by Amy Tintera
Em’s stomach twisted into knots. Olivia could conceivably murder thousands if she was free to carry out that plan.
“We don’t have enough people,” Em said. “Once we leave here, the humans will likely just come right back.”
“I think we can spare a few Ruined who will travel between our conquered cities. People will learn what happens if they go back to a Ruined city.” Olivia’s lips twisted into something like a smile. “Besides, Casimir doesn’t have much of an army these days, does he? Isn’t his cousin still trying to take the throne from him? And they surely haven’t heard the last from Olso yet. Those warriors never retreat for long.”
Em swallowed. Olivia was right, unfortunately. Cas couldn’t fight three enemies at once. It was the perfect time for the Ruined to swoop in. It was the sort of scenario their mother had dreamed of.
“It’s a good plan, isn’t it?” Olivia asked smugly.
“It’s a risky plan.”
“All the best ones are. You taught me that.”
The knots in her stomach tightened. Em had taught her that. Olivia was free because of Em’s risky plan, because she killed a princess in cold blood and planned to kill many more. King Salomir was the one who kidnapped and enraged Olivia, but Em certainly hadn’t set a good example since.
Em reached for her throat, where the necklace with the O charm—for Olivia—used to hang around her neck. She’d put it in a drawer a few days ago, and she kept forgetting and reaching for it.
Olivia’s eyes followed the movement.
“I put it away,” Em said quietly. “It was how people recognized me. I’d prefer to be more discreet.” It was the truth, but only part of it. The necklace had become a constant reminder of her sister. Em preferred it out of sight.
Olivia turned away before Em could see her expression.
“You can come if you want,” Olivia said, her voice light. “But I know how emotional you get, watching humans dying. I guess you have more in common with them than the Ruined these days, don’t you?”
A few of the Ruined murmured their agreement.
Olivia looked back at Em and raised her eyebrows. She clearly wanted Em to come, if only to prove that Em couldn’t stop them. She was right. Even if Aren came with her, the two of them couldn’t stop twenty Ruined on their own.
“Let’s go,” Olivia said when Em didn’t answer. She kicked the sides of her horse and started down the road. The other Ruined followed.
“What do we do?” Aren asked quietly as they watched them go.
“Nothing.” Em closed her eyes and let out a heavy sigh. While she’d been fretting and feeling sorry for herself, Olivia had formed a plan. She’d organized her supporters and now there was nothing Em could do to save the people in Fayburn.
And this certainly wouldn’t do anything to endear them to the people of Lera. Cas already had his work cut out for him, trying to convince his people that not all the Ruined wanted to hurt them.
“We need to find out for sure who’s with us,” Em said. “We need a plan to stop her.”
“I know some. I can talk to Mariana and Ivanna and see who might be on our side.”
“Good. Do it. Let’s meet first thing tomorrow morning.”
“Do we have a plan to tell them?” Aren asked.
“Not really. But I think I know where we need to start.”
“Where?”
“Partnering with Cas and the Lera army.”
FIVE
IRIA HAD SPENT three nights in a jail cell.
She’d arrived in Olso dirty and exhausted from the trip across the ocean, and had actually been grateful for the tiny lumpy bed in the cell. At least it wasn’t rocking and jerking with the waves. She’d always hated traveling by ship.
But she’d only slept well the first night. The morning had brought warriors trailing in, one after another, to glare and yell at her. They didn’t usually allow prisoners awaiting trial to have visitors. It seemed Iria was the exception.
The fourth morning she woke early, the sun not yet peeking in from the tiny window at the back of her cell. She sat on her bed and waited, knees pulled to her chest.
Today would not be a good day. Today, she stood trial for treason.
Outside, she could hear the sounds of the day getting started as the sun rose—murmured voices, horse hooves on the street, even the smell of fresh bread. There was a bakery near the courthouse, and some mornings the breeze carried the scent of bread all the way to her cell.
She’d grown up not far from here, and had visited that bakery several times. Mornings were chilly year round, and she had the first shift at school, so she’d often duck in before sunrise and eat a warm sticky bun before class. The owner, an older woman with a kind smile, would give her free hot chocolate sometimes, and Iria would sit at one of the stools by the window and watch warriors and judges and other government people stream into the courthouse.
She’d gone back to the bakery recently, when she’d been home briefly between her trips to Lera and Ruina. The kind owner had passed away and a perfectly nice young man had taken her place, but the rolls tasted different and they didn’t sell hot chocolate anymore. And as she walked out of the bakery with her disappointing pastry, she’d thought of Aren, and wondered if he’d made it to Ruina, and if he had enough food. It had been her idea to bring the Ruined food when the king decided to send August.
She willed away thoughts of Aren as a guard stomped down the center aisle of the jail cells. There were at least twenty cells at this location, but Iria hadn’t seen or heard any other prisoners. Perhaps they thought being a traitor was contagious.
Iria got to her feet as the guard stopped in front of her cell. The door slid open with a bang. Another guard appeared beside him.
“It’s time,” the first guard said. “Hold out your arms.”
She did as he said, and the guard slapped handcuffs around her wrists. The chains rattled as she lowered her hands.
