by Bree Barton
She wasn’t sure how long she spent hunched on the window seat. Enough time to replay every moment she’d ever shared with Quin, every smile, every maddening fight. They’d spent two weeks in each other’s company. Hardly that, even. Half the time they’d been running for their lives. The other half they were careening toward their own doom, though they didn’t know it.
Two weeks. A laughably tiny sliver in the grand scheme. Not enough time to even know another person, let alone love them.
“Are you all right?”
She gave a start. Zai stood quietly in the corridor.
“How long have you been there?”
“A little while.”
Seeing him standing there so still and respectful made her want to cry.
“What are you doing here, Zai? Shouldn’t you be headed back to your alehouse?”
“Freyja said I could stay for the Illuminations. We’ll be up on the northern balcony. You can join us, if you like.”
Mia forced herself up off the window seat. She couldn’t feel the soreness in her muscles; only when she stumbled forward did she realize how stiff they were.
Zai reached out to catch her, but she straightened.
“The queen has visitors,” she said. “I’m going to see them.”
“You mean Quin?”
An inscrutable expression flickered over Zai’s face. Sadness? Disappointment? She didn’t ask. Now that Quin was here, any dalliance she’d had with Zai—or with any of the boys she’d met in White Lagoon—suddenly seemed empty.
“Yes,” she said. “I mean Quin.”
He nodded, as if he’d expected it. “I saw him in the music room.”
Zai led Mia down one winding white palace corridor after another until piano music wafted down the halls, haunting and deep.
It had to be Quin. The song reminded her of the one he’d played in the castle the night before their ill-fated wedding. This melody was different—sadder—but boasted the same elegance.
Zai stopped in front of a pair of frosted glass doors.
“The music room,” he said.
Mia stood to the side of the glass, suddenly nervous. What would she say to Quin? How to explain that, yes, she’d been alive all this time . . . but she hadn’t come back for him?
“Anything else I can do for you?” Zai said curtly.
She searched his face, trying to tell if he was angry or simply hurt. But his eyes were hard. Inscrutable.
“No. I . . .” The words wilted before they reached her mouth. “Thank you for everything.”
Without a word, he turned on his heel and hurried down the hall.
Mia couldn’t waste time worrying about Zai. She edged closer to the doors, peering through the frosted glass. She saw two people in a white room. One standing, one sitting. Mia waited, pulse pounding in her ears. When the song came to an end, she put her hands on the glass handles and pushed.
The doors swung open too softly for anyone to notice. No sooner had Mia stepped into the room than the melody started up again. This time, there were two instruments instead of one.
In the quiet torchlight, she found herself staring at a cream-colored piano with Quin at the bench. He was angled away from her, facing the large window, but she’d know him anywhere. At his side was the dark-haired girl, horsehair bow clasped lightly in her fingers. She had a white violin tucked beneath her chin.
They were playing a duet.
Mia couldn’t see Quin’s hands, but she could see the girl’s. The torchlight made the violin look almost wet, the bow sailing over the strings like ripples on the sea.
Mia stood in the doorway, transfixed by the music. The notes laced themselves together, one instrument blending exquisitely into the other, like two voices in perfect harmony. Even Quin’s song in the library at Kaer Killian couldn’t compete. He was far better with this girl than he was alone.
He said something Mia couldn’t hear. The girl tipped back her head and laughed. Mia saw her face.
Pilar d’Aqila.
Mia’s failed assassin. Daughter of Zaga, the woman who had loved Mia’s mother, corrupted her sister, and betrayed the Dujia—including Pilar herself.
Pilar saw Mia, too.
The violin dropped from her hands, clattering to the marble floor.
“Shit.”
The music ceased abruptly as Quin pivoted on the bench.
“Mia?” A question.
“Quin.”
All the shock Mia expected to see on his face materialized on Pilar’s instead. Her olive skin had drained of color, now more gray than gold. Pilar stepped toward her, then stopped, as if she didn’t know whether to move forward or back.
