays shut. My eyes stay closed. And Niklaus doesn’t try to talk about it either. This is something we will never agree on. Is there logic to his concerns? Of course. I don’t want anything bad to happen to anyone we love because I changed the future with my warning.
But I have to believe that ensuring my father never falls into that coma would only make our home a better place. If he can’t see that, then we have nothing to discuss.
With his help, or without it…
I’m going to warn my dad.
53. House of Jester Night
Niklaus
The dome of soldiers islarger in size than I originally pictured.
A colosseum of cheering, laughing, drinking men with few women in uniform, pointing at the stage in front of us and kicking their feet up as they listen to the Ringmaster making demands of the inmates.
Blasts of fire shoot out from the ceilings. Prisoners wait around the stage with mixed emotions wilting their postures or causing them to bounce on their heels in anticipation. The draft in the air wafts the scent of burning coal and filthy soldiers who haven’t showered in days. Deep reds, black, and bright yellow illuminate the stage stained with bodily fluids and burn marks.
“Looks like it’s the Fighter’s Gallows tonight,” Sophia shouts to us over the chanting soldiers and roaring flames. “The Ringmaster chooses your weapon, and you fight until someone is injured.”
“All of the inmates fight?” I ask.
Jack shakes his head. “They pick us at random.”
“Have you ever been chosen, Sophia?” Sapphire asks nervously.
“No. If I were to get chosen, I’d die. I don’t know how to fight. Instead, I volunteer to go to the Black Widow’s room. It’s not offered to every inmate, but they’ll definitely take you. We’ll raise our hands to have a sentinel escort us before they begin.”
“What’s the Black Widow’s Room?” I ask. I remember a chapter about the different Fun House Nights, but there wasn’t too much detail on them.
Sophia shrinks into herself, looking cornered in her own body.
“They give the women a medication and assign them to a room. They lie on a table, naked, and end up—touchingthemselves to relieve the intense arousal in front of a small audience of generals and commanders to view,” Jack explains matter-of-factly.
Sophia’s neck darkens with redness.