“Follow me.” The guard stepped out of the cell and she trailed behind him. The other one was on her heels, and up ahead she could see two more in their white-and-red uniforms. Olso jails were not easy to escape from, but they clearly weren’t taking any chances.
The cells were attached to the courthouse through a long hallway, and her heart thudded in her chest as they walked. She hadn’t seen her family or friends since arriving back in Olso, and she was both dreading and looking forward to it.
They reached the end of the hallway and the guard pulled open the door. Iria squinted in the bright light as they stepped onto the marble floors.
She knew this courthouse well—the high ceilings, the bright white floors, the stained-glass doors that brought a blast of cool air every time they opened. Her father was a judge. She wondered if he still was, or if he’d been punished for her actions as well.
The courthouse was full of people, and they turned to stare as she walked by. Cas’s mother, the former queen of Lera, used to be the most famous traitor in Olso. It seemed Iria had snatched that title away.
She swallowed down a wave of panic. She still wasn’t entirely sure how she’d gotten here. Her family was highly regarded in Olso, and she’d had no trouble passing the exams to become a warrior. She’d beaten out stiff competition to win the honor of helping Emelina Flores execute her plan to take down Lera. Then the Lera castle had fallen, the Ruined agreed to partner with Olso, and Iria had been heralded as a hero. She could still see the pride in her mother’s eyes when she’d come back from Lera, the first time. She had exceeded her expectations, and that was not an easy task with her mother.
And now, Iria was here. About to go on trial for treason.
Aren. His face popped into her head and refused to leave, no matter how many times she willed it away. She had betrayed her fellow warriors in the jungle for him. The choice was to let them kill Aren, or betray them, and that had not been a difficult decision. She hadn’t given it a second thought before screaming the warning that saved Aren’s life. She
hadn’t hesitated to run when he took her hand.
He, however, hesitated plenty. He was still in Lera—or back in Ruina, maybe—because he was too scared to leave the Ruined. Even when he was horrified and scared of Olivia, he chose her over Iria, because of the marks on their bodies. Because of the powers they shared. She could see the conflict in Aren’s eyes, but still, he hesitated.
Not that it mattered now. Barring a miracle, she would rot in a prison for the rest of her life.
I’ll find you. I don’t care if I have to break into every prison in Olso. I’ll find you. Aren’s last words to her rang in her ears, spoken only a couple of weeks ago. She’d believed him at the time. She remembered thinking that of course the most powerful Ruined alive would rescue her.
But reality hit on the journey across the sea. As they put her in the cell. Aren had never even been to Olso. The Ruined were on the brink of war with Lera. She was not his priority, and to hope for a miraculous rescue from him would only bring disappointment.
A shout made her head jerk up, and through the front windows, she saw a huge group of people standing outside the courthouse. Most of them wore black and brown coats—fashion in Olso was much more understated than in Lera—and there were a few red warrior uniforms scattered among them. Some of the people held signs, and she craned her neck to read a few.
WE DEMAND VICTORY.
FIGHT THE RUINED.
A few of the protestors were trying to enter the courthouse, and guards were struggling to keep them back.
Iria felt a tug on her chains, urging her to walk faster, and she turned away from the protestors. The Olso warriors had suffered humiliating defeats in Lera and in their own country, and it seemed not everyone was ready to give up the fight.
The guard opened the door to the courtroom. The benches to her left and right were packed but silent, and she had to blink away tears as she scanned the faces. Many were familiar.
She spotted her parents almost immediately. Her mother hadn’t bothered to turn to see Iria enter. She stood rigidly, staring straight ahead. Iria’s mother was not understanding about even the smallest of things, so she certainly wouldn’t have any sympathy for a traitor daughter. Iria knew this, but it stung anyway. Her father was turned to watch Iria, tears in his eyes, disappointment and anger lining his face.
At the front of the room sat the judge, on a platform elevated slightly over the rest of the room. To the left of the judge was a woman Iria didn’t know—a government official, probably—and to the right was August. King August now, since Olivia had killed almost his entire family. Of all the heirs to the Olso throne, Iria would have chosen August last.
The king wouldn’t normally be present at a trial, but Iria was special. He watched her walk into the room, his face unreadable. He was already an unpopular king, since the people (rightly) blamed him for the Ruined attack on the Olso castle.
A long table was in front of the judge, where Iria was expected to stand during the proceedings. The guard left her at the table without removing the chains around her wrists.
Iria dared a glance over her shoulder. Just behind her was Daven, a boy she had dated briefly a couple of years ago. He glared at her with such contempt that she wished she’d been meaner when she dumped him.
She faced forward again. The judge motioned for the room to quiet down and the hushed whispers around her faded.
“Iria Ubino,” the judge said. “You’ve been charged with treason, murder, and colluding with the enemy. You may speak to these charges, if you wish.”
She clasped her hands together to keep them from shaking. “I never murdered anyone.”
The judge pointed to Iria’s right. “Warrior Rodrigo, can you speak to those charges?”
Iria looked and found Rodrigo standing. He was a warrior she’d known well, before. He had been there when she escaped with Aren, when he and the other warriors killed the Ruined with no warning, no reason.