“How in four hells are you here, Rose? You’re supposed to be dead.”
Mia didn’t answer. She was watching Quin. His eyes didn’t leave hers, even as he reached into his jacket and extracted a piece of yellow parchment folded crisply into thirds. He shook out the creases with one sharp flick.
“Now that I have you both together,” he began.
Pilar wheeled around, hands balled into fists. “What did you just say?”
Mia didn’t understand what was happening.
“Quin?” she said again, hating how plaintive her voice sounded. She took an uneasy step forward. “Aren’t you surprised to see me?”
“I’m happy to see you, Mia.” He stood from the piano bench. “But no. I’m not surprised.”
Pilar looked like she was ready to shove his face through the window. “What the fuck is going on?”
“I promise, this will explain everything.” Quin flourished the letter. “But it’s rather long. Why don’t you two take a seat? Get comfortable?”
Neither of them sat.
“Very well.” He cleared his throat. “Let me tell you a story.”
Quin began to read.
The Night of the Weeping Moon
Pilar, my fearless warrior. Mia, my tireless wonderer.
My lovelies, my darlings, my elder sisters. Reunited at last.
Did you know you were bound by blood? When you first met in Refúj, could you feel it? When I first summoned you to the river kingdom, Pilar d’Aqila, and commanded you to lodge an arrow in my sister’s heart, I never imagined that you, too, were my sister. Zaga failed to share this little detail, as she failed to share so many others.
A love affair before a love affair: our father enthralled by your mother, Pil, before he was enthralled by ours. Who would have taken Griffin Rose for such a lady-killer? But then I suppose he’s been killing ladies all along.
I knew you weren’t dead, Mi. As much as you claimed you’d do anything to protect me, you always chose yourself in the end. Even now, haven’t you chosen your own welfare? You pretend to make noble sacrifices for others—to save your darling prince. But these are fictions you tell yourself. Though you went to Luumia under the pretense of saving Quin’s life, from the moment you woke in that box, what you truly wanted was to save your own.
I have always been more generous than you. I am not opposed to second chances. I saw, in those final moments, something in your eyes I’d never seen before: an admission of defeat. You knew you’d been wrong: about me, about magic, about everything. And so I resolved to help you.
It was I who ensured your body be safely carried out of the crypt of Kaer Killian. I who sent you into the forest with two stones: fojuen to stop your heart, and lloira to restore it. I who sent the prince to revive you.
Quin brought you back to life in that wooden box, Mia. But I made sure he was long gone before you emerged. I left the frostflower rune in your possession, knowing you’d take it as a sign from our mother. I knew you’d stop at nothing to find her, because this is how you are: like a dog with a bone. Relentless, even when all the meat is gone.
And I knew I’d be able to find you, when the time was right. That’s the thing about sending someone on a mission they think they’ve devised themselves: they go right to where you want them.
But you, Pilar.
You were always more unpredictable. One night I got your mother drunk on blackthorn wine and made her tell me everything about the circumstances of your conception. I knew then I’d found the sister I always wanted. The sister I deserved. My sister the warrior, who would gallop into battle alongside me and her fellow Dujia, righting the wrongs of this broken land.
I awoke the next morning to a rotten headache and even more rotten news: Pilar d’Aqila had run away. You’d left me alone in the castle with your mother, who in a way became mine.
I must be honest: Zaga was unperturbed by your escape. But I was heartbroken. My whole life, I’d dreamed of a sister like you, only to have you ripped from my arms the very moment I found you.
And then an idea occurred to me. I knew you’d be looking for your father, based on the lies your mother had told you, lies mingled with truths. If you journeyed to the snow kingdom, I realized I might be able to gather both my sisters in one place. I didn’t have to lift a finger or send any of my men: I could let you ferry yourself to our rendezvous point. But I needed someone to accompany you, someone who could ensure you were headed in the right direction.
