Page 46 of The Throne's Undoing

Myra had completely wiped Kallie's emotions and replaced them with the false ones that Domitius had ordered Myra to weave together.

Therefore, unless Myra wanted to face the king's wrath and doom both of their lives, Kallie's emotions had to stay in check.

The king would have killed Myra if she failed and Kallie disobeyed him. But first, he would have tortured Kallie in front of her, forcing Myra to watch the consequences of her failure unfold. Myra had lost too many people to let that happen again.

Forcing herself to believe it was better than the alternative, Myra kept helping hide Domitius's true self. She continued to enable the cycle.

Myra now knew that living in ignorance only delayed the inevitable. Now, Myra had all the time in the world to rethink the choices she had made to get to this point.

One evening, as Myra stewed in her guilt inside the dark, damp cell, a couple of guards passed by, their low, muffled voices seeping into the room. Myra crawled over to the cell door and pressed an ear against it.

"Has there been any word about the princess?" one of the men asked.

Myra inhaled sharply as she waited for the other guard's response.

"No, nothing," another guard said. "The Frenzians have sent soldiers in search of the princess, but none have been successful in their quest."

"I heard one of the squadrons was completely slaughtered at the edge of the forest; only their bones were left."

"This is one time I am grateful for having this post. I would rather deal with the prisoners and traitors than deal with whatever creature ripped those soldiers to shreds."

Myra didn't know if she should be relieved or not that the king had failed to retrieve Kallie thus far. If Kallie remained missing, Domitius would not be able to use her. The king had always been so confident about his success, but the seer suggested that he could fail.

And if Myra could not escape the king's hold, maybe Kallie could. One of them deserved freedom, at the very least.

Her thoughts turned to her brother.

She didn't know how much time had gone by since she had heard her brother's screams.

She should have found solace in the fact that Mynhos was alive.

That truth gave Myra little reprieve, though.

While the king may have kept her brother alive while she did his bidding, it did not make Myra feel any better.

What kind of life must Mynhos have been living over the years? Was he, too, locked in one of these cells? Had he been here the entire time, living in the dungeon while Myra felt the sun kiss her cheeks?

Did the brother she once knew even still exist?

When Myra had seen him, Mynhos had refused to look at her. Did he even recognize her?

It had been nine years since Myra had last seen him. Many things had changed since then. He was only a boy, no more than four years old when they were first captured. When the king had taken them captive and killed their parents, Myra had promised that they would escape this place as she held her brother close and as his tears fell upon the marble floors of the throne room.

She could only imagine how much he hated her now.

If he had lived in the dungeons for the entire time, Myra would not have blamed him for hating her.

These days, she hated herself, too.

After everything she had done and the betrayal that coated her hands, Myra was no longer a personsheeven recognized.

Myra forced her gaze away from the shadows.

She tried to ignore everything else: the stench, the ache in her limbs, the iciness coating her fingers. Within the cracks of the ceiling, she tried to find an ounce of sunlight seeping into the cell. Anything that she could latch onto.

But all around her, death bloomed, and it had long since spread its infestation, bleeding into the cotton of her dress, latching onto her skin, and melting into her bloodstream.

So, the walls continued to cry, and Myra sat there, holding back her tears despite no one being able to hear her sobs.

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