As they depart, I pretend to make my way back up to Widow’s Hall. I keep up the act until I no longer hear their trudging footsteps. Visibility on the mountain is awful—which works in my favor now as I climb right back up.
The station is abandoned now, leaving me free to set my stage. There are tshira spears bracketed to the walls. I take them down and scatter them across the floor. I do the same with the handful of swords left behind. I rip down the Virdeian banner on the wall and then tear it in two for good measure.
I drag my boots across the floor, leaving dark scuff marks. And, finally—the finishing touch—I smear a few streaks of dark red paint on the floor. A bit more on the walls. Coat it on the tips of a few spears.
When I’m finished, it tells the story I want: there’s been a battle, and our defenses have been breached. When the sentriesdo their routine sweep of the gateposts, they’ll find the most important one abandoned with signs of a struggle. Evidence that the guards stationed here fought valiantly and lost.
I wipe my hands against my pants and make my way to the sky cart to get back up the mountain to prepare. Today, Luc will be crowned Praeceptor of Virdei once more. All the pieces are perfectly aligned for me to take back all the power I’ve stolen for him. In this game of smoke and mirrors, I’m confident I’ll win.
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
CROWNING A FRAUD
My dress for the coronation is green, gold, and black. Sef picked it out for me. The emerald green makes me feel like I’m back in my Honorate robes, dressed for chamber. I feel powerful as I look at myself in the mirror. Regal. As if I am looking down on the rest of the world from a great height.
Sef knocks on my door. I run my hands over the front of my dress, smoothing it before going to greet her. She’s here to do my hair before the start of the ceremony.
I grin as I open the door—but it isn’t Sef on the other side.
My expression freezes.
It’s a woman with dark eyes, dark hair, and my nose. A face I know as well as my own.
“A-Aja?” My voice trembles with shock. “What are you—” Realizing she’s standing out in the hall where anyone could see her, I grab her arm and pull her inside. “What are you doing here?”
She doesn’t answer right away. She looks me over, eyes swimming. She places one hand over her mouth, the other clenched over her chest.
I want to freeze this moment in time. The look on her face is one I haven’t seen in seven years. A look I’ve longed for since I stole her memories and watched myself become a stranger to my own mother. Recognition.Affection.
My throat is suddenly clogged. I want to say something, but words are impossible, and all I do is stare at her.
Slowly, Aja reaches for my hand.
I let her take it with no resistance. She flips it over. A quivering finger glides over my tattoo. The first tear drips, landing on the golden sun. Her voice is hushed as she says, “You squeezed my hand so hard, I thought it was going to fall off.” She looks up, meeting my gaze with a tenderness I’ve longed for. “But you didn’t cry.”
“You remember.” I sound like I’m being strangled. I don’t know when my own tears started, but my face is soaked, and I throw my arms around her. She’s shorter than me now, but I sob into her chest as though I’m still that little girl who could fit in her lap.
“Mira.” She whispers my name like a prayer. “My beautiful Mira.”
My bottom lip trembles. I squeeze her tight, enjoying the lost sensation of being loved. “Mom.” I haven’t called her that in seven years. It only makes me cry harder. “How are you here?”
She doesn’t let me go. “After you left, I started having dreams. Today, I woke up and it all came back to me.”
My most recent journey to Ophera was the first time I returned without clearing her memory. A foolish oversight. Seeing me again with no magic to temper her memories had consequences, but I have no regrets. I have a mother again.
Aja pulls away, only slightly, to run her hands over my face, my hair, my clothes. “You’re so big,” she says in awe. “And beautiful. You always were. Butlookat you in that dress. It’s like that robe you used to wear. It was always too big for you.”
I lean into her hand cupping my cheek. “You remember the robe?”
“I remember everything.” Her watery smile slackens. “I missed you, Mira.”
“You didn’t know to miss me.”
She shakes her head. “Imissedyou.”
She’s telling the truth, and it makes me sob harder.
There’s a knock—Sef’s signature rhythmic one. My eyes widen. I’d allowed myself to forget what today is, and all I have planned.
