bound hands up to his heart. He tapped his fist against his chest twice in the official Ruina salute to the queen.
The guard raised his sword.
Aren lowered his forehead onto her shoulder, whispering, “I can’t look.” She could barely hear him through the blood rushing in her ears.
“For the crime of murder and treason, the kingdom of Lera sentences you to death,” Em heard the king say. “May the ancestors see something in you that we did not.”
The king nodded at the guard holding the sword. He lifted it into the air, hesitating for a moment as he found his mark.
The blade crashed down.
NINETEEN
“HE WOULD BE an excellent leader, Emelina.”
Em looked up at her mother, then through the open window to where Damian stood outside. He ducked suddenly, barely missing the ball Olivia threw dangerously close to his head.
“Oops,” Olivia said with a giggle. Her long, dark hair was pulled tight in a ponytail, and it swung back and forth as she bounced on her heels, extending her hand as she waited for the ball to return.
“I guess,” Em said to her mother, turning her attention back to her book. “If Olivia likes him.”
“I meant for you.”
Em looked up, surprised. Wenda Flores stood with her back to the bookshelves, the red, green, and black spines extending far over her head, almost all the way to the ceiling.
She cocked one thin eyebrow at her daughter. “He likes you. I’m sure you’ve noticed.”
“He’s too powerful to marry someone useless,” Em said with a hint of bitterness.
“Just because your Ruined power never manifested doesn’t mean you won’t pass it to your children. You’re still a royal. You’ll lead the Ruined, and he belongs in that position with you.”
“Olivia will lead, not me.”
“You will be your sister’s most important adviser. You’ll have almost as much influence over Ruina as she will.”
Em shrugged, glancing out at Damian again. He caught her eye and smiled. He wasn’t the worst choice. But she also didn’t look at him the way her mother looked at her father. Like the world would go up in flames if something happened to him.
“Em!” Olivia ran to the window, bracing her hands on either side of it. Her eyes were wide with excitement. “They caught another spy from Lera. They’re bringing him now!” She pointed past Damian, where a wagon and horses rolled toward the castle.
“That was fast,” Wenda said, the skirts of her red dress swishing across the floor as she walked to the door. “Have you been practicing, Olivia?”
“Every day,” Olivia said seriously.
“Good.” Wenda smiled at Em. “Your sister is going to take that man’s head clean off his body. Would you like to come watch?”
The memory slammed into Em’s brain just after waking. A sick feeling rolled through her stomach and she darted out of bed, gasping for air.
She’d forgotten that day. It had been shortly before Lera attacked, and the memory had faded in favor of the bigger, more horrifying events that followed.
Em had gone to watch. Olivia hadn’t been able to do it (though she did break the skin around his neck), so a guard had eventually stepped in with a sword. Em had looked away when it happened.
But she hadn’t wondered who he was. She couldn’t even remember his face now. If he was young or thin or if he had a beard. She remembered blood dripping down his neck. She remembered the screaming.
It hadn’t occurred to her at the time that he could have been someone’s Damian. Someone’s friend or husband or father.
She pushed her hands through her hair, tears welling in her eyes. Her room was too dark—the only light coming from the moon shining through the window—and the blackness brought images she didn’t want to see. Damian on his knees. Her mother’s smile.
She hastily pulled on a pair of pants and a loose white shirt. She walked through her rooms and into the hallway, avoiding a maid’s curious glance as she passed. She wasn’t sure what time it was, but the castle still murmured with noise.
Her feet took her to Cas’s rooms. She considered going to Aren, but something about that didn’t feel right. Aren wouldn’t understand this ache in her chest.
Cas answered the door only a few moments after she knocked. His shirt was rumpled and half-unbuttoned, though he didn’t look like he’d been asleep. He tossed his book onto the couch as he opened the door wider.
“Come in. Are you feeling all right? I came by earlier, but your maid said