Marie would have her answers—and she would have them now.Jon!she called, voice echoing in the hollows of the tomb.
He came at once, in a softwhooshthat threw her hair behind her, ruffled the folds of her muslin gown. Marie watched black shadows dart along the wall, a flock of birds descending, heard the brush of their wings in her ear. Jon stepped easily from the darkness.
Hello, love,Jon had said. The Conjurer tipped his hat to Sanite.Quarter Queen.
Sanite tutted.Jon. Tell her the truth. Tell her what you make of the Song of Three, boy.
His eyes narrowed, his resolve firm. He would not be bent, and he would not break. And why should he? He had survived the worst this world had to offer.The Song of Three was clear. The child would die before war would begin.
No,Marie said with a gasp.I will never allow that. Not for them. Not even for you.
The Song of Three was wrong. Or Jon was wrong. Maybe both. It mattered not. Marie would not succumb to foolish prophecies. She would fight them all if it came to it. Sanite stood firm at her side, a silent sentinel appraising the shift in power. Her magic rose, moving invisibly along the tomb’s walls, those all-seeing eyes washing over them in a cool breath. Had she seen this moment before? Had she known it would all end like this?
The loa told me you would move against me in the end. I had hoped fate could be changed.His eyes cut from Marie to Sanite.I suppose it cannot.
Me move against you? You move against us! Your family!
His eyes hardened, bitter gold.You know nothing of my family! Nothing!
And there it was. The truth. Or at least all she needed fromit.
Marie recoiled, breathless. She took a step back. She had foolishly thought that they might build something new together. Not to replace what he had lost. But to make anew, to endure the way all their kin were taught to in this world—how to heal when the wounds still bled. But she was mistaken. He didn’t want a family with her. He didn’t even want her.
Jon took a hesitant step toward her, realizing himself.Marie…I…
Marie’s fury split the air. With a flick of her finger, Jon was flung back into the wall, right into his mural. It cracked down the middle, over their daughter’s smirking face. The picture of their family ruined. The way he had always intended.
Never touch me again,she said coldly, voice trembling, as she shut away the memories of their first night together, and the many, many long nights after.Never.
Jon looked up at her, a cold wetness in his eyes. He didn’t fight her. Not now, not when he so easily could have. No. He would wait.
Know this, Conjurer,Marie whispered.If you should come for this child, I will use every bit of magic in the world to rend you in fucking half, even if it killsme.
Jon righted himself, adjusted his frock coat.After everything I have taught you.He shook his head.You still haven’t learned a thing. You can’t stop what the gods have started, Marie. None of us can.
Marie gritted her teeth, the flame in her hand flaring brighter. She would. Jon’s eyes held hers one last time, and in a flurry of wings he was gone.
He is not wrong,said Sanite. Slowly, Marie turned to face her.Your fates are intertwined, Marie. I had hoped the gods would have been mistaken.
What are you saying?
Her voice had grown weary now, and she coughed, the sound echoing throughout the dark of the tomb.You have always known yourself to have a destiny much greater than others’. It is why the others scorn you so. And one day, they will praise you from the same lips that curse you, this I promise. But Jon? He comes from the High Blood in the old land. I tried to rid myself of him many times. And each time, he returns stronger.Sanite’s weary eyes fell to the girl in the middle of the mural.Together, you would make a child capable of untold magic. The war she will bring is the will of the loa.
Marie had stilled; her stomach twisted.
I have seen, my dear girl, and I have known,murmured Sanite.You will be a fearsome queen, Marie. And you will keep peace for a time. But your child? She will bring forth the will of the ancestors. And there will be costs.She took Marie’s hand in hers.Your daughter will herald the Second Inquisition.Her eyes fell to Marie’s rounded belly.Which is why you must rid yourself of the child now.
Marie put a hand to her belly, felt the firmness of her skin, the telltale tremor of magic that was not her own.What are you saying?She felt herself growing hysterical.
Sanite nodded, those hazy eyes insisting she see the truth.I tried to spare you from him. I encouraged you to see him with your own eyes, to see him for what he is: dangerous. He endangers us all. Recklessly risks what little freedom we have left. And I tell you now, Jon will use that child as a sacrifice for his magic. You must stop him now, stop any of this from coming to pass by ridding yourself of the child—
Enough!Rage flashed red-hot through her.Danger or not, I will never hand over any child of mine. Not to you. Not to Jon. Not to anyone, do you hearme?
Not even to the gods, if they demanded so. Marie’s own mother had left her, abandoned her to a grandmother ill-equipped to raise a young girl brimming with magic. She would not see her child suffer the same. She’d been angry, so blinded with rage at her mother for leaving her. How could she turn on her child the same way? She would not.
Sanite rasped, her chest rising and falling in shallow breaths. But she was not angry, as Marie expected her to be. Only woefully silent. Tears filled those filmy, all-seeing eyes.
You want me to be as you are,Marie spat.Loveless and alone.
