What’s happening?
King Rodrick continues, “My forefather’s vision was to unite the Midlands under one banner. The Vanquisher sought a worldof true equality, where none would suffer from the corruptive influence of magic. Today, I can say with assurance that no one citizen has done more to further that cause than Lyria. History will remember this as the day the war was won. And it’s all thanks to ourbeloveddaughter of Verdinae and my son’s future bride.”
My chest craters.
“With one sip of her creation—the omnidraught—those born with the affliction of a so-called Talent will no longer have to suffer. Through the dissemination of this draught, we can at last achieve justice and equality throughout the realm.”
I’m praying to Rashielle to make time stop. I’m praying to wake up from this nightmare.
Everything I saw in the archway is true.
There is no plague.
There is no cure.
There is only this—King Rodrick’s long-standing plan to obliterate magic forever. And I’ve played straight into his hands. This was always Finn’s goal: to manipulate and betray me.
All my worst fears are true.
Applause smashes through the ballroom, and I finally tear my eyes away from Rodrick, forcing myself to look at Finn instead. That smile hasn’t wavered. He’s gazing steadily at his father, basking in his approval.
LOOK AT ME, I want to howl at him.DO SOMETHING.
But he does nothing,saysnothing, as his father triumphantly concludes, “The era of magic in the Midlands is over. It’s time for a new age to begin. With this tool in our arsenal, I have no doubt: We will win this war.”
Applause fills the ballroom. When Finn squeezes my hand, I want to lurch away from him, but I am frozen by all my emotions.
King Rodrick leans in to kiss my forehead, and the cheering rises to a fever pitch. I’m falling, catapulting, plunging downward forever.
What a fool they’ve made of me. What a sniveling, wretched mess. Every foul way that Finn described me strikes me in succession, like so many slaps to the face.
Insecure. Hasn’t got a clue. Grotesquely starved for affection.
King Rodrick’s lips feel like acid against my skin. When he draws back, I gaze up into his eyes: this man who is more monster than human, the embodiment of everything I despise. A bully. A bigot. A dictator peddling lies. Then my eyes drift to his crown. The gold gleams beneath the chandeliers, bringing the faint metalwork into relief. The sides are etched with swirling runes. Not with ships, or dragons, or roses—the design isn’t Verdish, or even Dornik.
It’s Evermorean. Ivy and willow branches.
I could kill him.
The impulse sweeps through me, borne by fury. First, it’s hypothetical. Then, very quickly, it becomes real. Maybe I should kill him. Right here, right now.
I remember—Oh Gods. My name day. Queen Soleste. My mother. Nausea curdles in my gut, my knees almost buckling. I’m exactly like her, aren’t I?
NO.I refuse the thought with the same force I use to shove my Talent back into submission. My whole body starts shaking, and I don’t know whether it’s from disgust or fury or fear. Certainly it’s fear that has glued my feet to the floor. As applause continues around me, panic clamps an iron fist on my throat.
But fear has frozen this kingdom since King Verdin, and here I am, playing my part. I am enraged at my participation in this stupid game. The dragons have been dead for hundreds of years. Why are the ashes still smoldering?
When I look over the crowd, I see cowards. Sycophants. People who draw close to the Crown to share in the spoils but don’t question the laws that keep this land bound. I hate that I’m bowing to this. I hate that I’m part of this.
Something in me snaps.
I snatch Elowyn’s crown off Rodrick’s head.
It takes most of the room a few seconds to understand what is happening. I don’t understand it myself. Something possesses me. The monster? Myself? I’m not waiting to find out. With the crown in one hand and my skirts in the other, I run, catapulting off the dais and through the crowd before any of the royal family can react.
Shouts rise behind me. I think I hear Odessa’s shrill screams. I’m halfway to the door when King Rodrick bellows, “Seize her!”
Something grasps my skirts, and I feel the sudden yank and hear the rip of a huge chunk of fabric. I wheel around and lock eyes with Damien. He’s snatched a bit of my dress, and his other hand is already reaching to grab me.
