And that he won’t come after me.He had to move on, had to realize that I was not worth fighting for. Never had been.
Now I sat behind bars, listening to the water lap against the side of the ship.
Tears streamed down my cheeks. My sobs were drowned by the sound of approaching footsteps.
“You were always such a crybaby.”
The voice was gilded with scorn, yet carried that infuriating, flirty lilt that Sereth wielded like a dagger.
I wiped my eyes and stepped closer to the prison bars. “And you were always terrified someone might see through you.”
Her lantern tilted upward, bathing her in gold light. She was painfully beautiful—snow-white skin, blood-red lips, dark curls cascading like they’d been poured from a bottle of ink. Her beauty had sharpened in five years. It was the kind that could cut.
“The truth,” she said slowly, “is that you made a poisoned apple, gave it to your mother, and she brought it to me.” Her smile was all blade.
“That’s the lie you’ve been polishing for years.” My voice shook, but my eyes didn’t leave hers. “Mother never brought it near you. You came to me. Said you needed it to escape her. And then—” my throat tightened “—you used it on yourself when it suited you.”
Her expression faltered for the briefest heartbeat. A hairline fracture in a ceramic bowl.
“I did what I had to,” she said, voice lower now, stripped of its mocking edge. “Do you know what it’s like to grow up knowing you’re… nothing? No matter how pretty you are, you’re still someone else’s pawn.”
“Is that what this is about?” I cut in. “You were jealous. Always. It didn’t matter what I did. You wanted anything just because it was mine.”
The vulnerability vanished like a snuffed candle. “I played the game better than you ever could. And if I had to shatter you to get free, so be it.” Her gaze glittered. “That’s the difference between us, Malia. You hide when you’re hurt. I make sure everyone else bleeds.”
I almost laughed, though there was no humor in it. “And yet here you are, sneaking into a cell to tell me how clever you are. Sounds more like you need my fear to keep you warm at night.”
Her grin tightened. “Mother was a fool. She sent that huntsman to kill me. That’s betrayal worth burning for. And I made sure she did.”
My stomach knotted. I couldn’t imagine mother’s painful death wearing those hot shoes. “She was still your family.”
“You’re not one to lecture me on loyalty.” She arched her brow. “Speaking of which… I hear you’ve taken a liking to that huntsman.”
My heart stumbled.
“Good,” she purred. “Because he’ll be dead before the night ends.”
My hands gripped the bars. “What did you do?”
“I sent my assassin. He won’t stop until Alaric is gone. And he’ll die trying if he must.”
“No—” Tears ran down my cheeks.
“Cry,” she said lightly. “You always were good at that. But crying won’t save him. He was too powerful. People listened to him more than me. I couldn’t have that.”
She stepped close, tilting my chin so we were eye to eye. “You were always too pretty, Malia. Too… good.”
“But that’s the part you never understood,” I said, my voice raw but steady. “Being loved isn’t the same as being better. And no matter what you take from me, that’s the one thing you’ll never have.”
Her eyes darkened. “I’ll have your crown. That’s enough.”
“Not if I’m still alive to take it back.” I had never considered it. Never wanted it. But now… I knew she could not rule. Sereth’s heart had turned completely dark. Unmerciful. Ruthless.
A muscle twitched in her jaw before she stepped back, lifting the lantern. “Tomorrow you’ll be drowned.”
“Not hung?” I winced. Drowning sounded like agony.
“A witch must sink to truly be gone.”
