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The throne room.

Electricity zipped through her. This moment was what everything had been leading up to since she woke up from the sleeping curse. Slowly, Thicket stepped towards the door. Each step was a chance to harden her composure, gather more confidence, and build up whatever she could of her magic supplies. She knew that wasn’t how it worked, but it made her feel ready, made her feel like she was doing something to prepare.

It made her feel brave.

Thicket stopped before the throne room’s door. She swallowed—hard—as she rested her hand on one of the cool knobs. Turning it, walking through the doors, would change her life forever. Just like walking through the door in her dreams.

For better or for worse, things would be different. She could only do her best to shape the reality she wanted into existence.

Steeling her resolve, Thicket twisted the knob open. The door didn’t squeal on rusted hinges as it did in the horror movies. It merely glided open, a silent death.

Thicket forced her shoulders back and stepped inside. The throne room was vacant and cold. Or it would have been vacant if it weren’t for the malicious smile dancing atop curled lips.

“Welcome home, little Rose. Come to turn yourself in?”

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Thicket may have been a Princess and the chosen Queen of Vindrya, but standing before Lavender, she had never felt more like a child playing dress up. There was no doubt they were sisters with their oval shaped faces, small, delicate noses, and heart shaped lips. But that was where the similarities ended. Lavender was sheer, regal perfection as she sat on the silver throne, woven to look like a thicket of vines and flowers. Her gown draped over the sides, spilling out around her feet like dark purple ink. A raven conjured from fire colored the rich, familiar hue of astromeia perched on her shoulder, gazing at Thicket with eyes that appeared to see through her very soul.

And nestled on top of Lavender’s head was the stolen Queen’s crown. With it, her sister looked much more befitting of the title. She was as lethal as the crown’s sharp, gleaming tips, poised, beautiful, and elegant in every way.

Yet just as wicked as the thorns.

Thicket forced her shaking legs to step further into the room. How eerily familiar this all felt, walking into a room consumed with Lavender’s presence, thinking she in no way could compare. But she could and she was here to prove it.

“No,” Thicket said. Her voice rang out across the throne room. It was empty, save for the throne and the billowing curtains lining the open windows leading onto the balcony. “I’m here to request a rematch for our duel.”

“A rematch?” Lavender leaned forward, white teeth flashing. “Losing once wasn’t enough for you?”

Thicket ignored the jab. “If I win, you will free the animals you have under your thrall, surrender both yourself and Minloc to me, and relinquish any claim you have to the throne.”

Lavender tilted her head. Something about her voice reminded Thicket of a cat playing with a mouse, just before it tore it to shreds. She drummed her fingers, her nails long and painted a deep shade of purple, matching her dress. “And if you lose?”

Thicket swallowed. “Then do whatever you wish with me. You can rule Vindrya without me standing in your way. But this feud ends with us.”

Her sister leaned back, head lifting as she surveyed Thicket from her place on the throne, made higher from the dais protruding from the floor. She knew Lavender was examining her proposal from every angle, looking for its weak points. But she had rehearsed it with Alouette, the one person who could match Lavender’s innate cunning.

“Very well,” Lavender said. “I accept, with one addition. In this duel, we can use magic.”

Thicket’s hands tightened around the hilt of her blade. She had expected this. During their last duel, Lavender had resorted to trickery to best Thicket. This time, she wanted clear, decisive proof she was superior. If magic was allowed, then anything was fair game.

Including curses.

“Deal,” Thicket said, withdrawing her sword from her belt.

Lavender laughed. The sound carried across the room, light and delicate as a bell, but with a lingering note hinting that something darker lurked within. “So eager. Don’t you want to catch up first? After all, it has been a century. And with your missing memories, I am sure there is a lot you don’t remember.” Lavender kicked her leg up and used the momentum to propel herself from the throne. Her dress pooled around her. Thicket couldn’t imagine it was easy to move in, not with the way it hugged her hips. But she knew better than to underestimate her sister.

She tracked Lavender’s movements as she meandered across the width of the throne room, every nerve in her body on high alert.

“Let’s see,” Lavender mused, tapping a finger to her lips. “What is it that I want to know about my darling little Rose? Ah, I know. Where are your little friends? The ones that you almost killed due to your recklessness? Have they finally abandoned you just like they abandoned me?”

“No one abandoned you,” Thicket said. “This empty kingdom is your doing.”

“Your lack of memory is showing, dear sister.” Lavender sighed. “If only you knew the truth.”

She knew she shouldn’t ask, but the words blurted out before she could stop them. “What truth?”

A smile cut across Lavender’s face. “That before you were the savior princess, you were just like your prince. Shunned. Judged. Regarded with contempt. A wild child they called you. You should have heard the way they thanked the chalices you weren’t the chosen heir.”