Someone like my husband.
Quin was to stay by your side every step of the way. If he was successful—if he is speaking these words to you both right now—then he fulfilled his duty. Do not be angry with him. He has cared for you both, has he not? In a way only he can do. And finally, after all this time, you are together in the Snow Queen’s palace. All that’s missing from this equation, my sisters, is me.
Pilar, I know you hate lying. From this day forth I swear to always tell you the truth. And so I must impart some heavy news: Zaga is dead. I killed her without ever touching her skin.
If I thought her loss would wound you gravely, I would wrap my arms around you and wipe the tears from your cheeks. But you know as well as I do she never loved either of us as a mother should. Zaga only loved herself. She wasn’t there when you needed her the most.
I will not abandon you. I believe you. I will fight beside you in every battle, now and always.
Mia, you are either for us or against us. I hope you will fight beside your sisters. You have made many mistakes: now is your time to correct them. The Dujia of the river kingdom are hungry for the reign of their new queens. The Dujia of every kingdom cry out for a better tomorrow. And they deserve one.
You both failed to see me as I am. One of you wanted to save me; the other, to destroy me. Make no mistake: I could enkindle each of you with a snap of my fingers. It would be easy to make you want what I want. But I want you to choose it. As you once told me, Mi: if I were strong, I wouldn’t need to enkindle people to make them follow me. I assure you, I am stronger than you think.
The veil has been lifted from my eyes. You’ve both been clinging to the old world. Old rules, old grievances, old revenge. Mia, you’ve been searching for Mother. Pilar, you’ve been searching for Father. You both thought you could find your family—that this would be the magic elixir to fix your broken hearts.
But the old world is dead. Our parents have failed us; they betrayed and abandoned us, fed us lies and hate. They tried to break us, but we will not be so easily broken. We are all that’s left.
You are together at last. You have found one another. And soon I will find you, too. But first there is something I must do.
Good Jyöl, my sweet sisters. The Illuminations are starting soon. Meet me where the darkest night sparks the brightest dawn.
Your littlest,
Angelyne
Chapter 43
One Last Mistake
PILAR BARELY WAITED FOR Quin to finish before she ripped the letter from his hands. Shredded it. Shoved the scraps into one of the torches, singeing her fingertips. Not that it mattered. She would have ignited the whole palace if she could have. Quin included.
Her mother, dead. A few lines in a letter and that was it: scraped off the earth like a scab off a knee.
Pilar thought she’d feel happy, or at least satisfied. But mostly she felt angry. Not that Angelyne had killed her mother—that she hadn’t gotten to do it herself.
Zaga was dead, and Mia Rose wasn’t.
Dead didn’t amount to much these days.
Pilar was still reeling from the other letters. She didn’t want to accept that Griffin Rose was her father, or that she’d inherited two half sisters: one dead, one deranged. In the midst of her whole world caving in, Quin was the one good and steady thing. But he’d been lying to her. Even after he’d sworn he wasn’t. Even after she’d sworn never to trust him again. With or without the moonstone, he was still Angie’s little errand boy.
“So this—everything, you and me—was all a lie.”
He shifted his weight. If she had to hear him clear his throat one more time, she would clear it for him. With her fist.
“Pil,” he said. “You know that isn’t true.”
“Answer the question.”
Silence.
“To be fair,” said Mia Rose quietly, “you didn’t technically ask a question.”
Pilar glared at her. None of this was Mia’s fault—she knew that. But if the girl was going to go around rising from the grave, she could at least keep her mouth shut.
“Sisters,” Mia whispered, more to herself than anyone.
“Oh that? Your father and my mother?” Pilar shrugged. “That’s old news.”
