“Why?” The word was an icy blade, cold as condemnation.
Tirael glared, eyes sparking with fury. She spat blood before answering. “You dare to ask me that?”
“This is your only chance to speak some last words, but if you prefer not to offer anything to posterity, that’s fine with me. Your execution will provide me great satisfaction.”
“I suppose it would,” Tirael said. “But then, you’ll also have to live with knowing that you murdered your closest kin. Sister.”
Raff sucked in a breath as Thalia staggered. That was the only sign of her shock and she recovered swiftly. “Lies.”
“But it’s not, dear sister. Run the necessary lineage tests, if you wish. Our father betrayed you, installed me at your side and called me ‘cousin’ when the truth is, my mother poisoned yours and afterward, once she was caught, I had to see her head on a pike for countless weeks, watch as the birds ate her pretty face and pecked out her eyes.”
“Then—”
“Everything you believe about yourself is a lie. You’re not better suited to be queen, not more destined. Certainly not more royal or more worthy. You’re just lucky, princess. Even now, you have animals at your back, willing to kill on your command. And this, the Eldritch will remember. I promise, your reign will not be peaceful…or long.”
21.
There was no immediate way to know if Tirael’s claim was true, as DNA testing would take a couple of hours. Even if it was, Thalia would execute her half-sister the same as any traitor. Instead of responding to the furious taunt, she ripped the woman’s filthy sleeve and gagged her with it.
This victory was too hard-won for Thalia to allow it to be tainted. She hoped that most surviving soldiers hadn’t overheard about Tirael and Thalia’s kinship, and now they never would. For a moment, Thalia knelt beside the woman who’d claimed to be her sister, trying not to remember confiding in Tirael and asking for her help, like after they discovered the poisoned wine at the wedding feast.
Would Lileth have lived if someone else had summoned help? Eliciting that truth from Dr. Wyeth might push Thalia over the edge, so she decided to staunch that awful curiosity. It required complete self-restraint not to choke the life out of this treacherous bitch at once.
Thalia whispered, “You’re in no position to make threats or promises. The victor decides on their version of the truth, and in my story, you’re nobody, a failure just like your mother. But don’t worry. You’ll see her soon.”
Tirael’s eyes blazed with liquid loathing, but she was bound too tightly to react otherwise. Straightening, Thalia scowled at Ferith, who had struggled to the top of the walls despite a grievously injured leg. “You’re supposed to be with Dr. Wyeth,” she snapped.
The Noxblade shook her head. “Later, once this is finished.”
Thalia knew better than to argue. Even if Ferith was bleeding out, she wouldn’t stand for being locked out of dealing with a traitor. It had to cut deep, as Tirael had been her second-in-command, secretly scheming against them both. Accepting the inevitable, she said, “Send someone for my father’s sword.”
Largely ceremonial, the blade was too long for Thalia to use in battle. She’d trained on twin knives, perfectly balanced, but for some occasions, there was no substitute for the enormous weapon known as Lawbringer. The longsword had been in her family for almost a thousand years, the metal dull with age, its engravings stained with blood. By the way Tirael trembled, it seemed she understood what was to come.
When a young Eldritch rushed up with Lawbringer, he also had a wooden block, saving her the trouble of asking for one. Ferith came forward on her own and slammed Tirael’s head onto the square. Thalia raised the sword with both arms, conscious that she would need all her strength to make a clean cut. Though Lawbringer was preternaturally sharp, it still wasn’t easy to sever a neck clean through.
“For the capital crime of treason, you are sentenced to death. You’ve spoken your final remarks, so we only need to carry out that judgment now.”
Thalia sucked in a deep brace, raised the sword, and struck with all her might. Tirael’s head bounced away in a spray of red, and she fought against rising queasiness. So much blood. Daruvar might never be clean again. A ragged cheer rose from the Eldritch nearby, a keen, sharp victory call that spread among the survivors until the stones echoed with the chant. Her entire body ached, but Thalia responded, striding to the edge of the wall and raising Lawbringer overhead in a triumphant gesture.
She let the roaring go on for long, loud moments, then she signaled for silence. “Today, we won an important battle, but we also lost brothers and sisters who lost sight of our goals. Unity. Friendship. Life without prejudice. I’ll renew treaties with the Animari and the Golgoth, after we settle Ruark Gilbraith. Once I take his head, the other houses will follow me, and I hope we can move forward without more senseless bloodshed. There will be peace and prosperity ahead, if we fight for it.”
“My queen!” someone shouted.
At first, it was a lone voice in the crowd, but others took up the proclamation. “For our queen!” Until the fortress thundered with Eldritch approbation. Thalia hardly knew how to respond, but she lowered Lawbringer and acknowledged the clamor by posing with both hands on the longsword, bowing her head for a moment.
She couldn’t rest on her laurels, though. There was too much left to do. “All right, people. If you’re injured, prioritize amongst yourselves and see Dr. Wyeth. Those who are healthy, I need the bodies of our fallen in the courtyard. The traitors will be buried, not burned. Divide into teams and get order restored. Now!”
That broke the spell, sending the Eldritch scurrying. Thalia stepped back
