Page 156 of Crown of Darkness
“Stop,” I repeat, my hand pressed against his chest. “Let me talk to her. She wouldn’t be here if she didn’t have something important to say to me.”
And I have something to say toher.
Every inch of him trembles, and he slowly lowers his head, his fingers curling into fists. “Make it quick.”
Andraste’s mouth forms a little O of horror. “It’s true.”
“That you betrayed us?” I shake my head. “I fall for it every time—”
“I didn’t betray you.”
“Really? We stole inside the castle but the crownwasn’tthere! She knew we were coming. She knew and—”
“It wasn’t there,” Andraste snaps, “becauseItook it.” Brushing her cloak aside, she unties something from her hip and holds it in her gloved hand. “I was going slip away to the Hallow and send it through to you while she was distracted.”
The crown.
Mother’s crown.
It has no gemstones. Nor is it merely decorative. Seven sharp prongs stab away from a circlet of heavy gold, and as the light flickers over it, it feels as though something malevolent within the crown stares back.
“Here,” she says, shoving it into my hands. “Take it.”
“Why would you do this?”
She knows the consequences of betraying Mother. It was one thing to protect me at Briar Keep. Another to steal from our mother—and to deliberately sabotage the queen’s plans.
Because while I didn’t set that fire, there’s only one other fae in the court who has the power to wield such flames. Fire runs through the Asturian matriarchal bloodline, and while it’s one of the few fae gifts I can access, my sister wields it like a whip.
Andraste curls my fingers around the crown. “Take it. I can hear it whispering to me. Just take it. And get out of here. She’s had the Hallows surrounded both here and at Briar Keep. She expects you to flee in that direction.”
“But why?”
Her gloved hands are warm beneath mine as I take the crown.
I don’t know if I imagine it, but there’s a little shiver through my veins, as if some sort of power leaches through my skin. It’s the crown.
“Because….”
“Because?”
“Because I am sorry. Because I can never take back any of my actions, my lies. And because….” Andraste looks at me with eyes wet with guilt. She shoots a glance over my shoulder toward Thiago and then presses something into my hand. “I don’t want you to lose your child.”
A little curl of paper.
“What are you trying to—?”
“Read it when you are safe,” she says, shoving me toward Thiago. “Read it and know this: I am sorry. And I do not ask for forgiveness, only for understanding. I have tried to protect you as best I could. As I have tried to protecther. And I thought my silence was the best protection I could offer, for there are eyes and ears in every inch of this court. I did not dare reach out to tell you.”
“To tell me what?”
Guilt darkens her eyes, but then another explosion of flame is set off nearby. My head whips toward the west. Toward the armory.
“Go,” Andraste tells me. “I’ll try and distract the guards.”
Thiago hauls me into the trees, but I pause at the edge of the clearing and look back.
“Goodbye,” Andraste mouths, and a chill runs through me, because this time, I feel as though it’s forever.
