“Of course I hate her!” Cassia’s eyes fill with startling tears. “She takes everything good, stealseverything, and even the things that should be precious are degraded and?—”
Her expression shuts off. She shakes herself. Swipes at her cheeks. Takes a deep breath before she rises to her feet, leaving the dress where it lies. “It’s up to you. Antony made it clear I’m to do as you ask, so make a choice, Thyra.”
She stalks to the door, where she pauses. “You canwash up in the bathing room. Come out once you’re dressed. I’ll fix your hair and find a way to cover those bruises.”
With that, she steps outside and pushes the shelves back into place behind her, leaving them open only a small crack, so I’m not fully shut in.
Taking deep breaths, I kneel in front of the dress, my hands hovering in the air above it, unable to touch it.
It’s far too beautiful to be worn. Carries too much pain and loss.
Of course, I can’t dismiss Cassia’s suggestion. I can’t ignore the strategy in wearing this gown, assuming it even fits me. To present myself to Galla Vividari wearing a dress she coveted would be like declaring I’m above her, that I stand higher than she could ever reach.
But I also can’t dismiss Antony’s pain. Or even Cassia’s, for that matter. This priceless material must have been passed down through generations, from one Queen to the next, from one death to the next, eons of hope, love, and then…loss.
I can’t ignore that the last monarch to wear this dress was important to both of them.
Or that her death changed the course of their lives.
If Aeliana were still alive to keep the kingdom safe each night, Galla would not have the power she does.
I have no doubt Galla would have been as complicit in Aeliana’s death as the former king. Yesterday, I wondered what could have broken Antony so badly that he’d believe I would choose pain as long as others suffered, too.
Well, now I know.
I consider the simple black pants and overskirt, both lying over the side of the bench. The corset has ended up underneath the dress, but I can’t bring myself to disturb the silver material yet, so I leave the corset where it is for now.
I make a decision: The black clothing will have to do.
Having resolved myself, I head to the bathroom to wash up, spying a pile of fresh bloomers on a shelf along the way. I have no hesitation in taking a pair. Cassia’s taller than me, but has a similar build, and there are so many pairs she can’t miss one.
The entry into the bathing room is wide open. No door. I quickly slip off my dirty clothing—boots and pants, along with Antony’s tunic, my own bloomers, and my soft corset—before I reach for a cloth, dampen it, and prepare to wash quickly with it.
I’ve barely started when Cassia’s quiet voice floats in from the other room, audible enough that she must be standing on the other side of the shelves.
“Brother, about the dress?—”
“I meant what I said, Cassia.” His response is hard. “The past is gone. Protecting Thyra is all I care about now.”
There’s a moment of silence. “Actually, you saidpreparingThyra was your focus, but who am I to point out the difference?”
His response is a wordless snarl, but it seems Cassia’s willing to let it go because she continues, even more quietly, “You didn’t break the curse last night.”
“A curse as powerful as this one can’t be broken so quickly.”
Her voice sounds hopeful. “But you’ve made a start?”
“Of course.”
Damn. His lie pricks me. I haven’t started anywhere. My first crucial step was understanding that thereisa curse and how it came to be.
When Antony takes me to the library today, I want to read everything I can about curses, how they’re broken, as well as all the information I can find about the False Queen. There has to be a way to break this curse and free myself from the blade.
“All of the pieces need to come together,” Antony continues smoothly. “It won’t happen withouttime and care.”
“Well, can you tell me?—?”
“No.” There’s a pause. “Cassia, you’re my sister, and I love you, but I’m not telling you anything that could get you killed.”
