I grimace as she chews. Lucien looks back, sees my disgusted expression, and bares his fangs in a grin like it’s funny.
“See? The food is fine.”
I lean forward and narrow my eyes. “Are you finished making a spectacle of yourself? I’m ready to talk about why you brought me here.”
Lucien sighs and mutters something under his breath. Then he runs a gentle hand down the woman’s arm and says, “You may go, sweetness.”
She smiles at him, bows her head, and stands to leave, swaying slightly. And when she does, so do the other humans, all standing and shuffling out at once—some in less than straight lines—toward the exits.
The human woman stands up at the end of the table. She picks up her breastplate and sword, movements slow and uncertain. My gut twists.
“What will happen to her?” I ask quietly.
Lucien waves a hand. “Oh, she’s fine. She’ll sleep it off and then be returned to where she lives.”
My eyes burn, and I start to truly hate him.
Lucien leans toward me. He’s not smiling any longer. His eyes are serious and clear.
“Alistair Brightbane is my older brother, but I inherited the throne instead of him. This entire war has been his vengeance. He wants to conquer Astreona and take back what he believes is his birthright.”
I stare at him, agape, sickness building in my stomach.
Fivecenturies of war, he’s trying to tell me—countless lives lost, endless hours of grief-stricken tears, a conflict that has shaped the entire history and culture of Nocturna—all stem from a family dispute oversuccession?
A squabble between brothers.
All the sacrifice and suffering my people have endured, the system of exploitation and oppression our false kings built around the war effort…
Could this possibly be true? That none of it was truly about protecting Nocturna from bloodthirsty monsters?
If Lucien’s being honest, we were all nothing but expendable toy soldiers.Pawns in a power struggle between immortal brothers who cared nothing for how many lived and died at their whims.
Shock passes through the communication bond. Everyone heard Lucien’s words echoing from the vaulted ceilings. Everyone’s grappling with the same loss and anger.
“Tell me I misheard that,” Venna begs. “Surely,surely, this entire war hasn’t been so meaningless.” Her voice silences the quiet conversations being shared by the other Siphons.
Lucien glances down the table at her, something in his gaze heating as he assesses her. Is he going to scold her for speaking out of turn? My hand creeps toward my dagger again, but eventually he says, “What is war if not a meaningless battle of egos?”
“Howdare you?” I snap. “This may have felt meaningless toyou, but we’ve lost so many lives. People with loved ones who believed they were sacrificing themselves for a greater good.”
I can’t think about my father. I can’t.
“And how do you expect me to believe this?” I ask. “You’re telling us that our entire history, everything our country knows, is a lie. Not just some of it.Allof it. Butyou’rethe ones with mind-control powers, not us.”
Lucien puts his elbow on the table and his face in his palm, looking at me with a bit of boredom, like I’m being dense. “Yes, that’s true, I suppose. But the Siphon on your throne had mind-control powers, too, did he not? Why would we also use them against you?”
I press my lips together. Yes—Alistair used blood magic and mind control to erase the history of my family line.
“To what end are you accusing us of using our powers against you?” he continues. “You thinkwe’rethe ones who have lied to you throughout history? Or do you think I’m trying to trick you right now at this moment?”
Before I can get a word in edgewise, he continues onward, his voice drawling.
“As with your accusations that I’ve poisoned your food, I think you’ll find that tampering with your mind would go against my purposes. Why would Ihave brought you all this way to persuade you to work together, if I could have just had my standard-bearers alter your minds back at the border? Besides, you seem to have a complete misunderstanding of how the power works. I forget how little you Nocturnans know.”
Would it be consideredrudeif I stabbed one of these fine forks through his hand?
“Enlighten us,” I say through clenched teeth.
