“She is,” Cerys said. Turning back to the square, she sucked in a breath and pushed me against the wall before dragging Percy to the alley’s other side.
Slinking into the shadows, I watched a pair of Ma’at knights drag two prisoners to the base of the stairs: a young man and woman. They must have been artisans or merchants—their togas were clean, and the woman wore a silver hairpin.
“These two claim to have information you need to hear, my lady,” one of the Ma’at knights said, bowing. Shoving the man forward, he beckoned him to speak.
Shaky and hushed, I couldn’t quite make out the prisoner’s words. He gestured and pointed, lowering his head whenever he accidentally looked up at Eris.
“What’s he saying?” Percy whispered.
“I think he’s describing someone,” Cerys whispered back.
Eris’ voice carried across the square clearly, and memories rushed back to me of her sickly sweet voice and the way she’d batted her eyelashes at everyone who met her gaze.
“You were brave to speak the truth,” she commended. “Even while knowing the consequences.”
The prisoners’ heads snapped up.
“To know these traitors sointimately, you must have shared their ideals, yet you repented in your final moments by revealing them.” Eris flicked her wrist. “A clean death shall balance your deeds and sins.”
The man of the pair shot to his feet as Aeacus descended upon them. He’d barely reached his full height before the commander drew his sword and cleaved the man’s head from his shoulders. With a sickening thud, the head hit the ground, and the man’s body crumpled.
The woman screamed as a second knight grabbed her arm and pulled her to her feet. Aeacus sheathed his blade and held up a hand. “Take her to the barracks. Kill her later.”
Nodding, the other knight bound her hands and led her away.
A hiss of anger escaped Percy’s lips. I glanced at him, remembering our first meeting—and the brothel we’d torn apart.
“Clean this up,” Eris ordered, turning and walking away, her procession following behind.
Cerys breathed out once they departed. “We have no choice. They’ve escalated their hunt.” She turned to me. “So we must, as well.”
I had a feeling I knew what she was going to ask.
Backing away, I pointed accusingly. “Thiswas your plan. You told Father about Aethra to backmeinto a corner.”
A brief hint of guilt flashed in Cerys’ eyes, but she maintained her determined expression. Percy leaned around her, glancing between us. “What do you mean?”
“Insurgencies require aface,” Cerys said. “One to rally the people and strike fear into the nobility. Who better than the prince, returned to take his father’s throne?”
“Mother’s throne,” I corrected, gritting my teeth.
Percy’s eyes drifted down the alley before returning to me. “Oh,” he said. “Crafty. Now Sethhasto help the insurgency to get to the Acheron.”
“He does,” Cerys confirmed.
Pacing away, I rubbed my eyes. Trying to change thiswretched country wouldneverwork. And even if, by some miracle, we managed to unseat my Father and all his ilk, within decades the rot would regrow and consume it.
I didn’t want this. Didn’t want to bother chasing pointless endeavors that would only end in death.
But to see Eris standing where my mother stood, wholly unworthy to evenslinkin Ma’at’s shadow? And Aeacus beside her . . .
Relaxing my jaw, I whirled around. “Fine. I’ll do it.”
Exhaling, Cerys shot me a look of gratitude.
“But for manipulating us, you’ll have to pay.” Storming back to her side, I grabbed her belt.
Gasping, she tried to wriggle out of my grip. “What are you—”
