“What do you want, Mother?”
“You, of course.”
A spasm entirely wrought of irrational emotions rips across my chest. How can she still do this to me? Am I really that weak? That needy?“You can’t sway me, buy me, punish me, or beat me into submission. You’ve already tried.”
“I can teach you to be a queen, powerful and feared. I’ll make you what you’re meant to be.”
What I’m meant to be doesn’t appear to be up for debate anymore, and it’s not what Mother thinks.“I’m already powerful, and I don’t crave anyone’s fear.”
“Come home, Talia.”Her command drags heavily through my mind, pulling at places I need to preserve. I push back, protecting them.
“Do you honestly think your compulsion will work on me?”Despite the scathing tone I sink into my question, I know it could—if she were closer. But even then, I would put up a colossal fight.
She pulls harder, and pain blossoms behind my eyes. I resist, and the sharpness of her invasion lessens until she redoubles her efforts. Slicing heat arcs under my skull, but I don’t make a sound. She’d hear it.
“You are Beta Fisa. You are the Kingmaker. You’ll be a queen. I’ll set you up in Tarva, and we’ll be allies. Come home where you can play your part. Don’t throw your life away on a Sintan dog, a usurper king only using you for your magic.”
And there’s the Mother I know and hate.“I am the Kingmaker, but the king made himself. And I’m not justaqueen, Mother. I’mtheQueen.”
A moment passes, a long, heavily charged beat of silence. The pain in my head lessens, probably as a result of her shock. I just declared myself her rival and hinted at our intentions.
Finally, she says,“You’re nothing as long as you dance to the tune of that mangy hound.”
I snort softly.That mangy houndis the only reason I’m doinganything.“What do you imagine would happen if I came home?”I ask bluntly.“That I’d dance toyourtune? That I’d still let you abuse me and others, and that you’d eventually die peacefully in your own bed before I ever wore your crown? I knew you were insane. I didn’t think you were stupid.”
Her voice ices over.“You can’t rival me. Trying would be your undoing. With you in Tarva, we’ll both benefit.”
“We’ll both benefit from your getting out of my head before I squash your brain.”
Her laugh raises goose bumps on my arms.“That would take more power than you’ll ever have.”
I start pushing in earnest.“I’ve seen the Plain of Asphodel. It’s beyond dismal. I have a feeling you’re going to have a nice, long vacation there.”
Mother forces a cyclone of power through our connection, and my vision momentarily goes dark. I feel a trickle of blood slide from my nose as my body starts to twitch under conflicting information. A very convincing part of my brain is telling me to leave the arena, get on my horse, and race to Castle Fisa.
I curl my hand around Griffin’s arm. There’s no way in Hades I’m leaving him, and she can’t make me.
“I named my sword, Mother. I thought of you, and I named it.”I throw a veritable tidal wave of power back.
This time, her laugh sounds strained.“Is this where I’m supposed to ask what you named your paltry little sword, Talia?”
Yes. “I named it Thanatos.”Death.
I shove with all my might. There’s a hiss of pain on the other side of our connection as I hurl my mother from my mind.
CHAPTER 32
IGLIMPSEIANTHE OUT OF THE CORNER OF MY EYE. Nervous as a sailor in siren-infested waters doesn’t even begin to describe my little sister. Her eyes are wide and round, her hands clenched tightly in her lap. She’s as stiff and straight as a cypress, and I have to wonder: Is she scaredforme, orofme?
I want to race up the stone steps and drag her from the Tarvan royal box. Why is she even with them? Gods forbid she’s betrothed to Alpha Tarva. As the only Fisan princess left, or so most people think, it’s entirely possible. Galen is more than twice her age. He’s a widower and a sneaky bastard who probably likes to poison people, including—if the rumors are true—his former wife.
But that’s not my only problem. At the moment, it’s not even my worst. There’s a Cyclops on the other side of the sand.A bloody Cyclops!Why did anyone agree to this? No one should listen tome!
No wonder there’s been so much blood in the arena. So many body parts all over the place. The creature is a house-sized colossus that tears people limb from limb. I’d be petrified even at full strength and with combat magic. All I have today are my knives, collected by the Gameskeepers after our last round, my sword, and about a hundred and ten pounds to put behind swinging it.
That and compulsion. Maybe. The episode with Mother this morning drained me, but after inhaling food like air, I might be strong enough again to manage creature driving. Cyclops driving, I very much doubt. And I don’t want to take that road anyway. It’s a slippery moral slope.
Griffin forms a plan while I’m still standing there with my mouth wide open. “Most people use knives like swords, to slice and jab in close combat. They won’t expect us to attack from a distance. Throw the second the gong sounds. Keep them back and keep them down, even if it means the kill. Then we take on the Cyclops.”
