A Queen of Gilded Horns (A River of Royal Blood #2) - Amanda Joy Page 0,121

give the command over to whichever one of us survives today.”

“While I’d have no trouble turning over command to Isadore, I cannot in good conscience give you the chance to tear through the Queendom, killing whoever you choose. I think not, Evalina.”

Do not rise to the bait. “Fine,” I said, crossing my arms. “Then simply swear not to interfere.”

“The nerve of you, a rebel and a traitor, making demands of me. You are lucky I am still giving you a chance to gain the throne.”

My hands curled into fists. “Did you think it luck when you were our age, being an only child? Not having a sister to kill?”

For once my words penetrated her icy calm. “I thought it unfortunate that I never had a chance to prove myself as you two do. I will grant your request. I swear no one will interfere.”

“My thanks.” I nodded and drew my sword. “Let’s get this over with, then.”

Mother whispered something in Isa’s ear before my sister stepped forward. Two of the long-handled knives Isa favored were strapped to her back.

She pulled both free in a smooth, graceful movement, tossing her hair behind her.

Sword gripped in one hand, sturdy belt knife in the other, I ran for Isa. Eyes slit, I fought to avoid her gaze as we clashed.

Sword to knife, steel to steel. Neither of us reached for any magick just yet. I could sense that Isa was as curious as I to see how we matched up now. She met my every strike, parrying my attacks with blistering speed.

She was so quick, seeming to know where I intended to strike before even I did. But eventually Isa began to slow and I took my opportunity when she lifted both arms in a head-on attack.

I raised my sword, gritting my teeth as I fought to hold back all the strength in her. With my belt knife, I stabbed her in the side, not a deep wound, but blood welled, spilling down the handle and onto my hand.

Isa hissed, baring her teeth as she backed away.

I swiped the flat side of the blade across my forearm, leaving a smear of blood right over the tattoo of arrows. I dropped my belt knife as the quiver full of blood-magick arrows appeared in my hand. Lowering my sword to the ground, I smiled.

“Wait,” Isa said, gasping to catch her breath. She hoisted both knives again, crossed in front of her like a shield.

But it was too late. I had already sent an arrow flying straight for her heart. It pierced her chest, disappearing into her skin in a spray of deep crimson. Heart’s blood.

Isa’s knives slid from her hands as she fell, face-first, into the snow.

* * *

Blood pooled around Isa’s fallen body.

A roaring noise filled my ears as I stared at her splayed limbs, but as the sound of a high-pitched keen filled my ears, I remembered my true purpose.

Mother, skirts gathered in one fist, ran to Isa’s side, kneeling in the spreading blood. She laid two fingers against Isa’s neck, checking for a pulse. Finding none, she glared up at me.

It didn’t occur to me until that moment that I had never seen my mother in a true fury. She kept such a tight leash on her emotions; I was familiar enough with her rage when stifled.

“You,” she shouted, tears streaking her face. “You cursed nightmare. If only I hadn’t failed to kill you when I had the chance.”

As if her words were daggers, I stumbled back, struck. “No. No.”

“You never once suspected. Both of my daughters, too trusting for their own good. You aren’t fool enough to think I will let you take the throne, are you?”

She sucked in a deep breath, reaching for the sky. The clouds swirled and thunder cracked, the mountain seeming to vibrate underfoot.

“You really did kill him,” I whispered, shaking.

She climbed to her feet. “It’s no more than he deserved. If only those Dracolans had struck when you two were together.”

The howls of a dozen wolves reached my ears, and for a moment, relief coursed through me. I wasn’t alone.

But as I looked behind me, the first bolt of Mother’s lightning struck the ground where the wolves gathered around Baccha. Squeals and cries of pain filled the air.

I dove backward as another bolt struck the ground a mere hand’s width from where I stood.

Hail began to fall and the squall surrounding Mother left her hovering inches above the ground. If this continued, she might bring