Page 165 of A Realm of Shattered Lies

The thought makes me ill, but in more than one way. Ill, because it terrifies me thinking of what could have happened to my child. Ill, because Blaise would have been to blame if Cecilia had died.

Can I ever forgive Blaise, knowing that her actions almost caused my daughter’s death? Does it make me a horrible mother if I forgive my child’s potential murderer?

Not that Blaise intended for me to be caught in the cross fire. I suppose that’s part of the reason she broke off from the camp. Suppose she hoped the ritual for opening the Rip would cease before the rest of the party could catch up to her and Az.

But still.

It was a betrayal, nonetheless. And after Evander gave so much of himself to prove he trusted her.

Perhaps it’s my duty to hate her, to brand her as an adversary. An enemy to the family I would protect with my life.

But then, when my mind starts down that path, I always end up circling back. Back to the moments when I thought I lost my baby. Back to the shadows that surrounded me, threatening to drown me.

I’m not sure what I would have become had Cecilia died.

I don’t think I would have ended up like Blaise, foolishly trusting those who seek to use her, rather than depending on her loved ones and friends.

But I likely would have hated her. Hated her in the permanent sort of way, the sort of way I wouldn’t bother debating about.

I think it might have burned a hole inside me, a callus over my heart, and then I’m unsure what I would have done.

And even if I wouldn’t have turned out like Blaise, losing my baby, as horrific as the thought is, wouldn’t have made our sorrows equal.

No, Blaise has faced horrors in her short years, atrocities I’ll likely never have to endure.

I’m not sure if that means I’m allowed to forgive her, but I think that, at least for now, I can pity her.

And that makes not hating her easier.

“What do you think?” I whisper to Cecilia, who wriggles contentedly in my arms, her tiny little body a furnace warming my soul. “Will you be mad at me if I forgive her?”

Cecilia doesn’t answer. So far, my daughter is very little help when it comes to offering advice.

I’m about to tell her as much when the warped glass of the window shatters, stealing my breath and puncturing my back as I cover Cecilia with my body.

CHAPTER 69

EVANDER

Orion is just about to admit that I’m getting the hang of this magic thing, when shadows creep over the atrium and the blue sky turns silver.

“What in Alondria?” Orion’s vines snake back to his sides as he stares into the sky, his jaw set.

Overhead, blotches of silver paint the heavens, an army of Others reflecting the sunlight like clouds carrying the warning of a storm.

These are not the mere we fought on the plains of Rivre.

These are something different entirely, called on by their kinsmen.

Wings of silver reflect the sunlight, beating torrents of wind down upon us as the plants in the atrium sway in horror. Their long, lithe bodies are coated in shimmering scales that serve as armor for the creatures.

“Wyverns,” I say.

Orion glances over at me. “Wyverns are extinct.”

I shrug, grasping at the hilt of my sword. “In our world, they are.”

“We have to raise the alarm, alert the king,” says Orion, and then he’s off, and I follow.

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