Page 167 of The Trials of Ophelia

“Lyria,” I said, placing my hands on her shoulders and turning her toward me, “you and your team have ensured these plans are strong.”

“What if they’re not? What if I’m overlooking something and I fail?”

I fail, she’d said. Not we. Not this army. I.

As her frazzled stare jumped between me and the board of war gracing her table, pieces clicked into place in my mind.

“You’re afraid of failing.” I knew the answer because it was the one driven into my bones by our father. I knew the lie she’d feed me, too.

“What? No, I’m worried for our people and allies and—” I raised my brows at her, stepping back and crossing my arms. “All right, fine, Tolek, I am afraid of failing, are you happy?”

My arms fell to my sides. “Why would I be happy about that?”

“Because I admitted it and now you win.” Stress was turning her brutally honest. A harsh change from the sister who’d come to Damenal when I’d been captured, but I thought both sides of her were true.

“I win?” I echoed. I knew what she meant, but did she?

“Yes, you got me to admit I’m afraid of failing as the Master of Weapons and Warfare. Afraid I won’t live up to those who came before me and people will look back on this war as the greatest failure of the Mystique Warriors. Afraid everyone will die because of some mistake I did not foresee. Now, if you do not mind, I have to run over these plans again to ensure that doesn’t happen.”

She turned back to the table, her attention falling to her figures. I contemplated my next words. Maybe it wasn’t the right time, given I was about to leave and she was about to lead our army to battle, but if I didn’t speak up, she might be distracted out there.

I took a deep breath and asked a question I wouldn’t have been able to voice a few weeks ago: “Have you ever stopped to consider why you feel this way?”

Her big round eyes lifted to mine, but she didn’t straighten.

I tried again. “Have you ever stopped to consider why you feel this need to be perfect?”

And right there, behind her eyes that mirrored my own, a shoddily-healed wound cracked open.

“What do you mean?”

The tremor of her voice confirmed I’d been wrong all these years. Lyria was not effortlessly perfect as she’d appeared to my younger self. She did not revel in that flawlessness. It was an act she was forced to uphold.

Fucking Angels, if only I’d opened my eyes sooner. Maybe I would have understood why she truly showed up in Damenal for me instead of being confused the entire Sunquist Ball. We may have been bred to compete, but there was a side of her that loved me.

I sighed, leaning against the table. How much should I unveil?

“I think you know how Father treated me growing up.” I didn’t think she was aware of the physical abuse, but she understood the emotional and mental games he played. How he felt after our mother almost died. He’d worked his magic on her as well, though in a different way. “He made sure I knew my…value to our family. How little it was. Because of that, I’ve spent a lot of time hiding my faults. Thinking they would push others away. I still do, but I’m trying to see otherwise.”

Lyria sucked in a big breath, holding it for a moment. When she released it, her entire frame shrank. “His games made me believe perfection was the only option. The training exercises and implications that my value was in the rank I achieved for our family.” She huffed a laugh and waved a hand over the table. “It worked, I suppose.”

“It did not work if it beat you down,” I corrected her.

“During the last war…something happened.” Lyria’s hands shook as she twirled an Engrossian marker. “Or nearly happened. I—I messed up.”

My heart thudded, but I swallowed the fear her demeanor drew within me. Forced my voice to be steady when it appeared she couldn’t. “You don’t have to tell me the details.”

“I will.” She unfolded a story that made it really hard for me not to charge the Engrossian-Mindshaper line immediately. That anyone thought they could touch her…that she thought it was her own fault for making a reckless decision. Anger buzzed through my blood, but I shoved it down.

“I’m sorry, Ria.” I sighed. “Spirits, I’m so fucking sorry that happened, but it wasn’t an imperfection on your part. It was not because you aren’t a good enough fighter or not strong enough. Damien’s Spirit, you’re so fucking strong to be here today.” I waved a hand around the room at all she’d accomplished and built in the past few months. “You took a risk, yes, but what happened was a disgusting action of that warrior. And no one should ever have made you believe otherwise. I promise, I will be here for you for the rest of this war and beyond to remind you.”

As I should have been as her brother all these years.

“Thank you, Tolek. I’d be happy to have you here.” It was clear from her tone she didn’t want to discuss what happened anymore. She wanted me to know, to hold that secret with her, and then she wanted to continue on together. Her brow crinkled as she considered me. “You know, Father made me think you were a competitor.”

She said it as if this was the first time she was admitting it. Maybe the first time she was really realizing it.

“He made me think I’d never live up to you,” I confessed. “And then I saw you as a competitor, too. I wanted so badly to resent you for it, and I did for a while, but that felt like another flaw. To hate the perfect sister.” I tilted my head to each side. “It’s all very confusing.”

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