And her hidden wish.
To be acknowledged, for her life, her suffering. As Thelaema had, with her apology. To be seen, finally. To matter, to someone. To be more than just a lowly beggar, for once.
Now, as the Scion, as Empress, she would have those things.
But before all that, Thierre had been there. And despite how things had ended, that honour would always be his. He had seen her, and while he had lied about his own truths, he had not shied away from her own. He had helped her, and she valued that.
An idea started to take shape in Cahra’s mind.
Meanwhile, King Royce had fixed his stare on Commander Tyne, who vehemently shook his head as the King replied to his wife, ‘There is but one thing more valuable than a Luminaux Prince.’ Royce stood quietly. ‘A King.’ Queen Avenais burst into tears anew. ‘Tyne. Offer them a trade.’
Cahra stepped from the back of the room, Thelaema’s sharp gaze slicing into hers.
There is value in helping others.
Thelaema’s spitfire words pierced Cahra’s mind:Do NOT even finish that thought.
But Cahra knew. When Hael had told her of the unimaginable, the inconceivable – that she was an Empress – her first thought had been Thierre. That it should have been him, that he would have known exactly what to do. That he’d spent his life training to be King and knew what all of this required. One day, Thierre would rule Luminaux, and that role was something he’d been groomed for since birth. Not Cahra; she wasn’t a leader, not even close. Regardless of the Key or the capital or the weapon,Thierrewas the smart choice, whereas she didn’t have a clue. Until now, that is, she thought.
She didn’t need training to know her next words were the right ones.
‘You’re wrong,’ Cahra told King Royce. ‘There’s something even more valuable.’ She looked around Luminaux’s den of war, knowing once she spoke the words out loud, she could never take them back again.
Good. Maybe if I do this, I can save a life, instead of destroying one.
And that life would be Thierre’s.
Thelaema, like Tyne, shook her head, the Oracle’s eyes shooting daggers:Cahraelia – Cahra! DON’T!
A sense of resolution washed over her. Cahra turned to King Royce, her voice steady.This is how I help.With newfound determination, she locked eyes with Thierre’s father.
Taking a deep breath, Cahra said, ‘An Empress trumps a King.’
CHAPTER 34
Cahra stood in the wake of her decision, bracing for the inevitable backlash.
Sure enough, Thelaema’s composure shattered on impact. ‘That is, with certainty, the most ridiculous sentence that anyone has ever uttered. Youcannotbe serious!’
‘Can’t I?’ Cahra challenged her, looking around Luminaux’s den of war.
Wyldaern met her with empathy. ‘I grasp your motivations, truly I do.’
The numbness that had been Cahra’s saviour all these years, that had kept her standing at the thought of Thierre being tortured, finally threatened to buckle beneath her emotions. Cahra gritted her teeth at the pain that needled her body.
‘Yet it is precisely as you said,’ Wyldaern went on. ‘An Empress trumps a King and a Prince. Your safety must come before Thierre’s.’ Her friend’s tone was pleading.
‘Why?’ Cahra fired the question at the Seers. ‘Because you say so? Because it’s my “destiny”? Because I have no choice? Let me tell you about choice,’ Cahra argued fiercely. ‘I have never had a choice in my life. And now you’re telling me I’m finally in a position to make a choice that really counts – except I can’t? What good is this stupid birthright then?’ She spun to Sylvie. ‘What would Thierre do if our roles were reversed?’
Luminaux’s General stood, the waves of her black hair stark against her blue finery. Sylvie’s eyes – Thierre’s eyes – cut to her father’s.
‘He would volunteer himself. And if you said no, he’d simply break free of the palace.’
Despite everything, Raiden chuckled sadly.
Cahra faced him, then Sylvie. ‘Exactly.’ She turned to Thelaema, warning her, ‘This is not up for discussion.’
Thelaema’s amethyst eyes hardened into violet chips of ice. ‘Ifwe were to suffer this idiotic half-notion,’ she snapped, ‘what precisely is your plan? Apart from giving yourself over to the rulers inciting the deaths of your realmsmen at every turn?’