Page 15

I hold a finger to my lips. “Shush, they may hear.”

More footsteps stomp down the stairs as I peer through the gaps.

“What do you see?” Sable asks. My eyes widen in horror as my mother thrashes and kicks at the guards dragging her away from our home. A row of wooden stakes rises from the earth like jagged teeth, their bases piled high with kindling. That’s where they’re taking her.

A finely dressed man steps forward as fire erupts beneath the first column, and the mage bound to it lets out a guttural scream, her back arching as the flames take hold. Sable wriggles closer trying to see, and I jerk her back. But the smoke carries the smell of burning hair, and somewhere in that haze is my mother, so I watch, because looking away feels like letting her die alone.

Next to the man, my mother’s pale face is just visible through the thick clouds of black and gray smoke. Men stack wood beneath her as some of the other stakes erupt in flames. The cries of pain and rage are the saddest chorus I’ve ever heard.

The men set fire to the dry branches at my mother’s feet, with no more emotion on their faces than if they were clearing the land.

I brace for her screams to reach me and tear my heart to shreds, but she’s smiling as the flames lick the bottom of her clothes. My eyes burn with smoke and tears, but the woman tied to the stake next to her catches my attention.

At first I think I’m seeing double, so I scrub my eyes and look again, but the woman on the left has a jagged scar running down her cheek. I know it’s not my eyes or the smoke playing tricks on me, but it seems impossible.

Aunt River vanished years ago and left Mama hollow-eyed for weeks after. They are twins, and it’s so hard to tell them apart from this distance that it’s like watching my mother burn twice.

The guards watch them with curiosity. Mama’s eyes are locked on her sister, but she still doesn’t scream.

“Did you get my message?” Aunt River’s voice is rough but steady, pitched just loud enough to carry through the crackle of flames and screams.

My mother tilts her chin down half an inch—barely a movement, but Aunt River sees it. “Blood of mine is blood of yours.”

Something breaks across my aunt’s face, relief so sharp it hurts to see. Her chin trembles, and tears spill down her cheeks.

“Then it was worth it,” my aunt says quietly.

The guards laugh at that. One of them spits at my mother.

“So I guess Ma was right?” Aunt River says. “She always said we were born together to die together.”

My mother looks at her sadly and nods. “But now we know what we’re dying for.”

Screams of the Arcanum fill the air as more stakes are set alight.

My mother lifts her head, smoke curling around her face, and smiles again.

Not at the crowd of guards that circle them, though.

“King Torin,” she says, smiling at the man approaching her stake.

“Finally reunited. I thought you would have learned after your mother. Seems I was wrong. Instead, you start a rebellion. You’re just as troublesome as she was.”

“Wrong. I learned from her that your fate was sealed with ours. You believe burning us will save you?” My mother laughs.

The Vampire King snarls. “Our kingdoms are dying because of what you’ve done.” His mouth twists in irritation, as if her calm offends him more than the threat of curses ever could. He raises his voice so everyone can hear. “Was it worth it? Abandoning your posts? Turning your backs on the kingdoms that fed you? Look at you now.”

Another pillar flares to life. A seventh. Yet each time the flames reach Mama, they die out, as if waiting for her permission. The guards try again.

The air vibrates, like the moment before a storm breaks.

A low, broken sound scrapes out of Mama’s chest. “You forget,” she says, voice carrying through the chaos. “We were never bound to your kingdoms.”

The king’s eyes narrow.

“We were bound to you.”

For the first time, uncertainty flickers across his face.