Page 63 of Mother of Death and Dawn

I had never seen such hatred across Caduan’s face. Such disgust.

“She deserved better,” he snarled.

The Blades grabbed him and started to drag him away. But Caduan refused to move, his face calm but shoulders heaving. My father seized the sword from beside his throne and whirled to Caduan—

“Look away,” Caduan whispered to me, urgently.

But how could I? How could I not watch?

Blood sprayed. The sun flashed against steel.

It was not Caduan who fell.

It was my father, as Orscheid leapt forward and cut his throat, wielding the little dagger I had given her long ago. Tears streamed down her face. “Youkilledher—” she choked out, her voice gurgling slightly.

And then, seconds later, she collapsed—as my father buried his sword through her delicate form in his final burst of strength.

I let out a strangled sound, stumbling forward. Caduan caught my arm. It was the only thing that kept me from falling through a crack in the floor.

In the past, Caduan broke free from the stunned Blades who held him and ran to Orscheid’s side. My father died without a final word, hatred on his face. How easily he discarded his love even for his favorite, perfect daughter.

Orscheid was such a delicate creature. She fell like a handful of flower petals. My mother wept. Caduan tried to stop her bleeding, tried to mend the wound, silent in utter concentration. Her blood and my father’s ran down the stairs together.

The image froze. Wavered. Faded.

“I tried to save her,” Caduan murmured. His voice felt too real, too close, compared to the memory.

“Her life was worth too much to die alongside him.” Why was my voice so strange? It cracked over the words. “Why would she— how could she—”

Orscheid didn’t know how to fight, save for the few simple movements I had once taught her. Surprise alone allowed her to land her strike on my father, but she did not have the skill to evade his vengeful last act.

“You would have killed him,” I whispered. “She did not need to…to…”

“I would have. I came here to do it.”

Needless. So needless.

“And my… my mother?”

“She lives, though she does not know that you do. If you would like to see her, I—”

“No. Never.” My eyes fell to my mother’s face, contorted in agony, as she sank to her knees beside my sister. She had failed to fight for me. Failed to fight for Orscheid. I never wanted to see her again.

Slowly, the image of Caduan leaning over my dying sister faded, leaving nothing but a broken throne and dried blood.

“I was too late,” Caduan said. “Your father’s order had already been placed. He had launched his invasions against the House of Wayward Winds and their allies. The ensuing war destroyed all of the remaining Fey houses over the next two hundred years. For centuries, I regretted it. If I had gotten there two hours earlier, so much could have been different.”

For a moment, I hated him for it, too.

“But there is only so much I can blame your father for what happened then. It was too easy to turn us against each other. One nudge, and we devoured ourselves. We weren’t strong enough. I would often think of you and how different the world would have been if you had been allowed to assume your position. You would have been an incredible leader, Aefe.”

I did not believe him. And yet, still, I could almost imagine myself differently, as seen through his eyes.

“I did not bring you here to use you,” he murmured. “I did not bring you here to be a weapon. There were no lies in what you said to me yesterday. You never were given the opportunity to be more. And I have witnessed many injustices in six hundred years. But that, Aefe, is one of the greatest.”

Injustice. Is that what it was? Could a single word encapsulate everything that had been taken from me, inflicted upon me, beaten into me?

Caduan put his hands over mine. I was shaking.

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