She was posturing. The news wasn’t that old. She’d spent the last two days on the ship from Kom’Addi, ranting endlessly to Quin. No shortage of things to rant about. Pilar had raged, cursed, even gotten a little teary one night after too many nips of vaalkä. She’d cried on Quin’s shoulder about how much she used to want a sister. Someone to play with. As she got older, someone to talk with. And after everything with Orry: someone to stand beside her. To believe.
But Pilar wanted nothing to do with Angelyne Rose. She hated that they shared even a drop of the same blood. Same with Griffin. All those wasted years dreaming about meeting her father. Now that she finally had, she couldn’t stand to look at him.
Quin had been a good sport as her moods slingshot wildly. That was the thing about Quin: he was always a good sport.
A good, lying, backstabbing sport.
“I did destroy the moonstone,” he said quietly. “But Angelyne is stronger now. Her magic goes deeper. Once she buries an idea in my head, I can never be free of it—not until I do what she asks. But then, sometimes . . .” He groped for the words. “Sometimes what she wants is what I want, too.”
He turned to Mia. “I woke you up because I didn’t have a choice. But I was also glad to do it. I thought you died in the crypt. When your sister told me we could bring you back, I didn’t hesitate for a second.”
He turned back to Pilar. “And I really was trying to escape. I thought, if you were strong enough to fight the enkindling, maybe I could fight the enthrall. But she caught me and told me to follow you. At first I only did it because it’s what she wanted. And then, the more time we spent together, the more I got to know you—”
“How many times are we going to have this conversation?” Pilar spat. “What we did in the tavern? On the ship? Was that fake, too?”
Whenever she wasn’t ranting, she and Quin had spent the last two days exploring each other’s bodies. They fit well together: their hands, their lips. Other parts, too. She told him how and where to touch her, and he was happy to oblige.
Knowing that he’d betrayed her—that even with their bodies tangled up together, he was steering her somewhere without her knowledge or consent—knocked her right back to Orry’s cottage. Hard dirt floor. Wooden rafters. Her fight teacher crushing her with his weight.
Quin let out his breath.
“Just because I want what she wants doesn’t mean I don’t also want things for myself.” He tugged his hand through his curls. “It’s hard to explain. But she never told me how to feel about you. That was real.”
He grew quieter. “This is the first time I’m reading the le
tter, too. I had no idea about your mother. I know your relationship was fraught, but even so: I’m sorry.”
Pilar shoved the sentiment away. Forced a laugh. “Who cares about my mother? I have two sisters and a father now! What a celebration.”
She turned on Mia. “How about you? Angelyne enkindling you, too? Anyone left in all four kingdoms who’s not being controlled by your twisted little sister?”
Mia hesitated. “I suppose she’s our twisted little sister.”
Our sister. Like it was that easy. A stack of melodramatic letters and suddenly they were all one big happy murderous family.
“We still might be able to stop her, Pilar,” Mia said. “If we use our magic to bring the elements back into bal—”
“I don’t do magic anymore,” Pilar said, cutting her off. “I’m done hurting innocent people.”
She spun back around on Quin. “Anything else you’d like to tell me, Killian? Before I walk out of this room and never speak to you again?”
“I’m sorry, Pilar. You have to believe me—at least about that.”
She could see it in his eyes, the sorry. But it didn’t soothe. It burned.
“And I never would have hurt you,” he added.
“What makes you think you haven’t?” she volleyed back. “You think all wounds show on the skin? I’m sure you wouldn’t have hesitated to slice my head off my neck, either, if that’s what Angie wanted.”
He shook his head. “She wanted you both here, together, for Jyöl. She swore on the Duj she wouldn’t let any harm come to you.”
“How comforting,” Pilar sneered, “from the girl who’s a raving lunatic.”
“All I know is that this was the last task Angelyne gave me. My job was to ensure you both made it to the snow palace, safe in body and in spirit. Now I’m free.”
Pilar snorted. “I’ve spent the last month of my life with you, and you’ve lied to me for the last time.”
She wheeled around, then wheeled back, remembering.