Page 19 of A Rising Hope

My mind ran blank.

Lie. Just say fucking anything!I shouted to my frozen mind as the prolonged silence became glaring.

But my thoughts came up short, completely useless. Not a single plausible answer appeared in the mess that I had become.

I swallowed hard, adjusting the book on my lap.

A truth and a lie will do.

“I do not have parents. They disowned me from the moment I refused to oblige with their commands, even as a child.”

“Really?” She leaned forward, peering at me, clearly not believing whatever lies I was spewing.

Shit.

“I chose the name for myself when I ran away. But if you must know.” I shuffled through all the Destroyer last names I knew—which, oddly enough, it was few—livid at myself for never asking about their family lineages.Such a fucking stupid thing to die because of. “My family name is Crisedeon.” I tried to hide a wince that flashed across my face at the sound of my made-up word. It was neither elvish, nor human, and definitely not Destroyer.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

I patiently counted the seconds, preparing for whatever the next question she’d surely ask. But the Queen didn’t reply, returning her eyes to the book.

I should go right now. Find an excuse to leave the room even for a moment. Then race upstairs, then . . .

Breathe.I’d wait a minute. Let the tension in the air settle, then I’d go. So, I reopened the book on my lap, glancing at the random page.

And there it was. The one dagger I could recognize out of a million.

Heart Piercer.

MyHeart Piercer. Yet here it had a different name.

The God Killer.

None of this mattered at all. A simple distraction but I continued reading.

The list of battles and its genealogy of owners went on for two pages, names scribbled and rewritten, reaching all the way to its first owner. None other than Lady Dynaya herself. I skimmed through the rest of the names until I reached the very last line. A little handwritten note by what I could only guess the Queen’s hand.

The God Maker.

Last owner: Insanaria M., Creator

12

FINNLEAH

TheGod Maker.

Those words lingered in my mind. I repeated them over and over, missing the meaning of the scribbles the Mad Queen had written. Time slipped past me, the early evening crouching on the horizon.

Whatever those words meant, it didn’t matter. At least it didn’t matter more than the half dead people hung from the thorny ceiling high in the castle top.

I reached for whatever remnants of bravery and valor I could find, taking a big breath and yet still feeling short on air. I finally mustered the courage to say, “May I excuse myself to the bathroom?”

The Queen carelessly waved me off before turning another page in her giant book. Her shadows moved on her silent command, as if ribbons trailing softly behind each step.

Breathe in. Breathe out.I reminded myself, taking measured steps until I was out of the room, then speeding up I reached the long hall. My steps quickened, but I didn’t dare look back. Soon the spiral stairway appeared—one set of stairs going up to the high towers, another downstairs to the bathing chamber and thecellar. Air whooshed from my lungs as I paused, listening for any indication that the Queen was following me, but the castle was quiet. I clenched my fists and narrowed my eyes at the landing of the spiral stairs. Up or down. This was it.

“What’s the worst thing that could happen, Daughter of the Dead?” I mumbled to myself, shaking off the light tremble in my body, feeling so lightheaded. I didn’t know whether it was from lack of food, or sleep, or maybe fear. I didn’t know, but I’d hope it was the first and not the latter. Though in the end it didn’t matter. “Death? Torture? Since when have I been afraid of that?” I encouraged myself.

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