“I’m not lying,” I tried again. “The prince plans to kill his own brother in order to rule this kingdom. The people will suffer for it. I don’t want that, and I don’t think you do either.”
“You’re wrong,” Ayla claimed but her hands were shaking, eyes darting.
King Tarquin finally broke away from his argument as he addressed the room. “I ask again. What is it that she speaks of?”
I stepped forward again. To do what, I did not know.
A gasp and then, “Katalin?”
Time stopped, everyone in the room halted their movements. All of their eyes were on the king, but his were on me. He approached slowly, looking at me as if I were a ghost.
Claudian made an exasperated sound that cut through the deafening silence. “The best laid plans… Alas, I will make due with the circumstances I have been dealt,” he began, rather dramatically. “Brother, please make the acquaintance of Seren Corso, or should I say Seren Sgalier. She does look quite like Katalin, doesn’t she? Like mother, like daughter—as they always say.”
“What is the meaning of this?” Tarquin demanded, eyes still locked on me.
My heart began to pound, tongue settling heavy in my mouth.
“Seren is your daughter. Yours and Katalin's. You see, there was something so poetic in taking everything you loved, as you had done to me. Surely, you don’t remember, Tarquin, but the day Seren was born was the same day my wife was in a terrible accident. I begged you to allow the doctors to save her. She was pregnant, too, you know.” Claudian looked pointedly at Ayla. “But you said there werenone to spare. You claimed you needed every doctor at your wife’s bedside to ensure your heir was born safely into the world.”
Claudian stalked toward his brother then, anger clear in his burning eyes. “Ágnes lay bleeding and dying, with my child still within her, and you did not care. You were overcome with the joy of continuing your line. Pity you weren’t more attentive to the child itself. Perhaps then you would have noticed when I switched the two. Ágnes did not survive the night, but Ayla did, and I have done everything in my power to ensure that my daughter rules these lands.”
“I—” A whimper rose in my throat.
“Impossible,” the king roared, hand fisting in the prince’s coat.
“Oh, it was very possible. Easy, in fact. I ordered Seren to be disposed of when I slipped Ayla in her bassinet. The babe was never to be seen again. Unfortunately, the guard involved had a change of heart. Apparently, he didn’t have the stomach for infanticide.” Claudian rolled his eyes as if he could not imagine such squeamishness. “It all worked out for the best, though. Seren will gracefully hand over her mágik to Ayla, or I’ll rip it from her by force—it really matters not.Mydaughter will be the most powerful queen this world has ever seen.”
Claudian laughed, tickled with himself and his plan and his ever growing dramatics. He turned to his brother with a wicked grin, ready to bury the final knife in his gut.
“Harkin…” I whispered.
He squeezed my arm in silent support, but it could not quell the roiling in my gut.
I am the Crown Princess of Acsilla.
“I’ve been playing this game for so long, and here we are on the verge of fruition… You know, I thought killing Katalin would be the sweetest revenge. As it turns out, there is no end to the joy I am brought by your continued suffering.” Claudian put a hand to his mouth in faux consideration. He grinned, all sharp teeth. “Like mother, like daughter, indeed. With the blood of Katalin on one hand and the blood of Seren on the other. With you, on your knees before me,Iwill be a ruler like none this world has ever seen.”
Chapter thirty-seven
Seren
The slice of the king’s blade through soft flesh would have been soundless had the prince not parried so effortlessly with his own sword, the clamor of steel echoing in its stead. Its voice was mocking, discordant, the culmination of something that burrowed much deeper into the meat of their relationship than I could fathom.
Truths had been unearthed before us, but many secrets still remained. I wondered if they would be revealed, or if they would stream away like blood from a dying body.
My companions and I did not jump into action straight away. We watched as the brothers—bound by blood and the crown—aimed to spill each other's guts on the marble floor.
Harkin was the first to move, ever the hero—though he swore he was not. He came to the king’s side, a dagger materializing in one hand, the other raised to summon his mágik.
Safiya melted into the shadows, palms upturned as power flowed through them. The smooth floor began to quake and tilt, sending the prince stumbling as he made to lunge for Harkin.
I was the last to move, not toward the fighting but toward Ayla who stood still, shock and fear written across her delicate features. I was desperate to connect with this girl. Mycousin, a girl who I had never met in the waking world, but who I had known through allthose months of dreaming. I only hoped I could convince her to make a different choice than the one Claudian had laid out for her.
“Ayla,” I began. “I do not wish to fight you. I haveneverintended to kill you or harm you in any way. Your father has told you a lie, in saying this.”
“What would he have to gain from such a lie?” Ayla implored, her mask of anger not quite dousing the indecision beneath.
“I don’t know,” I answered. “But I do know that if Claudian was telling the truth about who I am, then we are family. That is something I have not had in a very long time, and it is not something I wish to squander.”
