Janus answers with a weary sigh. “Let’s not pretend.”
“You’ve been running on empty, Leigh,” Wilder adds.
I gape at him. Every part of me is indeed exhausted, but with good reason. I’m at the helm of a nation now, fully embroiled in turmoil, each day presenting its own set of fires to put out. And it’s hardly helped by the layers of secrecy maintained by those I’m supposed to trust the most.
“Why am I here?” I snap, glaring among them all. “What is this, an intervention?”
Janus sweeps my hair back from my face, which I bet she meant as a soothing gesture, but it only fuels my anger. I lash against my restraints.
“Can’t you see?” she croons. “You’re here to rest.”
“Rest is the last thing I need. Are you plotting against me?”
Janus just laughs, a sound everyone else in the room echoes. Their laughter swells, filling the space in a way that scratches my mind, propelling me into madness.
“Guard!” I cry out. Isolde, or someone else, might hear me.
“Leigh, no one’s coming for you,” Janus says, her tone bordering on sympathetic. However, it sounds more like a sneer. “Everyone’s fed up with you. Every disaster that’s befallen thiscountry, it traces back to you. A Lunar Witch was never meant to rule, so we’ve brought you here—to one of those institutions you’ve been so intent on dismantling—to demonstrate just how futile your endeavors are.”
Her words hit me like a splash of cold water. Am I in an asylum? I scan the room, which resembles a dungeon from ancient times more than any medical facility.
Tears sting my eyes, and my voice cracks as I ask. “W-why are you doing this to me?”
“Because,” Bennett says, “Don was correct. A Lunar Witch will only doom us all. It’s safer for everyone if you stay here, confined with others of your kind, while we rectify your havoc. Rest assured; I’ll keep the nation secure.”
“What havoc?” Janus’s lips tighten at my question. “All I’ve done is attempt to mend this country. I’ve?—”
In an oddly calm voice, Wilder advises, “It’s best for everyone if you just go along with it.”
I struggle to look at him, and his presence hurts worst of all. He said he loved me, but was that a lie? Was everything?
I need to get out of here. “Guard!”
I writhe against my bindings. This must be a nightmare. Yet, the vividness of my senses argues otherwise—the chill of the leather chair beneath me, the trace of salt in the air, the warmth of Janus’s breath as she soothingly brushes my hair away from my face. Tears carve paths down my cheeks, one for every person in this room. Each of them watches, waits, complicit in whatever comes next.
“Stop,” I plead between the tastes of salt and despair. “P-please.”
Janus exhales. “Ever since your Emergence, things have spiraled from bad to worse. First, your father and brother die. Then, your uncle turns out to be the Magician. But was Don that out of line? Revealing those letters hurt us all.”
“And what is your plan when I am gone?”
“We plan to consolidate the presidency with your royal title, assuming complete governance over Corona, and agree to an alliance with Lua.” Her response is more horrifying than the leucotome in Doctor Dunn’s grip. “Unifying leadership under one ruler is the only viable solution to combat the looming threat of war between the factions.”
I laugh, which makes Janus step back. So, Janus consorting with anti-monarchists like Beatrix and Stellan has been to orchestrate my downfall.
“You don’t want to help people. You want power all to yourself!”
“Enough,” Janus barks. Bennett flinches. “Doctor, you may begin the procedure. It’s time to relieve Leigh of all her burdens.”
I scream, writhe, and scream again, yet it does nothing to deter Chiara’s advance. I find myself unable to meet her severe green gaze, not just because of the resolve in them but because their color, so reminiscent of her son’s, brings a different pain.
Wilder stands off to the side, unmoving. With no ally in sight and no rescue on the way, my resistance dwindles to resignation. My glare at Janus hardens. Defiance is my last stand.
I gasp out, “You’ll lead us to ruin,” as Chiara positions the leucotome against my retina.
With a start, I sit up. I’m in my bedroom.
Shaking my wrists out, I find them astonishingly free of any bindings.
