Erynne laughs, and the sound makes my hackles rise. I try to picture Lionel laying siege to Darkfell, but all I can see in my mind’s eye are the impossibly high cliffs that frame the waters of the sea on Darkfell’s borders. It seems a foolish place to siege, but I am no soldier.

“He lost, of course,” my sister continues. “Nine months he fought and came back like a dog with a tail between his legs. Just long enough to kiss his baby son and impregnate me again. And then it was off to war once more, taking all men that could stand upright with him and leaving me in charge of a people that were running out of food. Did you know that when all the men go off to war, there’s suddenly no one to till the fields or mind the cattle? Did you know that a woman can only do so much with a baby hanging off of her? We tried to make up the slack, but in the end, there still wasn’t enough food. And then the rains just made it worse. It rained and it rained, and we starved and we starved. I envied you in the tower, you know.”

That takes me aback. “You did?”

“Yes.” Her expression grows dreamy. “It seemed like the perfect escape. Just sit in a tower on a bed of cushions, eating food and ignoring the world outside as it goes to shite. Sheer bliss. You didn’t have to worry about anything. You could be proud that you were doing your duty to the gods. Meanwhile I was outside trying to hold everything together.”

I feel a twinge of guilt.

“But at least I had my babies,” Erynne continues. She won’t look at me as she speaks, as if it’s too much for her mind if she sees me. “My strong little Allionel and my darling Ravendor.”

I jerk at the name, an uneasy feeling in my gut. “You named your girl Ravendor?”

She’s not listening to me, though. Her expression is vague. “They’re such good children, too. Strong and brave.” Erynne blinks hard and then turns back to me. “Isabella died, you know. During the famine. She gave her last bites of food to me so I could nurse my baby.”

“Oh gods, Erynne.” I reach for her hands. My youngest memories are of Erynne and Isabella, always together. They were closer than I was with Erynne. I also knew they’d been lovers for some time, and I can’t imagine my sister’s pain. “I know how much you loved her.”

“Nurse died, too,” she tells me. “Iphigenia. She was one of the first to die from weakness when there was nothing to eat.”

It’s a punch in the gut. I choke back a sob, horrified. All this time I’ve been excited to see both Nurse and Riza—sometimes more excited at the prospect of seeing them than my own sister—and to realize that I’ve lost Nurse breaks me. Hot tears slide down my face. “Please, no.”

“Yes.” Erynne’s voice is cold. “She was lucky. She didn’t live to see the destruction of our kingdom. After we starved for two full seasons, it was easy for the Fellians to take over. Our navy was destroyed. Our men were gone. The people left in the capital were weak, and Lionel thought he was some great commander. They captured him on the first day of the siege and after that, I knew it was just a matter of time. But I held out for as long as I could, because I knew Allionel needed a kingdom.”

A sick feeling grows in my stomach. “Where is he? Where’s the baby? Where are both of your children, Erynne?”

My sister turns her cold, unblinking eyes on me. “You don’t know?”

I shake my head.

“The Fellians stormed our castle, destroying everything in sight. They put every man to the sword. It didn’t matter how old or how young he was. If he was inside the walls, he was killed. They saved my Allionel for last, though. I held him tight in my arms, and they—they pulled him free—” She chokes.

“Don’t say it. Please don’t say it⁠—”

“They took him from my arms and flung him from the walls, Candra. Because a male human was a threat to them. He was a baby. He…”

I wrap my arms around my sister, hating every word she says. I hate them because I know they’re true. I hate them because they’ve broken my sister. While I sat safe and sound in the tower, my sister was fighting for her life. My sister had her baby ripped from her arms and murdered. “Ravendor?”

I’m terrified to find out the answer, but I know my sister has two children. If Allionel is dead…

“I don’t know.” Erynne chokes on the words, as if they’re difficult to say. Her arms tighten around me. It’s not a hug, not quite, but I’ll take it. “Once they stormed Lios, they put a collar on me. They took the women. They gave my baby to another woman. I don’t know where Ravendor is, Candra. I don’t have my babies.” A sob breaks from her. “My arms are empty. My kingdom is destroyed. And I-I-I need a knife.”

The change in conversation is so sudden I’m certain I’ve heard her wrong. I pull back. “You what?”

“I need a knife,” she tells me, frantic.

“The enchanted knife you gave me?” I shake my head. “It’s lost, stolen⁠—”

“Any knife. Do you have one?”

“No. What for?”

A smile curves my sister’s lips. “I’m going to cut Ajaxi’s throat while he sleeps. He keeps me chained to his bed so I can serve him whenever he wishes. So I’ll kill him and anyone else that tries to stop me from leaving this place.”

Chapter

Seventy-Seven

Istare at my sister in horror.

The rational part of me knows that she’s gone through hell recently. That she’s not herself. Her husband and her kingdom are destroyed. Her true love—Isabella—has died. Her son has been murdered and her other child given away. She’s been given to the enemy as a slave. Any of these things would break me, and yet my sister has endured all of them.

But the way she’s looking at me now is terrifying. The calm, rational Erynne Vestalin is gone. The Erynne who would do whatever it took to ensure the Vestalin line and the safety of our kingdom has been destroyed, just like Lios itself. I cannot stop staring at her dead eyes, at the look on her face.

I know in this moment that if I had a knife on me, she truly would murder as many people as she could, as long as they were Fellian.

“Erynne, no. That’s not the answer.”

She laughs. “Yes it is. They murdered everything I cared about. Give me a knife and I’ll make them pay.” Her eyes gleam with an unhinged light and she studies my clothing. “Do you have one on you? Hidden somewhere?”

“No!” I slap at her hands when she grabs at my dress. “Stop it!”

Her hand brushes over my rounded belly and she goes still.

Dragon shite. She knows.

Erynne draws back. Her shoulders straighten and she looks at me—really looks at me—for what feels like the first time. “How did you get out of the tower, Candra?”

“We waited for as long as we could. We waited for food. No one came, and Nemeth and I had to make a decision⁠—”

Her eyes narrow the moment I mention Nemeth’s name. “The Fellian. You didn’t kill him, then. I knew you were too weak. Too blinded by cock. Is it good? Does that monster have a fine cock? It must be excellent for you to betray your people just like that whore Riza.”

“Riza! She’s alive, then?”

“She should be dead,” Erynne spits, hatred contorting her face. “Cavorting with the enemy. Flirting with him. Pretending like he’s something other than a Fellian monster.” Her lip curls as she looks down at my belly. “And you…you’re no better. Unless…did he rape you?”

I feel sick. Sick at how hopeful her expression is. She’d rather have me brutalized by the enemy than happily married? I shake my head. “Nemeth is kind.” When she snorts, I continue on, ignoring her. “He’s a scholar. He’s good to me. I-I married him, Erynne.”

“You always were a fool for cock,” she says in a bitter voice. “You should have killed him when you had the chance. Unless you still have that poison I sent you…?”