were supposed to be afraid. Obedient. Now I see there is no educating your kind. You maggots all crave the disease tainting your blood.”
“You could’ve taken magic away without killing us. Without beating our bodies into the ground!”
He jumps as I pull against my chains, wild like a rabid lionaire. I itch to unleash magic fueled by the blackest part of my rage. A rage born because of everything he took away.
A new searing burns my flesh as I fight the majacite, doing everything I can to call forth my magic despite the power of the black chains. Smoke sizzles from my skin as I fight in vain.
Saran’s eyes narrow, but I can’t be silent. Not when my blood boils and my muscles shake to break free.
I will not let my fear silence the truth.
“You crushed us to build your monarchy on the backs of our blood and bone. Your mistake wasn’t keeping us alive. It was thinking we’d never fight back!”
Inan steps forward, jaw taut, eyes traveling back and forth between us. The fury in Saran’s gaze flares as he lets out a long, low chuckle.
“You know what intrigues me about your kind? You always start in the middle of the story. As if my father didn’t fight for your rights. As if you maggots didn’t burn my family alive.”
“You can’t enslave an entire people for the rebellion of a few.”
Saran bares his teeth. “You can do whatever you want when you’re the king.”
“Your ignorance will be your downfall.” I spit in Saran’s face. “Magic or not, we won’t give up. Magic or not, we will take back what’s ours!”
Saran’s lips curl back in a snarl. “Brave words for a maggot about to die.”
Maggot.
Like Mama.
Like every brother and sister slaughtered by his command.
“You’d be wise to kill me now,” I whisper. “Because you’re not getting any of the artifacts.”
Saran smiles slow and sinister like a jungle cat.
“Oh, child.” He laughs. “I wouldn’t be so sure of that.”
CHAPTER SIXTY-FOUR
INAN
THE WALLS OF THE CELLAR close in. I’m trapped in this hell. It takes everything in me to stand, not to buckle under Father’s glare. But while I can barely breathe, Zélie rises. Defiant and fiery as ever.
No regard for her life.
No fear for her death.
Stop, I want to scream over her. Don’t talk!
With each word, Father’s desire to break her grows.
He pounds against the door. With two sharp knocks, the metal door flies open. The fortress physician walks in, flanked by three lieutenants; all fix their gazes on the floor.
“What’s going on?” My voice comes out hoarse. It’s hard to speak through the strain of suppressing my magic once more. Sweat pours down my skin as another blast of heated air funnels through the vent.
The physician glances at me. “Does Your Highness—”
“You’re under my orders,” Father interrupts. “Not his.”
The physician scurries forward, drawing a sharp knife from his pocket. I stifle a cry as he slices into Zélie’s neck.
“What’re you doing?” I yell. Zélie grits her teeth as the physician digs with his blade.
“Stop!” I shout in panic. Not now. Not here.
I start forward, but Father presses his hand into my shoulder so hard I nearly stumble. I watch in horror as the physician cuts a shallow X into Zélie’s neck. With an unsteady hand, he pushes a thick, hollowed-out needle into the exposed vein.
Zélie tries to jerk her head back, but a lieutenant holds it still. The physician removes a small vial of black liquid and prepares to pour the serum down the needle.
“Father, is this wise?” I turn to him. “She knows things. There are more artifacts. She can find them. She’s the only person who understands the scroll—”
“Enough!” Father’s grip on my shoulder tightens until it aches. I’m angering him now. If I keep going, he’ll only cause Zélie more pain.
The physician looks back at me, as if looking for a reason to stop. But when Father pounds his fist against the wall, the physician pours the serum through an opening in the hollow needle, feeding it straight into her vein.
Zélie’s body jerks and spasms. The serum releases under her skin. Her breaths go short and rapid. Her pupils grow large and dilated.
My own chest tightens as blood pounds inside my head.
And it’s only an echo of what they’re doing to her.…
“Don’t worry.” Father speaks, mistaking my grief for disappointment. “One way or another, she’ll tell us what she knows.”
Zélie’s muscles seize, rattling the chains. I press against the wall as my own thighs shake. I struggle to