“The only thing you deserve is a painful death,” I snarl over my shoulder.
I expect him to hurl equally ugly words back at me, but his voice is unexpectedly gentle when he says, “What about you? What doyoudeserve, Indira? Is dying for vengeance really what Rowenna would have wanted for you when you could choose to live for something greater?”
I laugh at his audacity. “Rowenna would never consider an alliance with her murderersomething greater.”
“What doyouthink? What doyoubelieve? Aren’t you ready to trustyour own instincts and choices? Don’t you want to live your own life instead of skulking around in Rowenna’s shadow? It’s okay to choose yourself. To choose to live. To chooseme,” he adds, whisper soft.
I open my mouth to argue, but the smoke strangles me. At least I tell myself it’s the smoke. The burning in my eyes and chest can’t be tears. I have no reason to cry, because Alaric’s wrong. I will never have to choose between my sister and myself because we are two halves of the same whole. Rowenna’s causeismy cause. She came here and sacrificed everything, trusting I would pick up the pieces, so that’s exactly what I’m going to do.
It’s what Iwantto do.
I may have gotten caught up in a few distractions along the way, but I will always choose her—chooseus—over everything else.
Alaric will never accept this, though, so I show him what he wants to see—deceiving him how he deceived me.
Summoning my best, most anguished whimper, I melt into him and finally open my shaking fingers. This time, when Alaric reaches for the chain, I let him take it.
As soon as he has the memory, Alaric tucks me against his chest and tears a hole in the back of the cave.
It isn’t smooth and seamless, like the first time I followed him to his hidden memory grove. Nor is it perfectly controlled, like when he opened the new mine shaft. This is a bloody gash, ripped open by ravenous claws. I swear I canfeelthe earth shudder with pain as we tumble through stone and sediment. I scream and brace for debris to pummel me. Crush me. But Alaric shields me with his body, bearing the brunt of the violent collapse.
We tumble out into the frigid dark of the mountaintop, retching and coughing, flames still dancing in my eyes. We lie there, gulping back the clean air, until Alaric says in a scratchy voice, “For a second there, I thought you were really going to choose the fire.”
“Me too,” I say, which makes him chuckle, even though I have neverbeen more serious.
Alaric rolls onto his side, staring at me so adamantly, so fondly, my skin begins to prickle again. I sit up and look away. If I don’t keep my traitorous body in check, I won’t be able to do what needs to be done next.
“I’m still not convinced I made the right choice,” I say archly, and Alaric’s expression immediately sobers.
“Thank you for giving me this chance. I know it wasn’t easy, given what you’ve seen—what you think I’ve done. But I’m sure I’ll be able to explain after I’ve seen the memory.”
“I hope so,” I say, even though I have no intention of listening to any of his convoluted explanations.
Alaric gets to his knees and holds the chain across his open palm. “Do you want to watch it with me?”
I don’t even have to force the shiver that overtakes me. “No, I don’t want to watch my sister die again. I’ll wait over there,” I point to a boulder behind Alaric.
“Of course.” He watches with a patient smile until I’m out of sight.
I press my back against the cold rock and count each thunderous heartbeat, waiting for the golden light to appear. When it finally blooms around the edges of the boulder, it reminds me of the sun rising over these peaks—gorgeous and glittering, like the dawning of a new day. Which feels appropriate since this will be the dawning of a new era.
As soon as I hear the far-off strains of Rowenna’s voice, I palm my knife, which I easily snatched back from Alaric’s belt while he saved me from the collapsing cave—then I slip soundlessly out from behind the boulder and slink toward Alaric’s kneeling form.
He looks as small as he did when Delphine and I caught him replaying Besnik’s death. Like a scared little boy, not a murderer. Thankfully, the golden memory is the perfect reminder.
My eyes catch on Rowenna’s face, and I’m torn between wanting to watch it all to strengthen my resolve and the very real fear I might notsurvive the heartbreak of experiencing her final moments again.
In the end, I look away and focus on the knife in my palm and the rage in my heart as I pad through the scree. When I’m less than a length away, Alaric flinches and lets out a curse, and I silently scream.
My ragged breath and thumping heart must have given me away. He’s going to whirl around and catch me stalking him like a mountain lion. He’ll sweep the ground out from under me and kill me like Rowenna. But several seconds pass, and instead of looking back, Alaric leans forward—further into the memory.
I let out a shaky breath and position myself directly behind him, close enough to feel the warmth of his body and the subtle shake of his shoulders. Close enough to hear burbles escape his throat—almost as if he’s crying.
For half a second, I allow myself to believe they’re tears of regret. He knows the bone-deep pain of losing a sibling and killed my sister anyway. But then I gaze into the golden scene and see the vicious expression on memory Alaric’s face as Rowenna empties the gemstone triad into her hand, and my resolve hardens. Hatred burns like coals in his eyes. His face twists into a cruel smile, reminding me that any regret Alaric feels in this moment is only for himself—because I uncovered his treachery and beat him at his own game.
It’s the final push I need.
As memory Alaric raises his hand to rip the ground out from under my sister, I raise my knife, take a breath, and howl Rowenna’s name as I plunge the blade into his back.
