I am so, so tired of being nothing.
The crowd cheers for Luc, butIwon this trial. Luc was born and raised in the glittering softness of Virdei. He washanded luxuries like compassion and kindness, only to waste them on everyone but me.
He has never known the heartbreak of being forgotten, cast aside, and taken for granted by those meant to love you. He will. I promise myself, I’m going to make him feel the way I do right now. Make him feel as heartbroken and powerless anduselessas he makes me feel day after day.
And unlike Lucien Kyler, whose parents have now joined him in the center of the arena, hands raised, accepting the twin praise of Virdei and Petruvia, when I make a promise, I deliver.
I’ll show him just how cruel I can be.
I’ve outgrown my current mask. I’ll craft myself a new one made of ice and a spine of steel. I’ll keep up the facade. I’ll take what he asks of me. I’ll win him this damned Tournament. I’ll serve Lucien Kyler the Virdeian throne on a silver platter.
And then I’m going to steal it for myself.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CONNIVING, VINDICTIVE, CRUEL
Revenge is a multistep process. It requires careful planning, attention to detail, and enough fury to set the world alight. I have all of the above.
Luc’s parents use the Praeceptor’s private dining room to celebrate his victory. I’m convinced they pick it just to spite me. To fully pound it into my skull how easily I can be discarded.
I wasn’t invited. Yelina gave me a smug, simpering smile as she placed a bony hand over her chest (presumably where her heart resides; I’m unconvinced she has one), feigning devastation as she delivered the news. “Unfortunately, Remira, I think it would be best if we don’t remind our guests of the scandal.” (Scandal referring to the horrifying fact that I exist.) “This is an important dinner. You understand,” she’d said.
Luc said nothing in my defense, and for the first time, it didn’t sting, because for the first time, I knew to expect nothing.
Besides, much as I hate Yelina, Idounderstand. I’m the one who’s always telling Luc to make a spectacle of his wins and obscure his shame. Sometimes, I almost let myself forget that his biggest shame is me.
With my favorite place taken, I work in the library. I set up my things at one of the tables along the windows that span theback wall. As the clock ticks closer to the start of Luc’s dinner, I play pretend that I’m not seething.
I know how this night will begin. Luc will come and find me to apologize for failing to defend me. As always. I’ll smile as though all is forgiven. As always.
One hour until Luc’s celebratory dinner . . . thirty minutes . . .
Just ten minutes to spare when the library door finally creaks open.
I hunch farther over the table so Luc doesn’t catch me watching the clock as his footsteps pad closer.
“You shouldn’t be here,” I say without looking up.
“That’s strange. I was under the impression the library is open to all members of the Honorate,” says someone who definitely isnotLuc.
Kaidren.
I stiffen in surprise as his steps pause just behind my chair.
I fix my face into a smile and turn. In my current mood, he’s the last person I want to talk to, but we’re friends. Or at least, he thinks he’s manipulated me into believing we are. “Kaidren. I wasn’t expecting you.”
“Hope you’re not disappointed.” He circles the table to stand across from me.
Something in the way he moves is off-putting. There’s tension in how he carries himself, different from his usual laid-back demeanor. There’s a table separating us, but the way he hulks over me, the way he leans forward . . . it feels almost predatory. Even that signature perfect smile of his is ever-so-slightlyoff. His eyes are tight in the corners, lips thinned, teeth looking more bared than pleasant.
“I’ve been searching for you,” he says. “I looked first in the Praeceptor’s dining room, but there’s a celebration there tonight. Seems neither of us was invited.” His tone lacks its usual fake warmth. Instead, his words are as frigid as lake water in the mountains.
“I wasn’t expecting an invitation,” I say.
He’s still smiling that small, unsettling grin. “That doesn’t mean much toyou, though, does it?”
His tone sets me on blade’s edge. I spoke to him just two days ago. He took great pains to coat his words in honey intended to ensnare me. Now his voice is bitter, and his stare is sharp.
