Page 59 of The War Queen's Daughter

Mother. Now Vivenne.

Atlas.

Heald.

I wish I was dead.

“Why?” It’s a guttural grunt more than a word and I speak it less for an answer and more just to get it out of me.

“Remi.” She’s awake, but doesn’t fight when I stiffen, ready to shatter her skull on the stone if I must. “Daughter of my heart… I love you. But I couldn’t let you.” She coughs softly. “Ruin everything.”

Blind rage wants to twist her head on her neck and end it. “Mother,” I whisper. “You betrayed her.” Not who I thought she was at all. “Is Amber dead?”

“Yes,” she says, voice dull and tired. “When they took you captive and let me know, she knew. They let me kill her. Quickly, mercifully. I swear it. I meant the same for you.”

“How thoughtful.” I slap the back of her head. As I remember what she said. How she met Mother on the road, had a task of her own to perform.

She was here, in the Citadel. The assassin who failed to kill me.

I really need to kill her, now. This talk will turn on me in more ways than one, and she can’t be trusted not to gather her strength to attack me again. I might not be so lucky next time. But this is Aunt, my blood.

What thefuck.

“You should never have been born,” she whispers, her voice barely audible. I misjudged her ability to rally. She’s fading, there’s no faking it. She’s fighting off unconsciousness, yes, but losing. I bend closer, ready to end her if need be, tormenting myself with her confession. “Your mother, Remalla, your mother.” She huffs a breath like she’s struggling for air. I ease up my knee on her spine, what little good it does her. “No one is meant to wield that kind of power. Especially not your mother.”

“It’s just a throne,” I snarl at her.

She coughs a string of short bursts, and I realize too late that she’s laughing. “You have no idea, child,” she says, “the power you carry inside you. That all drakonkin do, but you most of all. The power the Overking stole to bend this land to his will.”

I blink into the gloom. “Magic,” I say. “You’re talking about fairy tales and legends.”

Vivenne sighs, sagging further. She mutters something I don’t catch, and I slap the back of her head the second time to rouse her. She splutters, shudders, groans. It’s only then that I see the pool of darkness shining beneath her as it spreads outward, faint light of what has to be the first blush of dawn reflecting from it.

She’s bleeding badly, and I didn’t notice. There will be no fight from her any longer.

“You’re working with Hallick,” I say. This is tied to whatever Zenthris stole. I’m putting puzzle pieces together that should never have connected in a wild and coincidental mass that can only be driven by something bigger.

Like fate. Like magic.

“He promised me Heald would be safe,” she says. “Your mother’s grasping, her ambition, was well and good when she was distracted by her skirmishes and the battles she picked with our neighbors. But when you were born, Remalla, I knew whose daughter you were. And what your mother planned. A drakonkin on the Overqueen throne would free the magic of the dragons. And reverse all that we paid for in blood.” She goes very quiet and still, and I have to feel for a pulse as she speaks again. “The blood of Heald. The fate of our people is in your hands.” She moans. “I should have killed you when you were a babe. I am as weak as Jhanette always claimed me to be. But I thought I could mold you, control you. Prevent what I have clearly failed to prevent. And for that, I am sorry.”

“What was stolen, Vivenne?” I prod her. “Don’t you dare die until you tell me everything.”

“A key,” she says, “to a secret that will do what you on the throne would accomplish. A way into the magic of the dragons that should never have been allowed to remain.” Her fingers scrabble on the ground, startling me, but I think it’s a spasm because they fall still again. “Your precious Overprince knows more than you think,” she says. “Everyone lies to you, Remi. Especially the ones you love. Remember that, if you keep with you nothing else of me.”

I don’t know what to say. I believe her, though. She has no reason to lie despite her fresh warning. As I’m debating, I feel her stiffen just a little, twitch.

She exhales a long, quiet breath and falls still.

I’ve been around death my entire existence. I know when someone is faking their passing to protect themselves. And I also know when a soul has left the body and moved on to whatever is next.

She’s gone, and I weep over her despite her. Despite her betrayal.

“I hope Mother finds you,” I say as I kiss her cheek and rise, leaving her facedown on the stone, avoiding her blood pool as I back away toward the door.

I’m reminded it’s still open. Freedom waits through the gap she left when she unlocked it to get to me. To try for the second time to kill me. I wipe at my face with both hands, trying to ground myself. There’s so much to think through, so much grief to process. There will be time for that, it seems, if I’m careful.

But it will all have to wait until I escape.

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