Faline’s eyes snap from me to Neith, and she begins to silently snarl at her.
“What’s that, Faline? I didn’t hear you,” Neith taunts, but then she must get curious about the poison spilling out of the First Crescent’s mouth, because suddenly Faline’s caustic voice rings out through the foyer.
“I should have killed you when I had the chance, you useless waste of power. How fucking dare you move against me. If Dorsin hadn’t botched up the ransom your father was supposed to pay, you’d be a cold corpse already. You were given everything, and still you refused to give usanythingin return. You were too spineless to take back what was stolen. Your ancestors would be ashamed. The only reason I kept you alive was because we needed the king’s coin to reclaim the realms. You should be rotting in the ground!”
Spittle flies from Faline’s mouth as her face contorts with rage. Her viscous glare snaps back to me.
“And so should you!” she shrieks like a deranged banshee.
Faline’s voice cuts out just as suddenly as it started, and I turn to find Neith seething. Her expression matches mine perfectly. Cold rage hardens through me as I turn my attention back to Faline. When Neith explained how the Igeeyin leaders used me as a decoy, that there were fae out there hunting her, I figured that was the reasonIwas taken. I thought Dorsin must have somehow learned about the princess and taken me, the decoy, by mistake. What Faline just spewed disintegrated all of that, her words like pure acid eating away at the lies and exposing the truth.
“Botched the ransom or botched the kidnapping?” Neith demands of Faline, her tone flat and dangerous.
Faline flattens her lips as though she’s refusing to say another word, but Neith must do something to her, because she suddenly looks as though she’s been seized by agony. We watch her as silence spills out of her gaping mouth and tears start to spill down her cheeks.
“There’s plenty more where that came from, so stop wasting my time,” Neith orders her. “This Dorsin, did he botch the kidnapping or the ransom?”
Faline’s eyes are filled with fiery fury, but she starts to speak and Neith turns her voice back on. “He thought he had the true Korven-Nalrora heir because I told him that he did. But I’m not stupid, I would never trust a leech like that with a powerful bargaining chip.”
She winces as though she expects more pain to pour down her throat any moment, but when it doesn’t happen, she grows more virulent.
“I needed to get rid of you, but I couldn’t do that while the failsafe was still alive, and I knew I’d only get one chance at it, or the Igeeyin would figure it out and take my head,” she snarls as her eyes drift to me and then back to Neith’s. “The flesh dealer was supposed to ransom the little cunt to your father, he would never have known the difference. I even told Dorsin where he could find evidence to prove that the king had an heir. But something went wrong. He didn’t get me the money we needed. He didn’t slit her throat in front of your father like he was supposed to. Which meant I had to keepyoualive.”
Pieces flash together so fast that I can’t focus on what they are, only the picture they create as they fit side by side. Dorsin was supposed to kill me, but not before he squeezed every coin he could out of King Korven. Faline was going to kill Neith as soon as I was dealt with, but something got in the way. She may not know what fucked up her plan, but I do.
I look over at the Scorpions, and I can see the same understanding dawning in their eyes.
Theywere what got in the way.
I thought it was all fate just fucking with us, but it was connected. It was all part of the same web, but we couldn’t see the silken threads past the spiders that sat on them. The Order of Scorpions were hired to hunt Dorsin because he’d stolen documents from an Elix. Faline just said that she told him where to getproofthat King Korven had a secret heir. He stole that proof from the Elix, probably took her apprentice too to cover his tracks. The Scorpions slit his throat for it and then returned the proof and the suspected perpetrator back to their rightful owner.
I’d laugh at the chains of fate that bind all of us together, but I feel too fucking hollow. The Scorpions abandoned me to my fate that night, but in a strange way, they also probably saved me. I take in Neith, she looks as though she’s ready to raze the realms to the ground. I don’t know if I want to help her or get out of her way.
“What are you going to do with her?” she asks, the unbridled fury and power in her voice causing the hair on the back of my neck to rise in warning.
I look from her to the First Crescent of the Igeeyin. Faline is once again screaming silently at us, but I don’t care to hear another fucked-up word from her mouth. I know everything I care to know. If there are any secrets left, they can die with her. I let the greed and malevolence soaked in her gaze and dripping from her silently snarled words stoke my rage and call to the monster within.
I look back at Neith. “I’m going to make her suffer for all of it,” I answer, menace and venom all that exists in me and in the vow.
I turn back to Faline, whose mouth is suddenly shut either by her choice or Neith’s. Her glare is scathing and vitriolic. I offer her a cruel smile and step closer to her.
“Tilleo didn’t like his blade slaves to have scars. Did you know that?” I ask Faline, even though I know she can’t answer. “He liked our skin smooth and unmarked, liked that it made us look untried, untested, easier to underestimate. His healers were proficient,” I explain as I reach for her robe, knife in hand, and start cutting it off. “I would be covered in scars if it weren’t for the thura that mended me over and over and over again. Sometimes they’d heal me three or four times in one day, just to have to do it again because I was a particular favorite of the masters.”
The luxurious fabric of Faline’s robe falls to the ground to reveal an equally regal looking dress beneath. I start to slice through it too, the tearing sound oddly satisfying as the rich fabric becomes nothing more than scraps.
“Of course, you can’t see proof of any of that now, but I remember.”
I press closer to her until we’re almost nose to nose.
“I remember every lash, every punch, every kick, every weapon that has ever pierced my skin. I know exactly where the marks should be, where they flayed me, ripped off my nails, sold me to be used, all because they could. You won’t see any of that written across here,” I tell her as I lift my arm and run my hand over its smooth surface. “But it was carved in here.” I press my palm to my chest, just over my heart.
Her imperious gaze narrows, and I run the tip of my dagger across her jaw. She flinches at the sting of it. I laugh at her weakness and bend down slowly and painfully to search her robes for the iron dagger I know has to be there. I find it and Scorpius helps me stand. I smile at the First Crescent, the leader of the Igeeyin, the cunt who didn’t care what happened to me, and then I show her the monster she helped create.
“I’m going to write my story in your fucking skin,” I growl. “Let’s see if you can survive what I endured. Ready?”
Her eyes grow wide with fear. She screams as I press the iron blade to her back, but the sound is lost to the powerful control of Neith’s thura.
“Perfect,” I viciously praise. “I screamed until no sound came out too. Now, let’s start with how I woke up in a cage and learned that iron burns.”
