Page 88 of Hunger & Harmony

“Her Grace is here to speak with Lady Cadence,” a woman cloaked in red to the Archduchess’s left says. “Alone.”

Lorelai sputters quietly.

“Alone?” She shuffles on her feet, ridiculously polite as she says, “I would never dare question you, Your Grace, b-but . . .”

“There is no rebuttal,” the lady’s maid replies coolly.

She gestures for Lorelai to follow her. It’s only when she looks back at me in quiet panic that I realize her pink hair is tucked under a blonde wig. Why is she wearing such a gaudy thing? If I didn’t know her voice, I’d hardly recognize her. Am I truly that out of it?

I can’t speak up; I'm only able to watch as Lorelai is escorted from the dining hall.

Archduchess Imara steps in. I’m so dazed, I’m seeing double, her unyielding aura surrounding me as she lifts her chin.

“Death is not an option for those who exceed it.”

My stomach twists. I’m panting from thirst.

“You spend three days in agony.” Her voice cuts through me as she says, “A pathetic comparison to the time my nephew has spent.”

I whimper, knowing she tells the truth, agreeing with every word.

The click of her heels echoes around me. She approaches slowly, and I know I’m inadequate to even be prey in her eyes. I’m a nuisance. A disturbance to her spider’s web.

“While I seek to undo your hold on him, there is one thing you’re useful for.”

A yelp sounds, and I only register it’s me when I feel nails digging into my shoulder. She grasps me with so little effort, yet the force of it breaks skin.

I collapse onto my chair again, clutching the table and heaving on oxygen. Out of the corner of my eye, the Archduchess observes the droplets of red rolling down her fingers.

My blood. Not just mine anymore.

The blood that changed everything.

“The Dissonant Queen rises in silence.”

Brows furrowing, I continue to shake as she speaks.

“To strike down the impure King’s song.”

Her eyes slide over to mine, her irises burning crimson.

“And set fire to the Crown with no violence,

As the treasonous bard sang all along.”

The prophecy. Its rhythm seeps under my skin, familiar like wrong notes. My fate was sealed from the start. I tremble from a lot more than pain, and I crumple in on myself.

“I’m . . .” I croak out. “I’m sorry . . .”

“Your apologies hold no value to me.” She points her blood-soaked nail at me. “Only your blood does.”

Clarity sharpens in my mind, and I slowly sit up.

“How?” I whisper.

The doors fly open again, and I see why the fog lifted.

“You wish to part ways with your hand?”