Page 79 of Reign of Betrayal

We passthrough the towering stone wall that encloses the kingdom, leaving behind the safety it offers. There are still many houses outside of the wall, occupied by people who can’t afford housing within the inner circle.

Reign glances around, scoffing. I turn to her as we continue walking and ask, “What is it?”

“It’s crazy to me that those with coppers are protected, but those who have nothing to their name aren’t worth saving,” she replies.

Passing several broken-down houses, I respond, “We save everyone, Reign. Or are you forgetting yesterday?”

The houses become smaller and more rundown as we move farther from the stone wall. “I remember all too well, Prince. You only did it to stop the infection from spreading through the Drifts. That would have been a much bigger problem.” She shakes her head. “This is your kingdom too. All these people, whether they have coins or not, should be behind the wall, protected.”

We walk the rest of the way in silence as I mull over her words. This is my kingdom, my people. All of them, the richest of the rich and the poorest of the poor. I will keep this in the back of my mind and mull it over later.

We reach the house Raymon told us about just before the sun starts its descent. It’s a run-down cottage on the outer edge of the kingdom, one of the last rings of houses, far from the wall. It is almost as bad as the Drifts, almost. The shutters are hanging off, paint chipped, and there is no glass for the windows. We are crouched behind some bushes, watching. “Go on. Finish the job.” My mouth speaks the words, but that is not what I intended to say. She looks at me with fear and uncertainty in her eyes. I want to comfort her but the words on the tip of my tongue won’t come out. I want to go in and kill the wielder, but I can’t get my legs to move.

“This is your task to complete. We will send you back to the Hollows, or possibly death, if you don’t complete it.”

Her face flushes red with rage at the threat. She leaves me, moving swiftly and carefully toward the house, peering in the windows.

I try to go to her, to tell her that is not what I meant to say, but I can’t. My feet won’t move. My body is locked. Fucking mind magic. I can feel it, the unnatural influence clinging to my mind, but I can’t shake it.

Sometimes when memories are wiped, altered, or planted, you can feel them lingering, just out of reach, like a dream that slips away when you wake. It’s there, on the tip of your tongue, but unattainable. Sometimes, one strong emotion can shatter the mind control. The more I push, the more crippling my fear of Vanna or the king harming Reign becomes. The magic keeps me trapped right here. I can’t get close to the house, no matter how hard I try. All I can do is crouch and pray she completes the task without breaking—or getting hurt.

My palms are slick with sweat as I peer in the window. A woman stands inside, her roots pale against the dark brown of the ends of her hair. Her eyes shine—pale blue, unnervingly bright. She leaves the room for a moment, and my gaze catches the kettle on the wood-burning stove. I can put half the vial in the kettle—that should surely kill her.

Guilt races through my body, making me shake like a leaf rattled by the wind. What if she didn’t do this crime? I don’t have a choice. The lethal Captain of the Guard is right behind me, watching my every move.

When she doesn’t return, I slip quietly through the window, creeping toward the stove. I pour half the vial into the kettle, tucking the rest into my pocket. The whistle of the kettle pierces the silence, and panic grips me as I hear her footsteps returning. My heart slams against my ribs, so loud I fear it will give me away. I crouch behind the couch, pressing myself low to the floor.

I try to slow my breathing, so it is not heard. Breath shallow, I will myself to stay still as her steps reverberate through the room. She walks past the couch, each step a thunderous beat in my ears. I hear the familiar sound of the liquid being poured into a cup. Tears prick my eyes as my throat constricts. I have always had the capacity for violence—my time in the Hollows proves that. But those I killed deserved it. I don’t know if she does.

I hear her gulping down the tea, then the clank of it being set on the table. The sound echoes, final.

“Come out, Lavender. I know you’re there,” she calls out.

My breath catches. Heart thundering in my throat, I rise, pulling my dagger from its sheath.

“There’s no need for all that.” Her voice is steady, calm. “I drank the Silent Surrender. But if it makes you feel better, just… Please make it quick.”

Coming around from behind the couch, I approach the table. Her beautifully pale eyes track my every movement. “You knew I put it in there? And still drank it?”

She puts her hand out, gesturing for me to take a seat at the table with her. I look at her wearily. Hesitation halts me for a moment, but I sheath my dagger and have a seat.

“How did you know the poison was in there? How did you know I was here? How do you know my name?” So many questions shift around the corners of my mind. I bounce my leg nervously under the table, waiting for her response.

“I am a blood wielder, right?” she asks with a playfully sarcastic voice.

I nod, uneasy at her lightness.

“It is fate,” she murmurs. “I saw it. I am not afraid to die, rather I am afraid to live. I’m afraid to be captured and used for evil.” She sucks in a deep breath. “I am afraid to lose my loved ones for not surrendering to the kingdom. I gladly accepted this fate as I hid my family.” She grabs her stomach, grunting, leaning over the top of the table for a second before righting herself. “I am one of the most powerful blood wielders around here, one stupid move…” She shakes her head guiltily. “And I was caught. I refused to serve the King or the princess. I escaped once, but I knew it would end here.”

Sweat kisses my upper lip and hairline as I continue to bounce my leg, drumming my fingers on her chipped wooden table, which reminds me of one from my childhood. “You didn’t see that you would be caught?”

She shakes her head with a rueful smile. “I am not all-knowing. I only get fragments—glimpses of possibilities. But eventually, I realized this was the path fate has chosen for me.”

“Did you summon the Necrums?” I stare into her pale blue eyes, waiting for her to respond.

Her expression sobers as she shakes her head. My chest tightens, the truth stabbing deeper than I expected—she had nothing to do with the attack. She’s innocent. The weight of that knowledge splinters my heart.

“Do you know who summoned them and how?” I whisper, guilt-filled tears prick my eyes.

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