“Three warriors died when that Ruined, Aren, attacked us and left with Iria,” he said.
Iria faced the judge. “And two Ruined died. The warriors killed them.”
“As they’d been ordered to,” the judge said.
“It was the wrong order.”
“That is not for you to decide. You took an oath to always follow the orders of your leaders. Three warriors died because you did not. Do you have anything else to say with regard to the charges?”
Tears pricked her eyes. There was no miracle coming. She didn’t know what she expected—understanding? Not about the Ruined. Not when Olivia had just burned down a good portion of the castle and killed the royal family.
She peeked at August. The only thing that could possibly save her was a pardon from him.
He stared back at her. His gaze was steely, his eyes dark with the evidence of little sleep. He didn’t even look angry, just . . . empty. Like he couldn’t even bring himself to care. He would not help her.
“They were supposed to be our allies,” she said quietly, turning away from August. She cleared her throat so the whole room could hear. “You sent me there to help them, and then you punish me when I do.”
“Your loyalty should always be to us, not to them.” The judge pushed some papers aside. “I’ve heard all I need to hear.”
“No you have not!” A familiar voice rang through the courtroom. Iria turned with a start to find Bethania standing among the seated crowd, fists clenched. She was so angry that her wild dark curls were practically vibrating. Iria knew the stance well. Bethania was always clenching her fists in the year she and Iria had dated—they’d driven each other crazy.
“Quiet, please,” the judge said.
“She served the warriors loyally for years,” Bethania shouted. Iria had been a warrior for only four short years, but Bethania was prone to exaggeration. “You sent her on impossible assignments, ask her to make friends of the Ruined, and then punish her when she does just that? What kind of person would have stood by while their friend was murdered?”
“Will someone escort her from the courtroom, please?” the judge asked, pinching his brow with two fingers.
Two guards grabbed Bethania’s arms and began dragging her to the doors. She struggled against them.
“You’re as bad as Lera if you do this!” she shouted. “You’re cowards!” The guards pulled her out the door, her shouts fading as they dragged her away.
Iria rubbed her wet cheek against her shoulder. Given the stony stares of the rest of the courtroom, there were not many who agreed with Bethania. Even her parents just stood there silently.
“Iria Ubino, I find you guilty on all three charges,” the judge said. “You will serve a lifetime sentence at Central Olso Prison.” He glared at where Bethania had disappeared. “I would just like to point out that if you were charged with this crime in Lera, you would be sentenced to death. You should count yourself lucky to be a citizen of Olso, and I hope you will take this time to reflect on your crimes.”
A few people clapped. The sound rang in Iria’s ears as she ducked her head and closed her eyes.
“Let’s go, prisoner,” a guard barked.
She tried to hide her tears as they led her away.
SIX
CAS SPENT THE weeks after returning to the castle assessing the damage to the building. It wasn’t nearly as bad as it could have been—the warriors must have extinguished the flames not long after he escaped. A lot of cleaning and repainting had to be done, and several rooms needed to be completely refurnished.
The royal suite, his parents’ rooms, were apparently in perfect condition. He hadn’t gone in to confirm for himself.
“The maid staff would like to know if they should start cleaning the rooms,” Cas’s new secretary, Xavier, said. He stood in front of Cas’s desk, holding a paper and pen and looking at Cas like he didn’t know this question sent panic shooting up Cas’s spine.
“Um,” Cas said, and could almost hear his father’s annoyed sigh. He would be so disappointed in Cas in
almost every way, but he certainly wouldn’t like his uncommanding tone.
“They have one of the keys, but they weren’t sure if they should go in . . .” Xavier didn’t finish his sentence. He knew Cas had the other key.
“Let’s—” He cut himself off before saying wait. It was dumb to wait. He hoped that eventually Em would return; those rooms were supposed to be for the king and queen. He could at least have the suite cleared out and cleaned. He didn’t have to move in right away.
“Tomorrow,” he said, ignoring the burst of nerves in his stomach. “I will go through the rooms tonight, and the staff can clean them tomorrow. Ask them to box up all my parents’ belongings and put them in storage.”
Xavier nodded and wrote something on his paper.
“That’s all for today,” Cas said. “Have a good evening.”
“Thank you, Your Majesty.” Xavier bowed his head and walked out of the office.
Cas got up from his desk and followed Xavier out. Guards trailed behind him. He still wasn’t used to having guards follow him everywhere, and he hoped Galo would ease up a bit after they got settled.
He dropped by his room for the key, then went directly to one of the doors to the royal suite. “I’m going in by myself,” he said to the guards without turning around. He thought maybe he’d said it so he wouldn’t chicken out again.
He stuck the key in the lock and pushed open the door. He was entering through the sitting room that connected the king’s and queen’s suites, and it was darker and quieter than he’d ever seen before. The curtains were drawn, a tiny sliver of late-afternoon light dancing across the gray rug.
His parents hadn’t used the sitting room much, and it was as pristine as ever, a blanket neatly folded on the couch, the bright red chairs so stiff it appeared as though they were brand-new.
